ã€ŠRE: A Guide to Demonic Ascensionã€‹


 Step 1- Become a Demon

    Name: Nil

    Race: Faithless Deader

    Age: Nil

    Despite what my [Race] says, I know better than any of my fellow Deaders that I¡¯m Human. I was Human... right? No, no, I am Human. Despite much of my body receding further into this endless Wall, I remember who I was!

    Who was that though¡­ who was I?

    My body shifts and shimmers, my arms fading in and out, becoming buff and meaty, then thin, then small and weak. My upper torso free from the Wall shrinks, shrivels, and blows up with fat all within seconds. My mouth is the worst¡ªone moment I have no teeth and the next those are all I have in there.

    The Shimmers of Doubt. I should know better.

    With focus I bring the fluctuating changes to a halt, sticking with the single image I have of myself. Tall, slightly broad and slender. Within a moment of focusing, my shimmering, sick, white body sticks to the image, or at least an approximation.

    An effect of our memories, of the Wall¡¯s induced insanity. Should I bother to look up or down or in any direction, I¡¯ll find several Deaders experiencing the same effects.

    I remember having a Human body, a Human mind and doing Human things. From the many conversations I¡¯ve shared since I woke up stuck in this Wall, I know the others in here with me are not all Human. It can be difficult to tell at times with the Shimmer of Doubt flickering¡ªuncertainty fills us the longer we remain here, but we do share one thing in common. We were once mortal. This Wall is a place for mortals.

    I can¡¯t remember when or how I found myself stuck inside here, but it¡¯s a fitting addition to the hellscape. An ever-pulsating mesh of skin, tensing muscles and organs stitched together and held in some places by sinew and tendons. And in others it¡¯s held up by us, the Deaders it¡¯s absorbing.

    The Wall stands on no ground, none that I can see anyway. Ahead, sitting on the only piece of land in the Realm is a gray city. The Wall of Faithless¡ªor the Wall of Deaders, as we call it¡ªsurrounds the city and its island. There are rumors, whispers that within the city are favored Deaders living alongside the Lord, the type who don¡¯t wake up on the Wall.

    I have doubts about such claims. Hope is just another source of agony in this place, perhaps the worst pain among all of them.

    A terrible screeching rings out, a screech I and most Deaders are familiar with. Ahead, in the space between the floating island and the Wall, a tear in space cuts open as the screeching intensifies. With a burst, the tear expands into a measured rectangle, flames spilling through the edges, and in the center is a creature bearing a long head hanging off broad shoulders and carried by expansive, batlike, scaly wings.

    The screeching continues, this time with a heavy flapping to it. Through the open gate I can make out a Beast, and before the beating wings even leave the gate the Deaders in the Wall scream and struggle fruitlessly against the Wall¡¯s grip.

    But only the Lord of this Realm, the Demons, and the Devils can free us.

    The Deaders with me fear everything. The Lord who only ever punishes us, the Demons and the Devils who pluck us out for lunch, consuming our essence or taking us through the gateways they flood through. We fear even our minds, the suffering images, the wracking pain and emotional torture the Wall puts us through as it slowly absorbs us into nonexistence.

    Beating its large scaly wings, the Beast takes a foothold on the wall, clutching and crushing the Deaders in the way of its stomped feet. It picks up a few more in its beak and takes off, flapping its way back through the gateway.

    Screeching and cawing as it retreats through the closing gateway, we Deaders let out a relieved sigh. At least some of us do. There is endless screaming on the Wall, Deaders crying out their last grievances, curses, and pleas to the world as the Wall consumes them. Deaders reliving what must be the worst moments of their mortal lives, aching for a savior.

    But there are also Deaders who have sunk more than halfway into the Wall, Deaders like myself. We have the tolerance to withstand the pains of the Wall and our own mental torture, but as for the other things, the Lord of the Realm, and the Demons and Devils, those we fear.

    ¡°That was close, it won¡¯t be long now.¡± Croaking, the Deader by my right is nothing more than a face in the Wall, its face white, cheeks sunken, lips dry with a head, like the rest of us, devoid of hair.

    I know what it speaks of¡ªit speaks of me and my chances of leaving the Wall. To some a chance at another life may be a reprieve, an opportunity to do things better, to apply the lessons the Wall inflicts on us with our painful memories. But to us farther gone, neck-deep in the Wall, all we wish is for the ease of nonexistence.

    To never breathe, never fear, never cry, never scream, and to never live again.

    I am of this opinion as well, but there are other things I wouldn¡¯t mind experiencing.

    It¡¯s rare to use my voice; screaming has long proved futile and conversation is often too painful to have, so when I speak my throat pops and cracks, releasing the faint whisper I acknowledge as my voice.

    ¡°There are still things I wish for.¡±

    ¡°Answers,¡± the Deader completes.

    Ah, we have spoken of this before... how long ago was it?

    ¡°Yes. Answers and vengeance.¡±

    Closer than the gate the Devil Beast left through, the space above our bodies on the Wall burns, the air flaming until it crackles and pops open. A rift. The shapeless hole in space billows sand, brimstone, and spitting acid.

    Spilling out of the rift are cackling creatures, bulbous with fat yet held up by the thin, rapidly flapping wings on their oversized bodies. These are Demons, some of many I¡¯ve seen.

    ¡°This may be your moment,¡± the Deader speaks, eyes resting once more as its head sinks deeper into the Wall.

    Yes, it just might be.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The rift spills hordes of these Demons; they bump into each other, screaming and slapping one another. Some taken by anger even forget their task and attack their comrades, but ultimately the task is carried out.

    Their beating wings vibrate the air around them, giving a breath of air in the stale, stagnate Realm but also producing an irritating sound as three to four of them latch onto the limbs and bodies of Deaders poking out of the Wall. Together they pull the Deaders out, and as they exit through the rift into the Demon Realm, Reais, a bright red light engulfs the Deaders¡¯ chests.

    As I wonder for the umpteenth time what that light could be, their beating wings and the wind accompanying them approach me. There are three ugly ones hovering over me, grunting and spitting at each other. I¡¯ve seen them do this before, argue over whether or not to carry a Deader.

    The further into the Wall the Deader is, the more effort it takes to pull it out. A Deader like the one beside me has no hope of being taken out, unless the Lord of the Realm does the action himself. But that¡¯s a pipe dream.

    One sinks its fat, clawed feet into my shoulders, but I don¡¯t feel a thing. It grunts and snorts at the others, and together they lift me out of the Wall. Rescuing the rest of my body from the Wall feels as effortless as pulling up an empty pail from a well.

    Is this all it takes?

    Staring down, I find the rest of my torso, my legs and feet, but before I can examine myself any further the Deader I sank beside for years, decades, catches my eye. A smile, full of peace, remains on its lips even as it vanishes into the Wall.

    Good for you.

    My attention turns back to my body. It¡¯s white, a fading shade of it, like a sickness. Staring down as I¡¯m carried through the wind, I¡¯m shocked to find no answers to a question that¡¯s bothered me since I lost my lower half to the Wall.

    My crotch is flat, smooth with not a single bump of genitalia to be found. Then I remember, this is how I was when I woke up. I¡¯d forgotten through the countless replays of my memories, through the screams of fear when I saw the Devils, Demons, and the great hand of the Lord tear through reality to pluck those on the Wall.

    I¡¯d forgotten myself over and over, leaving only my cruelest thoughts, emotions, and moments from my past. Not for the first time, I ask myself, ¡°Who am I?¡±

    Thoughts on my state of being wipe away as we pass through the rift and the blinding flash of red appears again. My chest burns and I feel a growth push out of it; it hurts, but I revel in true, physical sensation. It¡¯s gruesome but pleasant all at the same. It¡¯s proof that I¡¯m alive... in some way or form at least.

    My eyes peer open and the pain is right¡ªI am alive.

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 1minute

    Crystal Essence: [Pink]- Lvl.10¡ª 40esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 12

    Agility: 12

    Wisdom: 7

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 0]

    Traits: Nil

    [Available Ascension Perk¡ª 0]

    Ascension Perks: Nil

    Spells: Nil

    Patron: Nil

    A lot has changed, and not just my status. Taking in the information, I see that I am no longer a Deader, but a Demon.

    Does this mean I¡¯m the same as these creatures?

    Likely not¡ªthey still cackle at my awestruck self, but I believe any Deader brought from the Wall would be the same as I am, mouth hung ajar, gaping at the scene before me.

    The land is split in three, a section on the right nothing but dark purple oceans with sparse islands in between the boiling, bubbling acid that spits out in giant spires, spraying all over the bits of land that float atop the ocean.

    The section right below my dangling feet is steaming. My feet burn, and no matter the angle I put them they scald. It¡¯s a wide breadth of land, rumbling hills full of gaping pits spitting fire and lava. Smoke billows in the air I¡¯m flown through, choking and burning my lungs. I begin hacking out blots of blood.

    Blood... I don¡¯t... its blood.

    I haven¡¯t had or seen blood in the physical for... I¡¯m not sure how long. Staring at myself once more, I find my body has color once more. My skin is an unblemished light-brown color and the black, wavering line in my sight isn¡¯t a line at all, but my hair.

    It¡¯s grown back!

    It falls just short of my back, tickling my neck and ears. It¡¯s a curly dark mane I remember from the life the Wall played over and over for me. Little features about myself¡ªmy hair, the color of my eyes, my height, my weight and even my gender¡ªthese things took a back seat in place of the horrors that still wrack me.

    Thinking about it now I seethe, clenching my fists, curling my toes away from the pain. I recite the promise I¡¯ve made to myself countless times during my time in the Wall. A promise to exact vengeance on the Gods who placed me there for little more than my ignorance of their existence.

    The Demons carrying me begin to descend, and I have a better view of the third and last section of this Realm. A sprawling desert of waving sandstorms with little else to be seen behind them, the unknown is frightening.

    Reais is as the Deaders spoke of it, an endless hellscape with no relief. I can¡¯t imagine living here but I know I must¡ªI must survive and I must thrive even. Anything less would mean they go free, go unjudged for their crimes against me.

    The closer we descend, the larger the figures on the ground below become, lines and lines of creatures fat, slim, robust, and little. The Demons cackle as they let go of me and I crash behind the last figure in one of the three lines leading to the center of the Realm, where all the sections meet.

    Crashing onto the scalding ground, I scream, feeling something pop in my shoulder as it burns. Here the ground is a mismatch of acid, fiery pits, and sand, each of them inflicting some kind of burn on my previously unblemished skin.

    I find I¡¯m not alone in my screams¡ªthere are many who look like me and many others shaped like monsters out of a fantasy. But I know better than to think this a fantasy: the Wall has taught me better.

    This is my reality.

    The line moves and shifts periodically. There¡¯s no talking and the skies are flooded with flying Demons wielding long whips. I don¡¯t need to test my luck to know that if I utter anything more than a pained scream, I will be whipped.

    At least there¡¯s some good coming from my torturous memories.

    Looking over the tall, dragon-like Beast in front of me, I realize the end of the line is nowhere in sight. Not knowing how long I¡¯ll be here, I turn my attention to myself¡ªthere could be other changes.

    And there are. Stark naked with feet still burning, I look down only to be disappointed. My gender still hasn¡¯t been revealed. I¡¯d look to the Human-shaped people ahead of me, but I fear the whip of the fluttering Demons overhead. But there is a change.

    Just below my neck, poking out of my chest, is a Crystal. It beats with a faint pink light, humming as it does.

    [Soul Crystal]

    While I wonder what it is, I peruse my status once more.

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 1hour

    Crystal Essence: [Pink]- Lvl.10¡ª 40esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 12

    Agility: 12

    Wisdom: 7

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 0]

    Traits: Nil

    [Available Ascension Perk¡ª 0]

    Ascension Perks: Nil

    Spells: Nil

    Patron: Nil

    [Crystal Essence] catches my eye: it tells the color of the [Soul Crystal] embedded in my chest and its level apparently. What that means I have yet to learn.

    [Abilities], [Traits], [Spells], and [Patron] all escape me as well. I understand their meanings, of course, but not as they pertain to me. Worst of all is [Ascension Perks]¡ªwhat does that even mean?

    More questions and still no answers. I guess we wait.

    [Trait: [Tough Skin] Attained!]

    What¡¯s that?

 Step 1- Become a Demon (P2)

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 4years

    Crystal Essence: [Pink]- Lvl.10¡ª 40esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 12

    Agility: 12

    Wisdom: 7

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 0]

    Traits: [Tough Skin]- Lvl.2

    Ascension Perks: Nil

    Spells: Nil

    Patron: Nil

    I¡¯ve spent four years in the line leading to the three giant Demons in front of me. The three summon identical feelings of disgust every time I look up at them. They each sit on a unique throne¡ªone of dark igneous rock; another swimming in viscous, green acid; and the last on a throne of burnt sand, silicon with insect-like creatures between straits of the massive chair that are mostly still alive.

    The three Demons I¡¯ve waited in line for years to reach tower over twenty feet tall and occupy a space fitting of their fat. Each Demon retains the aspect of the part of the Realm they¡¯re from. The one seated on igneous rock is a burning Beast, yawning fire from its tusked mouth, belching out molten slobber with each of us it chooses to consume.

    The one from the desert is more or less a giant insect, long and stratified: its body sprouts out more legs than I¡¯ve bothered counting. It wraps around the throne of silicon more than it sits on it and has no face, only long clattering and chittering mandibles.

    The last is a creature I have trouble comprehending. At first I thought the rumbling green blubber was acid, but I couldn¡¯t have been more wrong. Behind the green and sometimes within it, a Demon without shape vomits and hisses at its own cursed form. Dark, like a bruised, swollen, infected eye split open and spilling with pus and mucus. At the sides of the gash of bile are two beady eyes, aching in despair yet swallowing the Demons that line up before it nonetheless.

    I haven¡¯t spent all the years staring at these gigantic Demons though. In fact, I¡¯ve spent more time staring at my burning, aching feet and my stat sheet than I have wondering what will happen when I stand before them. My interest is set on the little progress I¡¯ve made; although unintentional, gaining the trait [Tough Skin 2] has helped ease the torment of this place.

    Along the line and through the years I¡¯ve seen all sorts of creatures tossed in line behind me. Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Gnomes, Dragonborns, and so many other variants of the many races. Although, I suppose they¡¯re all Demons now, much like how I used to be Human and now have a Crystal sticking out of my chest and skin toughened against the scorching pains.

    Still, I¡¯ve discovered more about this Hellscape and my situation in the last four years than the eternity I spent in the Wall.

    For one, my immortality doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t experience the passing of time¡ªmy hair has begun to flow over my shoulders now, getting in my face and tickling my nose, yet at the same time the passing of time doesn¡¯t mangle my body as I suspected it would. Or as it should. After all, it¡¯s been four years since I got my body back, my organ¡ªsave my genitals, which I can¡¯t remember¡ªand I¡¯ve been starving all this time.

    The wails that call out from the line are those thirsting for drops of water in the unbearable heat and burning, for a piece of our warden¡¯s fat meals, gruesome as said meals look. But I know better than to beg and draw attention to myself. Doing so gets you pulled out of line and forced to drink from the river of lava flowing beside us. The Demons sinister way of quenching thirst.

    It¡¯s an instant death for any normal person or creature, but watching and measuring the punishments, I¡¯ve discovered that those who survive have something in common.

    A darker-colored Crystal.

    The low hue of pink embedded in my chest is not what everyone else carries. Some have deeper shades, others are nearly white. It leads me to believe that the deeper the color, the higher chance you won¡¯t lose your immortal life.

    I can live forever in hunger, thirst, and mild burning pain, but take it too far¡­

    The discovery gives me even more reason to mind my business, keep my lips sealed no matter how much I delude myself into thinking the pleading look on my face will touch the hearts of the stout, insect Demons flying overhead with their whips in hand.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Keeping to this resolve has kept me safe. The only whippings I¡¯ve received from the dexterous insect Demons are the ones they give on a whim. There have been quite a few of those¡ªout of nowhere they¡¯ll start whipping, and sometimes their comrades will join. Other times it¡¯s humorous, because when another Demon joined the first would stop and confront the intruding Demon. They¡¯d start arguing and bickering, and one of them might even kill and consume the other right in front of us.

    Their inability to work together has saved me countless times.

    With their enraged whims being the only hiccup during my years waiting in line, I¡¯ve managed to stay alive long enough to be third in line. By the time I was twentieth I¡¯d discovered what we were in line for, what happens when we step in front of the three giant Demons.

    A transformation.

    As I am, I still have my Human form, but there hasn¡¯t been a glimpse of a Human-looking Demon in the four years I¡¯ve spent here. I¡¯ve heard what happens at the front of the line as well, a decision made by the house-sized Demons on what they transform you into for their Demon Lord.

    Each of the Demons seated on the thrones have the power to transform us into whatever they choose, but sometimes they swallow the person instead.

    The line moves forward, and I¡¯m next up after the Dragonborn before me staggers ahead, heaving as he falls, his Crystal a shade darker than mine. They look down at him and the unspeakable acid Demon speaks, its voice resonating in my mind.

    ¡°What will this one be? Not much potential... another meal perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Enough with your greed, do you not fear the wrath of your Lord?¡± the tusked Beast rumbles out loud, the only one of the three who has a mouth to speak with. Its skin glistens with bright, burning lava that drips off its chest and down a fat stomach.

    The acid Demon snaps back, ¡°Silence, you. Do not speak to me of fear, I bide my time.¡±

    Chittering fills my head, roughly translating to a snide comment on how they bide their time on their Lord¡¯s orders.

    ¡°Choose what to turn it into, the next one is mine,¡± the tusked Beast says, its head lowering to glower at me. Its face is as fat as the rest of its body, long and spiraling with blubber and rows of fat from the chin.

    I look away from it and stare at the shriveled Dragonborn ahead. The acid Demon shifts on its throne of goop and spits mucus at the Dragonborn. Screaming ensues.

    The Dragonborn roars and howls, his voice lost after seconds, leaving him contorting, silently screaming at the transformation. His scales melt away, the golden-brown of his skin whitens, his tail falls off, and his mass increases until he stands mouth ajar in a voiceless scream.

    When the transformation is complete, he stands thin as ever but longer, taller with a poor shade of white skin, filled with holes still steaming from the burns. A red glow emanates from his chest. The transformation complete, his pink turns a deep red, crimson.

    ¡°Begone,¡± the acid Demon orders, and the previous Dragonborn, now a [Swak] type Demon according to the icon above his head, stalks away, moving through the burning acid and into another part of the Realm.

    I guess I¡¯m up next... and fire is where I¡¯m headed.

    Without being called, I step forward, and the fat, tusked lava Demon rumbles with a spilling grin. Standing before them now, with no one ahead of me, I¡¯m afraid once more.

    The last thing I want to do is turn into one of those¡­ I shake my head. No, second to last¡ªI can¡¯t get eaten either.

    ¡°Barely any potential here. I know exactly what to do with you.¡± Licking its lips, it beckons me forth.

    Between the three giant Demons, the flying ones with whips, and the terrible terrain, there isn¡¯t much else I can do but obey. Each step burns more than [Tough Skin] can take, and I wince, aching with hunger and frail with weakness, but I don¡¯t fall over.

    Chittering follows my display, and I surmise that the screeching nonsense in my mind is complimenting my strength. Some pride and hope wells up within me at this.

    ¡°Yes, this one would serve better not as a meal¡ªthere is more potential here than you¡¯re willing to see through your hunger,¡± the acid Demon concurs.

    Growling, snapping its teeth at it, the tusked Demon roars, ¡°Silence, you! You¡¯ve eaten your fill the past years. Only the useless have come to you, and now you tell me to turn this one into something other than sustenance?¡±

    The heavy, infected-looking Demon shifts in its goop at this, turning away from its tusked companion.

    Fuck! I¡¯m dinner. I can¡¯t be dinner!

    But it¡¯s too late, the tusked Demon flicks a finger and my feet leave the ground, hovering inches above the ground and climbing higher as it draws me closer with a gesture from its clawed finger.

    As its maw falls open, I struggle against the unseen force with what¡¯s left of my strength, but it¡¯s no use. Its jaw collapses, and within it I see a broiling death awaiting me. I scream, ¡°No! Lords! Spare me and I will be your willing servant! Spare me!¡±

    I get no help from the others; in fact, they shirk away from my cries. As I hover above the open maw of the tusked Demon, its collapsed lips spread with delight and the force holding me up ceases. I fall, but I¡¯m not defeated yet.

    Its mouth is massive¡ªa crack in the ground from an earthquake would be smaller¡ªbut to my luck it isn¡¯t, and I grab hold of one of its shorter tusks. Mouth hanging open, it makes a questioning sound even as the heat from its lava-filled stomach burns my feet. Hanging by the embers of my strength, the stench of its mouth suffocates me, a mixture of ammonia and sulfur. Its saliva is more lava, and its tongue is as black as the throne it sits on. The heat from it all begins boiling my skin.

    Its arm begins to loom over its mouth, intent on forcing me in. With haste and skill, I yank myself up by the tusk and tumble onto its bare face.

    Chittering fills my ears and mind as the insect Demon starts ranting about how right it was.

    The tusked Demon roars, ¡°How dare you!¡± It scrambles to grab me off its face, but it¡¯s large and hot and I¡¯m small and desperate, running up the top of its head. It continues to scream, ¡°Off of me, you Deader!¡±

    Panting at the exertion, ducking under and jumping over the tusked Demon¡¯s swipes, I know it¡¯s only a matter of time before it finds a better way to grab me. And luckily, something fancy on its blackened head catches my eye¡ªno, rather it calls to me. This close I almost can¡¯t keep my eyes off it.

    Buried under the scratch of the blackened mound that makes up the top of its head is a glowing maroon-colored Crystal. Even with all my haste and dodging, I can feel its power and know this is the bit that fuels the tusked Demon and its companions.

    This is what gives us power.

    Falling flat on my stomach, mouth salivating, I do the unthinkable and sink my teeth into it¡­ and I instantly regret it. The Crystal is harder than anything I¡¯ve bitten into; my mouth bleeds from the attempt and I¡¯ve got a few broken teeth. But I¡¯m intent on biting something close, something powerful, and its entire head exudes power.

    It roars, hastening my search, but what I¡¯m looking for isn¡¯t too far off from the Crystal. Near the edge of it is a large, round boil.

    Now this is unthinkable.

 Step 1- Become a Demon (P3)

    It¡¯s bitter. I¡¯d forgotten what the sensation of taste is like with my time spent here. My tongue is dry and cut in lines from dehydration, starvation. But I¡¯ve gotten my first bite, and with it comes a spurting fountain of scalding blood that does more to relieve my throat than burn it.

    My teeth sink even further as I gulp, the burning liquid flowing down into me, hot, but it¡¯s what I need. My body afloat, my legs flailing above my head as the continuous blast of energies swirl around me.

    A reverberating roar threatens to throw me off but I tighten my grip, eyes shut and unbothered by the struggles and echoing screams. My only concern is focused on absorbing the bittersweet nectar of... of¡­

    Snapping to my senses, I find myself at the center of a whirling cyclone of fire, brimstone, and lava. My hands squeeze into the tusked Demon¡¯s thick flesh all while it roars, exclaiming pain caused by my little feast. Swallowing the last sludge of blood, I worry about losing my grip and getting tossed into the cyclone but discover that its fat arms can¡¯t reach me.

    Blasts of chaotic red mist spills from where I¡¯ve bitten into the Demon and slams against its attempts to grab me, its own power working against it.

    Before I can stop to wonder how any of this is possible, its head begins to heat up until it burns my lips off. I have no choice but to let go of its skull. The burning winds pick me up, my hair whipping in the breeze as I¡¯m tossed through the torrent of fiery elements and launched out in another direction.

    I¡¯m whipped into the ground several paces away from the chaos of fire and Demons. The hard igneous rock caves in under the weight of my fall and I groan, muffling a scream of pain¡ªmy lips burnt, fingers strained by the vice grip I held on the Demon¡¯s head, and my back which was used more or less to break rock.

    Gritting through the pain, I find that the lines of organized ¡°pre-Demons¡± have devolved into chaos. Everyone is taking their chance to escape a fate similar to those before them. Dragonborns skitter off as dwarves try their best not to get trampled or caught by the pig-winged Demons whipping and killing indiscriminately.

    But few are successful. The giant Demons summon their minions and ilk to suppress the chaos. Grotesquely shaped insects and shapeless, green, acid blob Demons launch out into the mess. The green blobs swallow us pre-Demons or Deaders, and bipedal insects pick apart more of us, tearing limbs and smacking down runners with parts from their last kill.

    Moreover, it¡¯s obvious the giant Demons also have magic at their disposal. Blasts of acid reach hundreds of Deaders at once, melting them to nothingness as hordes of flying, frothing mice drop balls of acid into the chaos. The Deaders and Demons alike scream through their rage and struggles, but despite the overwhelming number of Deaders, it¡¯s clear who¡¯s coming out on top of this sudden skirmish.

    Scrabbling to my feet I smell burnt flesh¡ªnot unusual, considering what¡¯s unfolding before my eyes, but the steam from this is right in front of me. It takes me a second to realize the flesh is mine, my burnt-off lips growing back like nothing ever happened to them, steaming as they re-form.

    ¡°That¡¯s impo¡ªNo... anything is possible now.¡±

    Staring back at the scene of chaos, I notice the tusked Demon is still enveloped in a torrent of flames, its comrades beside it not bothering to pay it any attention. Instead they grab at Deaders, the blob of acid eating up the most with its tendrils while the insect sends out hordes, capturing and returning Deaders to the waiting mandibles of the long centipede-like Demon.

    The acid rain is a stone¡¯s throw away from where I¡¯ve landed, and so is the chaos. Some Deaders have made it past where I stand even now, running deep into the deserts behind me. It would be foolish not to follow their lead.

    Turning tail, I press my feet against the ground and take off faster than I intended or expected. Caught off guard, I come to a halt and tumble into some other Deader.

    ¡°Muk tul ya!¡± they scream and shove me off. They scramble to stand but not before their Crystal, embedded in their chest the same as mine, catches my eye. They¡¯re a reptilian creature, a long snout with rows of teeth protruding from the sides.

    I can beat it.

    The thought isn¡¯t mine, and I know it at an instant. Intrusive thoughts and memories were commonplace on the Wall, but this isn¡¯t even a thought brought on from a past life. The growling, demanding sensation that rushes through with the thought... this is hunger.

    Though my stomach sits warm with the blood and power of the tusked Demon, I¡¯m still thirsty. My chest burns as I stare dumbfounded at the Lizardfolk¡¯s glowing Pink Crystal. A sense beyond me tells me it¡¯s nowhere as filling as what I tasted from the tusked, but I should have a taste anyway.

    ¡°Grrr.¡± Growling down at me, sneering with its fangs peeking clear behind curled lips, the Lizardfolk seems to have gotten the same idea.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    In a heartbeat, it lunges at me and we spill into a roll, inhibitions lost, civility abandoned. All that remains is a thirst, a hunger for flesh and the power of the Crystal beating at our chests.

    My Crystal beams a crimson light, filling me up with power, strength beyond what I¡¯m used to. Empowered, I set my grip on the Lizardfolk¡¯s neck and slam it into the hard, burnt igneous rock hard enough that cracks spread through it. It coughs, gasps, and rasps to breathe again, clawing at the arm pressing it down. Ignoring the gashes its claws leave, I straddle it, rendering it immobile under my weight.

    Directed by instinct, I raise my free hand and it flushes with the cyrstal¡¯s power. With it I slash across the Lizardfolk¡¯s face, spilling blood and tearing out chunks of flesh, shredding through bone and tearing it apart to the point that its snout is no more than an overgrown nose.

    Sputtering, drowning in its blood, the mangled Lizardfolk still manages to struggle. My eyes narrow at it, annoyed at its kicking and clawing. My hand fills with strength again and I squeeze, pressing down on it until its eyes bulge, its tongue flaps out, and blood spurts in my face.

    With an audible burst, my grip destroys the Lizardfolk¡¯s head, the remnants of its throat in my hands. Filled with thirst, I lick it off my fingers, then grab the bloated, severed head and squeeze it above my open mouth. Unlike the tusked Demon, its blood is smooth and thin, almost too thin. It slides down my throat and I lose myself in its taste, awakening only when there are only a few drops left.

    Disappointment overwhelms me as I toss the drained head away, but I remember I¡¯ve got a whole body left. A heat thrums beneath me, and, licking my lips, I pick at the glowing Pink Crystal but stop before I go any further.

    ¡°W-what are these¡­¡±

    Staring at my hands, I have trouble recognizing them. My fingernails are no more¡ªin their place are strong, thin, pointed claws. I blink and remember slashing away at the Lizardfolk¡¯s face with these claws; even now bits of flesh hang on them.

    Despite the horror, I sense a growing compulsion to lick it off, thoughts in my head screaming at how I¡¯ve wasted so much... blood. Licking my lips, I find something else, another bit of alarm. Bringing a clawed finger to my mouth, I can tell from the touch that whatever¡¯s protruding through my lip and out from my gums is no regular tooth.

    Taking a deep breath to regain my composure and control over my thoughts, I stare at the claws protruding out of my fingers and feel at the fangs hanging out of my mouth.

    The thrumming stream of power flowing to my hands and jaw from the Crystal in my chest tells me that it¡¯s the source of the change.

    ¡°Ah!¡± I startle as the Lizardfolk¡¯s body jerks and twitches underneath me even without the direction of its head.

    ¡°It¡¯s not dead yet... not completely.¡±

    It¡¯s hard to focus with the raging roars behind me, the stampede of Demons and Deaders, the whipping, and the pained screams caused by acid, fire, and disembowelment. But I manage and let the flow of power be all I sense.

    Earlier it was all by instinct, an instinct I hadn¡¯t realized I had. But now I¡¯m refining it. It¡¯s a stream of power, pumping throughout my body. My eyes close and I poke at it, tell it to curl back, and it does. It recedes away from my extremities and pools at the center; my limbs fall limp at my side, and my chest hums and burns.

    I examine my hands again. The claws are gone. But my chest is glowing a bright crimson, beating with my heart. With a breath of relief, the power bottled up in the Crystal floods back out, energizing me once more.

    ¡°I can control this thing.¡±

    Focusing on the power within the Crystal, I draw it out, commanding it to flow down into my arm. Watching as it passes, I notice my arm bulk up, veins bulging and muscle expanding with each pump. Sending it down into my hands, to my fingernails, I wait, filled with anticipation to see those claws rise again.

    ¡­

    Nothing. Why?

    I don¡¯t understand why, but I feel an ache in my chest. Regardless, I can¡¯t sustain the flow of power from it. The crimson light dims, turning a shade lighter, and I panic.

    ¡°I should have taken the Crystal before the blood!¡±

    Without pausing to think through it, I plunge my arm through the still-heaving chest of the Lizardfolk underneath me and snatch its Pink Crystal out. It¡¯s a lighter shade than it was earlier¡ªI suspect the Crystal¡¯s power is what¡¯s keeping the Lizardfolk¡¯s body alive.

    Not anymore though.

    Once the Crystal is removed from its chest, the Lizardfolk¡¯s trembling and head-breathing stops. No more life remains in it.

    As I get off the Lizardfolk, its Crystal glowing a soft pink in my hand, a question blurs my view.

    [Pink Soul Crystal]- Lvl.1(0.9esq)

    [Absorb] [Destroy]

    I¡¯m quick to notice the change in my stat. My Pink has transformed to a Crimson, which is likely more to do from what I absorbed from the tusked Demon, and so has the esq beside it. The Crystal I¡¯m currently holding has a rather meagre 0.9esq. It¡¯s nothing compared to the boost the tusked gave me, but there¡¯s a pattern forming now, and I figure this esq is as important as the Crystal¡¯s color.

    With little time to consider my options, I decide to absorb the power remaining within it, and it fades from solid to gas in my hand. The Pink gas rushes toward my chest, and I can¡¯t help but cry out with delight as it rushes into my Crystal.

    ¡°Oh wow¡­ I¡¯ll need more.¡±

    But the chaos is getting closer. Deaders run past me, some stopping to engage others, devouring the corpses left behind in a fit of ravaging hunger and thirst. I know I can¡¯t stay here.

    There¡¯s only one way to go now. Forward.

    Ahead are the desert dunes, a sandstorm spinning in the distance. This is the domain of the insect Demon, the one sending out minions to disembowel my fellow Deaders.

    No... not Deaders. This is... this is Reais.

    Reais, the home to all that¡¯s demonic, and until I can get back to where I came from, before the Wall, before any of this madness, this will be my home.

    I¡¯m a Demon.

    Resolved, I run into the harsh desert, careful to keep my distance from the other escapee Demons, who are likely hungry and thirsty like I am. They¡¯ll probably attack whoever¡¯s next to them like the Lizardfolk did. I¡¯m not so confident about my chances in an all-out brawl, especially not against the big ones.

    The main section of desert is still some ways away, but even from this distance, I¡¯m hit by painful waves of hot sand, scratching and peeling at my exposed skin.

    Grunting to myself, I ponder, Does Reais have any clothes, or will I be reduced to wearing the skin of my foes?

 Step 2- Adapt

    The Desert Divide is painful.

    The fierce winds scatter granules of sand at lightning speed. The wind and sand must be considered torture to everything here. My body drips blood and my eyes are blinded several times over. I¡¯ve learned to keep them shut and walk blindly in the sandstorm¡¯s permanence.

    But it can¡¯t be permanent¡ªI know this to be a fact, because I saw the landscape from above when I first entered Reais through the rift. The options I have now are to wait until the storm passes over me or to escape it.

    Either way, it¡¯s a wonder I¡¯m still alive. My lungs, nose, mouth, lips¡ªevery bit of my exposed body is shredded and clogged with the relentless sands. Each granule burns with a heat I¡¯d expect from the Fire Divide or the Acid Divide. And yet I manage to continue living.

    This is torture.

    Much like the Wall of Deaders subjecting everyone to horrible pain, gruesome memories of a foggy past, and the constant blanket of despair, I believe each of the Divides are intentional, made to torture everyone who ventures in without the slightest hope of natural death.

    Even now, with these thoughts, I¡¯m living in agony, and I can¡¯t scream, I can¡¯t run or bang my fists into something, because that¡¯ll only make things worse. Open my mouth and I¡¯ll get cupfuls of sand, run and I¡¯ll be pushing my nude body into the sharp, burning granules.

    This must be torture.

    A second hell, a continuation of the suffering the nameless Deities have subjected me to because of my ignorance. Seething, I remind myself of the silver lining to all this agony.

    I¡¯m alive again.

    True, alive but in endless pain, but when haven¡¯t I been in pain? This is nothing new¡ªall I¡¯ve known is pain and the knowledge that things can be different, that a pain-free existence can be a reality. It¡¯s just another tool the Deities use to punish me.

    But I¡¯m alive, walking, crawling, and stronger than I ever was in my memories as a Human. Whatever those Deities¡¯ names are, I will have my vengeance. I will strike against them for this injustice.

    Even now, gnashing my teeth in agony and rage, I mutter under my breath, ¡°How can I be punished for not knowing you exist? How can I be punished for rules I didn¡¯t know I was breaking!¡±

    The anger rising within me has bubbled since I woke on the Wall and learned it is where the unfaithful reside. Whether due to ignorance, like my case, or choice, we¡¯re cast into the Wall for being unfaithful to our world¡¯s Deities.

    Millions, billions of Deaders like myself¡­ punished for not knowing.

    If not for myself then for them¡­ I will exact my vengeance.

    A chorus of laughter fills my head and I shudder, looking from side to side. I see no one else by me; the sandstorm is difficult to see through, and even with enhancements from my new demonic form I can only manage so much.

    There¡¯s giggling now. A rush of footsteps behind me, then in front of me. I groan. ¡°Show yourself!¡± Whoever it is doesn¡¯t dare reveal themselves, but I hear them speak as clear as the sand in my mouth now.

    Where are you going?

    I keep my guard up, but the desert¡¯s punishments persist along with the lost voices. I¡¯ll need to find better shade and figure out my next move.

    Blinded by the storm, I run into a rock large and wide enough to cover my body from one direction of the merciless sandstorm. It gives my back some reprieve from the biting, scathing slashes of sand digging up my flesh. My front is exposed, but I¡¯ve learned, more out of necessity than ingenuity, that Essence¡ªthe power of the Crystal in my chest¡ªhas more uses than transforming my fingers into claws.

    Channeling the Essence in bulk through my front side without letting it waste away requires conscious effort, but it¡¯s worth it. [Tough Skin] alone isn¡¯t up to the task of shielding me from the harrowing sands and heat, but together with the Essence, I can afford this brief respite.

    Brief, because even as I sit by the rock, in the least amount of agony I¡¯ve been through, the sands dig at my exposed parts, even the ones shielded with Essence. And with each second that passes, I feel part of my Essence stolen away with my torn-up flesh, Essence that won¡¯t return without long rest. I can feel the power in the air, all around me and even in the sands hurtling at me. It¡¯s everywhere in Reais, and my [Soul Crystal]¡ªan object I¡¯ve taken care to study¡ªlaps up the ambient Essence, but does so slowly.

    As the only other source of Essence is other Demons, I figure I¡¯ll have to fight for my survival so the environment doesn¡¯t kill me before I can figure anything out. The finite power compels me to action, though not yet; the reprieve is sweet, but it¡¯s not all I¡¯ve stopped for.

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 4years

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.2¡ª 65esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 10]

    Strength: 12

    Agility: 12

    Wisdom: 7

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 10]

    Traits: [Tough Skin]- Lvl.2

    [Available Ascension Perk¡ª 1]

    Ascension Perks: Nil

    Spells: Nil

    Patron: Nil

    A lot has changed since I bit into the tusked Demon and killed the Lizardfolk. I can make sense of some of what the sheet says, what¡¯s new. Just the word ¡°Faithless¡± tells me the ability has something to do with my origins as a Faithless Deader. Absorption would refer to the consumption of the Lizardfolk¡¯s Essence and the sweet slivers I got from the tusked Demon.

    Mimicry¡­ well, I suppose that explains the claws I used to tear into the Lizardfolk, something I¡¯m still trying to replicate. My memory of the sensation is foggy, not complete in some parts, but I do remember wishing to be as fierce as possible.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    And the fiercest thing at that moment was the tusked Demon I was running away from.

    Clenching my injured hands, I resolve to try again, at least once I¡¯m not using Essence to shield myself.

    [Spells]. I know enough not to doubt the existence and function of magic. I¡¯m no fool¡ªthere¡¯s little else that could have created such torment, such creatures, such plains of agony. The Lizardfolk, the Elves, the Dwarves: I¡¯ve spent four long years waiting in a line to meet three house-sized Demons with these mythical beings, just to name a few.

    Magic is a given, and now I can wield it¡­ or at least, it¡¯s implied that I can. I still have nothing under [Spells]. I suppose I¡¯ll have to acquire them somehow. I haven¡¯t gained any new [Traits] though, and the single one I have hasn¡¯t budged since two years ago.

    There is some good news though. Since moving up into Crimson and going up another level on that tier, I¡¯ve gotten ten Essence points and ten Trait points. It¡¯s not difficult to imagine what these points are for or even how to use them.

    I direct my thought and add two points to all three stats.

    [Available Essence Points- 4]

    Strength: 14

    Agility: 14

    Wisdom: 13

    I dump the last bit into wisdom just for some semblance of uniformity. Without any points to shift around, I can¡¯t change the stat sheet any further¡ªmy first choice is my last choice.

    I only have one Trait, [Tough Skin], but I¡¯ve leveled it up twice so I¡¯ve got ten points to spare. Without care, I dump it all into my single trait and get an alert.

    [Tough Skin]- Lvl.5 Maxed!

    Evolve Trait? Costs 2 Trait points.

    I¡¯ve got seven points left now and already the effects of the sandstorm are greatly mitigated, but not gone. Sure¡­ why not? I indulge myself, intrigued to find out what exactly a trait evolution means.

    [Tough Skin]- Lvl.5 Evolved!

    Trait [Calloused Exterior]- Lvl.1 Attained!

    There¡¯s a significant difference with the evolved trait: my suffering is reduced by a margin, and though I¡¯ve spent five points getting here I think it¡¯s worth it. I¡¯m left with five Trait points, and I figure I¡¯ll dump those into whatever trait I pick up next.

    The last part is rather confusing: [Ascension Perks]. The stat sheet still offers no tutorial on how any of this works, but when I went from Pink to Crimson I got one perk.

    [Crimson Tier Ascension Perks]

    [Dexterous Fiend] ¨C Multiplies strength by *4. Increase Passive Healing by 15%. Base esq +40

    [Mana Fiend] ¨C Multiplies wisdom by *4. Increase Mana Gathering by 15%. Spell cost -10%. Base esq +40

    [Reais Fiend] ¨C Multiplies agility by *4. Increases Ambient Essence Absorption by 15%. Essence cost -10%. Base esq +40

    I figure I can choose from any of the three available perks, though they all look pretty identical with few differences. Each one ties into one of my stats and aims to multiply it. Now I¡¯m regretting not looking at this first before spending all my Essence points.

    My first thought is to go for [Mana Fiend]. Magic calls to me, but without any way of exercising it I doubt it¡¯d be of any use. [Dexterous Fiend] is also tempting for the passive boost in healing, but it isn¡¯t what I need now. Frankly, [Reais Fiend] makes the most sense. Essence is the life blood of everything in this world¡ªit makes sense to have as much of it as possible.

    All choices give a base to esq, what I¡¯m assuming determines a Demon¡¯s worth around here. [Reais Fiend] also provides a reduced cost to how much Essence I¡¯ll need for things like shielding myself from sandstorm attacks, not to mention the extra Agility to escape tight spots. I smile and pick it without another thought.

    Growth will be difficult, but not stagnant.

    I¡¯m prepared, immortal, and willing to pursue the power I¡¯ll need to achieve my goals. If things continue like this, it won¡¯t be long.

    I¡¯ll find the Gods of my world and make them pay.

    Aside from the incredulous fact that the targets of my ire are Gods and I¡¯m a lowly Fiend of Reais, there are other more pressing hurdles to jump through. Like answering questions.

    Where is my world? Can I return? Who were the Gods that ruled over it? And¡­ who am I?

    Some things haven¡¯t changed even with my consumption of the tusked Demon¡¯s blood and my triumph over the Lizardfolk. My [Name] remains bare and the fragmented pieces of my Human past are all I have to go by, not even enough to remember my gender¡­ but somehow enough to remember the agonizing moments living in my godless world. Enough to be certain that whatever Deities sent me to the Wall of Faithless never existed in my world.

    Gritting my teeth, I resist the thought that I may be wrong, the ill-thought that my anger and fury are baseless and I was a Faithless muck as a Human. It wouldn¡¯t make sense for me to be wrong¡ªin all my torturous memories I have nothing resembling magic. If there¡¯s no magic, then there aren¡¯t any Gods.

    To my feet, I direct the Essence from my front and into my eyes. I lose less of it this way and regain my full sight, albeit tinted red, but I can¡¯t complain if it means I get a sense of where I¡¯m wandering to in this storm.

    Hissing as the sting of scalding granules intensifies, I start off again in the direction I¡¯ve been headed to since I started running. But something odd catches my sight.

    In the distance, a few paces away, is a mound of sand, a heap unlike any of the other dunes and elevations. Shuffling movement in my periphery alerts me to another and then another.

    That makes three¡­ any others?

    A cursory look around the desert says no but that gives me little peace.

    Have they always been there? Did I pass them when I sat down?

    Cautious, I shift toward the single sturdy rock, pressing my back against it once more, and to my shock all three heaps shuffle closer, the sands shifting and pouring over as it moves to cover the space.

    There¡¯s something in there. Or maybe the something is the sand heap itself?

    Sand Demons? Could there be such a thing? I don¡¯t know, but whatever it is, they¡¯ve crept up on me and are working in tandem with each other.

    Should I move again? Shit, of course I should, this storm will eat through me if I don¡¯t.

    Staring at the mounds sparks a thought.

    With how hot the sand is, it¡¯s a much better blanket from the storm than my naked skin. But how do I burrow through the sand with a Human body?

    Questions for another moment. The heaps aren¡¯t content with the simple standoff we have going on and start moving. The sand heap grows tall, falling over the sides of them like a waterfall as my chest pounds and my fists ball up, ready for a confrontation until¡ª

    Bursting out of the mounds are large skittering insects, black, red, and green with plenty of chitinous legs scuttling through the sand. The black, long, horned creature with no face other than a chattering mound with a mouth pouring sand and sputtering goop makes it to me first.

    With a thrust of its horned head, it catches me off-balance, gnashing a wound into my chest as it knocks me aside.

    Howling in pain, I¡¯m given no reprieve as a long green stinger pierces my side. I look up and find my second assailant: countless beady eyes stare back at me as it rubs thin stick-like arms together and sucks on its meal. Me.

    The sensation of my blood rushing out of me is not one I appreciate, but the giant insect manages to keep me down. My struggles only bring more pain as its stinger remains embedded in my shoulder.

    Before I can begin to consider my options or the dreary thought that this is where my journey ends, the stinger snaps in my shoulder. Again, I don¡¯t bother screaming. Rather, my pained attention is drawn to the red, heavy, beetle-like insect that rammed the bloodsucker off of me.

    Scrambling to my feet, woozy from blood loss but awake with a rush of adrenaline, fear, and a burst of hope, I make out the three insects. The deep focus-enhancer sharpening my senses and dulling the pain must be adrenaline, but it doesn¡¯t feel normal.

    They all stand on several legs, some thicker than the others, with the green bloodsucker having the thinnest limbs. It looks like a breed between a mosquito and an ant, the broken stinger protruding from its small ant-shaped head and body.

    [Inurri]

    The long-horned insect poses on all eight legs, posturing against the two and chittering at them. Its wide, black back breaks open with buzzing wings every few seconds as it studies the two.

    [Adar]

    The red creature worries me the most. With a wide and structured head, it acts as an effective battering ram. The head armor parts and a jaw falls open, releasing steaming liquids to the ground as it breathes from its earlier charge. At first I thought it looked like a beetle, but on closer inspection I find it¡¯s more of a locust-shaped creature with a weird head.

    [Tagorria]

    Each of these Demons reeks of Essence, a power that calls to me, beckoning me to sink my teeth into each of them, to rip it out and have it for myself. But their Crystals aren¡¯t visible to me¡ªmy senses, cravings, are all I can go on.

    It¡¯s a relief to see they aren¡¯t working together, but they¡¯re more than simple-minded insects to bother cornering me in the first place. They must think I¡¯m injured enough to leave to the side and decide who gets to fill their stomach.

    As raw as the call to battle for their Essence is, I have enough sense to know I¡¯m screwed. Already on my feet, I turn tail and start the first stretch of sprints to escape.

    The chittering and buzzing grow louder a second after, and before I know it the [Inurri] lands in front of me, wings buzzing and stinger dripping with steaming saliva.

    Alright then¡­ no escape. So how does the prey become the hunter?

 Step 2- Adapt (P2)

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 4years

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.2¡ª 65esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 14

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 13

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 5]

    Traits: [Calloused Exterior]- Lvl.1

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: Nil

    Patron: Nil

    <hr>

    I¡¯m cornered.

    The horned one, [Inurri], snaps its little cube-shaped head at me, wings buzzing as it closes in on me. There¡¯s no escape to be had, not with [Adar] and [Tagorria] waiting at either side and both drawing closer, tightening the trap.

    There¡¯s no way around it. Fueling my good arm with Essence, I attempt once again to form claws at my fingertips but to no avail. Still, the bulking and tensing in my muscles should be enough, it¡¯s all I have.

    With a desperate roar I make a dash toward [Inurri] and the mosquito-headed ant strafes and matches me in charge. Numerous legs skitter, and the broken stinger is poised as the [Inurri] lunges at me, trying to pierce my chest.

    Faster than I ever thought myself capable, I grab hold of its stinger and dig my feet into the burning sands, pushed back by the force of the [Inurri¡¯s] charge. Beginning to slow, I follow the defense with a tug. My arm pulses with Essence as I heft the Demon overhead and toss it toward [Adar].

    [Adar] snaps out its wings and flits away from the tumbling [Inurri]. Still, there¡¯s no reprieve as even in these winds I can catch the shuffling strides of [Tagorria] on its way to bite my head off.

    I take a dive and roll to the side, tumbling away from the locust-shaped battering Demon. A quick scan finds the others recovering¡ª[Adar] is a bit distracted snapping at [Tagorria], but otherwise they¡¯re up.

    So soon¡­

    Panting, I dive away from the charging [Tagorria] and grunt at the strain on my shoulder. It¡¯s started to swell up.

    Venomous stinger. Damn it.

    As [Adar] buzzes into the air, drooling some sort of mucous from its mouth, I watch the other two, particularly the venomous one. At the point of its broken stinger glows a spindle of Essence, a crimson-colored spindle of mist elongating the broken stinger and healing it gradually.

    They can regenerate? Why can¡¯t I?

    One of the reasons I¡¯m so cautious of the biting desert storm is because I¡¯ve found no way of regenerating my body on my own¡­ at will. My closest experience with regeneration was immediately after the tusked Demon threw me off and burned off my lips. They grew back the next minute, but I suppose fresh blood and flesh, as well as the powerful Essence I sucked out of the tusked Demon, shifted the chances of regenerating.

    At will, I divide a portion of the Essence empowering my arm and direct it at the swelling.

    The area soothes, lessening rather than bulging with muscle like my other arm. Intent is important, I note.

    Gritting my teeth, I prepare myself to go against all three Crimson-level Demons with the injuries they¡¯ve inflicted.

    Since the start of this mess I¡¯ve gotten hit by two of them once, and I¡¯m almost handicapped with the venom coursing through, barely slowed by Essence. It¡¯s a lot for a start, especially since I haven¡¯t taken down any of the three and one is healing from its injury.

    Screeching wildly, [Adar] lunges from the sky, jaw slack and teeth bared as it makes to snap my head off. The long gash in my chest is still fresh from its last attack, and I start to run. My feet scuffle against the burning sand, only to catch a rock, and I spill on my back, vulnerable.

    In a snap it mounts me, wings settling into its back as it bares against my good arm I¡¯ve brought up to protect myself.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Its friends don¡¯t waste any time covering the rear, skittering closer to have their piece of me. The sight of [Inurri] bursts a bubble of fear within me¡ªits stinger is nearly complete.

    I abandon my good arm to the jaws of [Adar] on top of me, retrieving the Essence flooding it, and with a single snap of its maw agony beyond anything I¡¯ve ever experienced jolts me into quicker action.

    Tugging on the vibrating sensation in my swollen shoulder, I flood it with all the Essence I can manage until it breaks. The Essence and tingling venom within rush throughout my right arm, morphing it, peeling skin and condensing flesh. The combination splits and fuses my bone into a long, single sharp point. A point that spears through the horned head of [Adar] and pumps what I know is venom into it.

    [Adar] falls slack over me, its weight barely held by my stinger arm. [Inurri] and [Tagorria] come to a stop at the development, the loss of their fellow Demon. The two study me as I struggle to pick myself up from under the heavy carapace corpse of the third Demon. It¡¯s a lot harder with one arm bitten off and the other transformed into a stinger.

    My first instinct is to dig out for the throbbing [Soul Crystal] hidden in the corpse, but I can¡¯t. Both from a practical sense, because I have no arm with opposable thumbs, and from a sensible decision with the other two studying my every move.

    There¡¯s chittering from [Tagorria]; its large locust body and shielded head parts to reveal the drooling maw aching to digest me. It starts to charge.

    In the corner of my eye [Inurri] still stands in wait, looking for the outcome of this fight, so I turn my full attention to the charging Demon, its wide, shielded head shut and ready to ram me into oblivion if I¡¯m not ready. But this time I am.

    ¡°Raaarggh!¡± With a costly roar as sands slice into my open mouth, I poise to spear through [Tagorria] like I did the one at my feet.

    My stinger meets its shield with force, enough force to threaten to snap my stinger even as it doesn¡¯t make a dent. Eyes bulging, I realize the mistake just in time to strafe to the side and duck under a wide swipe of one of its six legs.

    Antennae waving, it¡¯s quick to realign itself, hiding soft spots and weak joints. Grinding my teeth, I pull on even more Essence from my [Soul Crystal] and pump it into my morphed arm; it staunches the bleeding from my lost one. My stinger straightens in response to the flood of power, the bend and crack from meeting the shield is patched and strengthened, but still not enough to charge right back in at the swiping [Tagorria].

    It charges after me again, all six legs skittering forward with its head set to bash me in.

    I¡¯ve got to get the sides¡­!

    Target in mind, I bring up my left side, propping my armless shoulder best I can for¡ª

    ¡°Argh!¡±

    The numerous cracks are loud and audible. Bone pierces out of my skin from the impact. My shoulder has definitely shattered, but I steal the opportunity I need and jab my stinger right over its head as it slams into me.

    The impact alone isn¡¯t enough to send me flying, not with my stinger lodged in what I think is its neck. The Demon locust lets out a cry and starts thrashing, lifting and pulling me by my stinger. I grunt as all I have to fight against it dragging me are my feet.

    But even worse is what I find in my periphery. [Inurri] starts to strut toward us, confident in its victory, secured in its meal.

    It¡¯ll finish me and this Demon off and feast on our corpses!

    In agony and close to death, the thought of all this work serving that Demon burns. This feast is mine.

    ¡°Stay still!¡± I punctuate the command with a pump of venom into the [Tagorria], sinking my stinger arm even deeper and making a mess of its neck. It turns and pulls and thrashes around with my stinger arm until the wound is a gaping hole.

    Pushing in even deeper until my stinger bursts out the other side, I grunt, struggling against the tough carapace and flesh, but in the end I manage to rip my arm out of the [Tagorria¡¯s] neck, essentially decapitating it.

    The ominous buzzing behind me meets me fuming. Turning to look up at it, I¡¯m struck with a sense that it¡¯s extremely pleased with itself right now.

    I bet it is.

    The dire remnants of strength motivate me to fight even harder for my life, but I¡¯ve lost an arm, shattered my shoulder, and I¡¯m facing the Demon I unintentionally mimicked. This close up I can spot the fundamental differences between our stingers, but it doesn¡¯t matter. My muscles are exhausted, and my body¡¯s been abused to the point I¡¯m surprised I¡¯m still conscious.

    [Inurri] readies, pulling back its head for a strike with its stinger. The attack comes down hard, and I barely have the strength to maintain my block. Again I sense a feeling from it¡ªshock, annoyance.

    Heh¡­ I¡¯m not going down without a¡ª

    Black, sharp objects break into the sides of [Inurri]. Zipping out from the billowing winds are more of these objects, peppering the ant mosquito to the point its large behind bursts open, pouring out acid as it tumbles over on its side. Dead.

    Crumbling to my knees, I pant, huffing to catch my breath, sandy as it is. But there¡¯s no such thing, my mind rips with pain as images flash through it, images of Humans killing Demons and¡­

    ¡°No! No, I¡­ I was Human. I don¡¯t think I am anymore.¡± Blinking at myself, I stare back into the sandy dunes until my eyes catch a figure. It stalks forward slowly until it¡¯s in full view and a good distance away from me.

    Three yellow eyes study the surroundings from their bony sockets. A narrow nose rests below, but it¡¯s the large mouth below that demands all my attention. A wide grin reveals two large canines and a slithering tongue that licks its lips. Long round ears sit on each side of its short, fat head, which is covered by some kind of cloth, a hood, and has two stubby horns protruding from the sides.

    Its small, fat body is slightly hunched over. Two short arms rest at the sides and end in wide hands with short fingers, each with long clawed nails. Likely the black object that fired at [Inurri]. Its legs are short and stand straight, each ending in small feet.

    [Khozuik] is what I see it described as.

    The fact that it dons a wide, brown, hooded cloth over itself means it must be intelligent, far more intelligent than the dead insects around me at least.

    And it asked a question¡­ with images, but a question nonetheless. This is an individual, a thinking individual. Now¡­ how to communicate.

    Slowly, I get on my feet, but in a snap it brings up its arm, pointing the sharp claws right at my face and slamming my mind with dozens of images of all sorts of bipedal creatures kneeling.

    Back on my knees then.

    It walks closer, close enough that I can hear it humming over the winds. And through images it observes, ¡°You very Human. Close, but no Human organ.¡±

    The image of Human genitalia floods my head and I shake it, replying, ¡°No, I¡¯m not Human¡­ anymore. I used to be, but now I¡­ I¡¯m not so sure.¡±

    Again it slams me with images of genitalia, and I can tell it wants me to show it my genitals. Growling, tired, hungry, and with my knees burning, I ground out, ¡°Does it matter? I don¡¯t have any.¡±

    It blinks at me, lips turning in a frown. ¡°Noisy, will sell as new Human.¡±

    Wait¡­ sell me?

    ¡°Can I¡­?¡± I start to ask, reaching for the corpse of [Inurri], and it screams at me, jabbing its claws my way.

    ¡°No! Soul Crystal mine! No move!¡±

    Still got robbed. I hate this place.

 Step 2- Adapt (P3)

    [Khozuik]

    Its back is hunched, broad and fat and also sprouting long, arched spikes similar to the ones fired out of its back. From this I know for a fact that every Demon I¡¯ve encountered is one that reached the end of the line, and each one of them that did possesses one deadly weapon or another within their bodies.

    I have none.

    It may have led to a better outcome if it had been offered¡ªa natural weapon as strong as theirs is something I¡¯d need to climb the ladders in this place. But instead I¡¯m here, an arm sacrificed, shoulder splintered and precious Essence wasted on a fight that didn¡¯t reap a single [Soul Crystal].

    This will be difficult.

    The dread swirling inside of me brews growling desperation as its spiked back aggravates me. It plans to sell me as a Human, and I can only imagine the outcome of a successful sale would entail even more torture.

    I have to escape somehow.

    But it¡¯s roped my remaining limbs together so I also walk hunched over, and it¡¯s cautious enough to link these ropes to the tail in its hand several feet away. Even if I had a second arm, it¡¯d be difficult to attack it.

    The pit of dread in my stomach deepens and I babble, ¡°Which one of the three changed you? When you arrived.¡±

    It¡¯s the only thing I can think of to start a conversation, a friendly kind anyway. Then of course I¡¯ll beg that it spares me.

    Its response to my noise is a grunt and a tug on the rope that nearly trips me over. It blasts into my head images, ¡°Silence.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t get transformed. I bit into one of the Demon¡¯s boils and ran away in the chaos. But if it didn¡¯t try to eat me I guess I¡¯d be in the Fire Divide.¡±

    I wince as it now barks them into my head, ¡°Be silent, understand your noise, no!¡±

    Wait, it doesn¡¯t understand me? So I¡¯ve been speaking to myself?

    But then, why would a Demon understand English? It could be why it doesn¡¯t use its mouth much¡ªit¡¯s a telepath blasting images in my head to communicate its commands.

    Now if only I could do the same.

    Furrowing my brows, I burn a hole in the back of its head, glaring until it hurts and I give up on the endeavor. In hindsight, it was stupid to try because everything about me is on my stat sheet.

    It must have been a coincidence I suffered beside someone who also spoke my tongue. That Deader¡­ I¡¯ll miss them.

    The thought frightens me still, the fact that I may have woken up alone, trapped with no mournful conversation offered for a duration of suffering as long as I endured. It would have been further insanity, one many Deaders suffer as the Wall swallows them whole.

    As the spiked Demon continues to drag me along, I yelp as a large man walks beside me. His face is a cross between an Orc and a Human, although if I were to judge I¡¯d say he¡¯s more Orc than Human. Large tusks poke out of his lip, and as he smiles down at me I catch sight of the large row of dangerous dentures. He ventures forth, armored and armed with a heavy blade. The Demon doesn¡¯t seem to see him, but the half-Orc man doesn¡¯t mind the Demon, he merely beckons to me.

    I try to speak but find myself without a voice. Darkness swells around me, the Demon fades, and I sense my body spill over. A loud roar startles me back up, except I¡¯m unbound and wielding a long pole weapon. There¡¯s a cave ahead of me. I¡¯m sweating and the armor weighs several tons. Still, I run in after the screams, chasing into the dark of the cave until my arm jerks and fires something into the darkness.

    The light of what I threw flickers and flares until I¡¯m left in the dark again. I turn, looking around for an exit or even the entrance, but I find neither. ¡°Hello? Where am-!¡±

    The half-Orc man¡¯s corpse is at my feet now. Crusted with some kind of rust, puss spills from his wounds and claw marks trace along his face. His teeth are gone. A bony hand snatches my feet and the rot takes me.

    ¡°Aaah!¡± I wake up screaming, spilled over in the dirt, my skin dragged along the sand as the Demon, the [Khozuik], continues to pay me no mind.

    What was that?

    Where did I go? Did the Demon cause that? I grit my teeth and pull myself back up, my heart thumping away behind my chest. That¡¯s the second time something like that has happened. Are the horrors still not over? I thought the Wall¡­ no, I¡¯m somewhere new now, I left the Wall.

    Setting past fears aside, I focus on the current ones as the [Khozuik] and I come upon a city in the distance. Large with widely spaced and hive-shaped buildings that may as well be collapsed, above there¡¯s a horde of Demons circling over the city, screeching and clawing at each other every so often but otherwise only circling the city¡¯s skies.

    It¡¯s walled, barricaded actually, by a wall made of the same material except where it¡¯s broken with holes and stuffed with rotting bodies. I can¡¯t make out what the bodies were from where I stand, but there¡¯s a whole mess of different biological features.

    The [Khozuik] grumbles at another Demon squatting at the side of the gate, a fat beast with a second mouth on a rounded potbelly, and we wander through the city.

    A Demon city.

    It¡¯s a bit hard to digest that they¡¯re this organized.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    But then I never thought Demons existed.

    The [Khozuik] drags me through a leveled and partly cobbled ground in the city. It makes no sense at first glance, cobbled sand, but I¡¯ve lost an entire arm to a giant insect and been caught by an ugly monster, so I¡¯m taking things as I see them now.

    The city is filled with horrific sights, and for the first time since waiting in the line I¡¯ve come across Humans. There¡¯s barely anything dignified about them as various Demons pull on them the same way the [Khozuik] pulls on me.

    Enslaved, the Humans we pass by are being used, eaten, or forced to labor. Reais isn¡¯t a good place to be Human¡ªactually, it isn¡¯t a good place to be anything, worse still a Demon.

    The city is a bastion of the same horrific scenes, but even more so with the victims being grotesque Demons themselves. A majority of the Humans are under some kind of haze; they don¡¯t seem to feel anything that¡¯s happening to them, only grunting and coughing with the momentum of pain, and the others are just dead.

    It¡¯s an unnerving sight to behold, but even worse is the [Khozuik¡¯s] wide grin and glint of glee as it watches me watch them.

    I¡¯m going to die again.

    Recognizing the fact sets me in an oddly calm mood. My agitated nerves relax and it feels like I¡¯ve found that haze.

    The [Khozuik] drags me into one of the taller and whole buildings left in the city. Already I can tell its importance, if only from the strong presence of security. The building is a massive mansion, filled with skittering and clacking from the insect Demons.

    The floor is leveled and finely cobbled, the open doorways are framed with rich curtains, and there¡¯s a surround sound of screaming as some rooms echo torture.

    The [Khozuik] stops at the end of the long and wide corridor, arriving at stairs on either side that curve along the wall to a massive¡­ lair.

    There are other Demons, minor ones sorting through shelves of books, piles of scrolls, and a table cluttered with plucked-out [Soul Crystals], all gleaming with rich and ripe Essence for the taking. It makes my mouth wet and a hunger ache in my center.

    There are a variety of other things, even a throne and long war table, but what stands out the most is the creature sifting through it all. A large Demon, with a centipede-like bottom half crawling with at least fifty legs all together along a segregated torso and a wide beetle head and horn.

    The mesh of various insect species exudes power near the level of the house-sized Demons at the end of the line. The [Khozuik] grumbles something and yells out, his voice echoing through the minds of every Demon in the lair.

    ¡°You like this,¡± is my rough translation.

    All the little Demons skittering and crawling around the room come to a standstill and stare up at the meshed Demon. An identification hasn¡¯t popped up on it, just like it didn¡¯t with the tusked Demon and its partners, and I suspect it has something to do with the strength they exude compared to my own.

    It chitters something with its mouth and sends out a telepathic impulse to leave, and the minor Demons stampede out of the room en masse, leaving the [Khozuik] and I with it.

    The mesh Demon shifts and commands us forward. The [Khozuik] nods and hauls me down the stairs to get a better scale of the mesh Demon¡¯s size. It looms over me, twice or three times the size of the Demons I fought out in the desert.

    The [Khozuik] speaks, ¡°Human.¡± The mesh Demon studies me closer. It radiates a foul power that causes me to flinch and drip with anxiety. Somehow it¡¯s even more terrifying than the tusked Demon was.

    This is it. I¡¯m dead.

    ¡°No. Demon,¡± the mesh Demon answers curtly, its mind¡¯s voice leaking out so I can eavesdrop.

    ¡°Can work like Human,¡± the [Khozuik] insists.

    The mesh Demon looks away, its attention on the unfurled scroll floating in front of it.

    The [Khozuik] repeats himself, ¡°Can work like Human,¡± and the mesh Demon turns, beginning to reverberate hostility, but I¡¯m already overwhelmed by its passive power. I collapse. The wave of hostility diminishes and my gutless eyes peer open to find the [Khozuik] kneeling before the mesh Demon.

    Its voice resonates again. ¡°Where did you find it?¡± The mesh Demon¡¯s telepathic speech is somehow easier for me to translate and find deeper meaning in.

    ¡°Battle. Kill two strays. Have their Soul Crystal,¡± he says, revealing the Crystals in his clawed palm.

    The mesh Demon falls silent and still as a statue for a moment and then snaps to face me, its gruesome face chittering and heaving rancid breaths.

    ¡°You are a strange one¡­ there is something else, besides you.¡± I don¡¯t understand what it means by that, but it could be a translation problem. It continues, ¡°But you are capable. You would have been efficient if my servant here didn¡¯t find you. Do you want your arm? Do you want your life?¡±

    It¡¯s a rapid pause-start string of sentences that bombard my mind with such ferocity that I understand clearly the implications of each of them. Language and telepathy attune to its power.

    Already I can tell it wants me to serve its purpose, deep in my gut I can tell, like instinct.

    Or experience.

    The radiating sixth sense could be from the trickling flashes of my life before now.

    None of that matters now though. The mesh Demon narrows its gaze. I can feel it piercing my mind and wonder if it heard all that.

    ¡°I do,¡± I mutter out from my mouth, lacking the widespread telepathic skill of Demons.

    Still, the mesh Demon pulls away from my face and offers it, ¡°As you have thought, I want your servitude. Reliable commanders are needed. You could be one.¡±

    It confirms that my thoughts are heard, and I can¡¯t help feeling startled, especially given the fact that I¡¯ve thought it looks hideous.

    ¡°Commanders¡­ for what?¡±

    ¡°My will, whatever it may be.¡±

    I take in fresh breaths of air, free air. There¡¯s no reason to refuse the offer and die; if this Demon can heal me and wants me to work for it, I¡¯m sure there will be rewards, as much as there will be inconveniences. Servitude is never without them.

    But as far as I see it, this counts as a good thing. Whatever rewards there are to be had I¡¯m sure will help me get stronger. If the [Khozuik] is any example, it means there¡¯s a chance I¡¯ll get some form of compensation. The [Khozuik] doesn¡¯t look too unhappy serving the mesh Demon anyway.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll be your commander.¡±

    ¡°Perfect,¡± the mesh Demon purrs. ¡°I am Calridian, Lord Demon of this city. Do you have a name?¡±

    Name: Nil

    ¡°I¡­ cannot remember my name, but I suppose Nil will suffice for now.¡±

    It seems to smirk, but that¡¯s physically impossible for it, so it terrorizes me with the attempt. ¡°Then, Nil, do not get ahead of yourself. You must prove your worth to me still. Your hidden¡­ potential isn¡¯t enough alone.¡±

    Of course it isn¡¯t.

    ¡°Gerim, release it.¡±

    It?

    Gerim, or the [Khozuik] as I¡¯ve gotten to know him, gets to untying my bonds and giving me freedom once again. ¡°Let it consume the Crystals it earned.¡±

    My ears perk up at this, but Gerim isn¡¯t pleased. He growls right back, surprised and outraged for a split second before he¡¯s reminded why he¡¯s a servant. Calridian merely tosses a gaze at him and his noise comes to a halt.

    Reluctant, Gerim places two of the three harvested Crystals in my hand and keeps the third. But I want the third.

    ¡°Uh¡­ I would have killed the last one too if it wasn¡¯t for his interference. He stole my kill.¡±

    A rumble akin to what may equate to a chuckle erupts from Calridian. ¡°Next time kill them faster. Gerim will be your mentor, you can pick up the language from him. But, Gerim, let it rest here for the moment. When it¡¯s whole again, lecture it on the important knowledge and feed it. Once it¡¯s ready, bring it to me.¡±

    I¡¯ve got a biting urge to point out that I am in fact not an ¡°it,¡± but then I haven¡¯t the slightest clue what I am if not an ¡°it.¡± For the moment I swallow my discontent: Calridian has been generous.

    Gerim grumbles and telepathically commands me to follow him. I do, and we leave Calridian to his work.

    I guess I survived.

 Step 3- Gather Resources

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 4years, 3months

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.2¡ª 80esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 14

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 13

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 4]

    Traits: [Calloused Exterior]- Lvl.1, [Telepathy]- Lvl.2

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: Nil

    Patron: Nil

    My eyes snap open and bore into the roof of the sustained building around me. My heart thumps away in my chest, my nostrils flare, and sweat soaks the sand underneath me.

    The nightmares are ceaseless. Even now I can¡¯t tell if I¡¯m in another waking nightmare or in the reality I ought to be in. I¡¯ve spent three months under Gerim and Calridian¡¯s care¡ª though I haven¡¯t seen the massive Demon since my first day here.

    Gerim¡¯s done a reasonable job as a mentor, considering he can¡¯t stand me. He¡¯s taught me about what this new reality is meant to be like and his teachings are the words keeping me off the fringes of insanity.

    The first thing he let me know was my worth. As a Crimson-tier Demon, my [Soul Crystal] is worth anywhere from 3esq to 12esq. The Crystals I absorbed proved his words when they gave me 8esq and 4esq. To serve Calridian as a commander I have to ascend to the Blood Orange tier, a tier Gerim is well acquainted with. To ascend I need 480esq or more. There are other tiers, but Gerim only cared to talk about Blood Orange and Crimson.

    He warns that after a certain point the esq I absorb from Pink tiers will taint my quality. The goal is to become the thickest shade of red it seems¡ªat some point absorbing Pink tiers will give me negative esq but will still provide the [Soul Crystal] with Essence for use.

    The Essence I got from the Crystals I absorbed was meager but enough to start regenerating my lost arm. But it¡¯s been three months already and it¡¯s still not grown back fully; at this point I¡¯ve begun to rethink my [Ascension Perk] choices.

    Spending time working with Gerim¡ªhelping him relay orders to Demons around the city¡ªhas earned me a new, shiny, useful trait. [Telepathy]. I sunk a Trait point into it the moment I got it and now speaking and being spoken to isn¡¯t such a hassle.

    The less coherent images Gerim sends out telepathically cleared up. As a result, I can translate and pick up most subsurface thoughts like euphemism, metaphors, and a lot of innuendos. Essentially, it converted the raw telepathic and psychic information into digestible data.

    I¡¯ve accrued enough to start my own conversations, although I rarely ever need or want to. The only other conversations I¡¯ve had with Demons other than Gerim are the ones that get me out of being eaten.

    Gerim steps in for the worst of it most of the time, but I¡¯ve had to fight my way out of assault a few dozen times. Humans¡ªlive, fresh-looking Humans¡ªare a delicacy, and I look awfully like one to the simpler minds of the city.

    While the frequent attacks are a pain when I¡¯m carrying out tasks for Gerim, I¡¯ve tried to lean back on the positives. It¡¯s illegal to start a fight among other Demons here. If you do and get killed, the person you attacked gets to keep half of the plucked [Soul Crystal]. But of course, there¡¯s a reason for that, and it¡¯s because you¡¯d need another half of a [Soul Crystal] to absorb the Essence within. With the way it works, I bet it has something to do with the polarity of the Crystals.

    I¡¯ve ended three Demons since stepping in here and wasted one half of a [Soul Crystal] attempting to absorb Essence. It blew up right in my face and threw me through several stone walls. I absorbed the one whole Crystal I had, warranting me a meagre 3esq, but I continue to anticipate the next fight.

    Although the fights are usually stopped by one of the winged Demons circling the city¡¯s sky. With large buzzing wings and a stinger dripping with venom¡ªalthough they aren¡¯t always a grotesque version of a bee¡ªthe winged Demons are terrifying to look at.

    Getting a glazing sting or slash from them is always a pain, and what I tell Gerim is the reason I¡¯m regenerating too slowly. Of course, his retort is to bark about eating more.

    Since becoming a Demon, I don¡¯t experience certain things the way I used to as a Human. Or at least the way I expect to. Fatigue is hard to come by, even when I stood for four years. But I¡¯ve never been as tired as I was out in the desert fighting those Demons.

    I don¡¯t need to sleep, but I can and it feels good. I don¡¯t suffer hunger, but I can¡¯t help craving a sweet render of flesh and a slosh of blood down my throat. It¡¯s not a banging craving, demanding to be satiated, and it helps the regenerative process. Any time Gerim¡¯s bothered to share a piece of his latest hunt ,I notice a spike in how much more my arm grows.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I asked him to bring me more whenever he can, and he has. Three times over the past three months to be exact. And now he tells me to come to earn my share in the hunt. A fair compromise, although inconvenient since I¡¯m still one-handed. But I don¡¯t have much of a choice, especially if I want to start reaping the benefits of working for Calridian.

    Benefits I¡¯ll be learning about if I do well on the hunt today. Since stepping into the city, I haven¡¯t met or seen anyone on the same level as Calridian. The suffocating strength he imposed is unforgettable.

    For most of the observed population I can see the identifying icons hovering above their heads, so I¡¯m not too far off in strength from them. I¡¯d say we¡¯re in the same bracket.

    But there are few who have no icon and wear a stifling power around them. Like a Demon I met on the way out of Calridian¡¯s chambers the first day I was there.

    Still, there are a couple hundred Demons within the city, and from what I¡¯ve seen of Demons, they have trouble functioning as a whole. From this fact alone the city becomes an unreliable gathering¡ªthe fact that there¡¯s a reward for killing your assailant means there will be assailants.

    But the Demons stay within the city regardless and abide, suppressing the innate desire to tear into the nearest foe and rip out their [Soul Crystal]. Why? There¡¯s got to be some benefit to why so many Demons would stop fighting each other and attempt to co-exist.

    As it is, there isn¡¯t much else of a reason for me not to step back out into the desert. After all, I¡¯m not going to find the answers I¡¯m looking for if I¡¯m simply coexisting.

    My promise to serve him? Be his commander? I¡¯m left unbound! I could¡¯ve waltzed back right after we left his lair if I wanted to, and nothing¡¯s stopping me now. Of course they could chase after me, but am I worth it? No.

    The only thing keeping me here now is my curiosity. I want to know what Calridian considers proven, what kind of strength, potential he sees in me. I don¡¯t have the slightest clue how things work in Reais¡ªthe stat sheet, the [Traits] and [Abilities], it¡¯s all very confusing.

    Calridian presents himself as a Demon who has these things under control, and I¡¯d like to learn. My ¡°mentor¡± hasn¡¯t exactly been the best. And speaking of the devil¡ª

    Gerim walks down the wide hall leading from the lair; he reaches out, and I narrowly avoid his incoming smack attack. Gerim, I¡¯ve found, can¡¯t contain his impulses around subordinates.

    ¡°What did he say?¡± I pester. He¡¯d picked me up from my hovel, tossed a dark desert cloak at me, and outright told me about Calridian wanting me to do well on the hunt.

    But I¡¯m missing an arm, so I begged Gerim to speak on my behalf and delay whatever performance the powerful Demon wants from me until I¡¯m whole again. To my shock Gerim agreed, and here I am picking at the threads of my dusty desert cloak.

    The desert cloak is the only piece of clothing I¡¯ve tried on, but I can tell it¡¯s not ordinary. There¡¯s a circulating pulse, a thrum of magic in the fabrics. It¡¯s only for stormy conditions or ¡°commander errands.¡± It¡¯s a poor name for Calridian¡¯s stray hunters, but I can only blame myself for the poor psychic translation.

    ¡°Hunt. You kill four, he doesn¡¯t kill you.¡±

    Despite it being a valid threat, I can¡¯t help rolling my eyes at it. ¡°Might be a bit difficult with one arm¡ªuh, never mind, got it.¡±

    Gerim¡¯s death stare recedes as we step out of the building and he gestures at a group of three. Generally tall and lanky bipedal beetle Demons, they perk up at Gerim and fall into stride with us. The tallest and broadest immediately starts talking.

    Two lanky arms are folded across its chest as the other two gesticulate and demand answers. ¡°Alright, what did he say? Can I do it? Lead my ow¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough, Hargoil, he didn¡¯t let me speak of it. It might be the farthest thing from his mind. You should give up already.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t blow me off! Admit it, you won¡¯t bring it up to him because you need me under you. If you won¡¯t tell him, I will!¡± Hargoil, the four-armed beetle, turns back, storming toward Calridian¡¯s lair.

    ¡°Oh stop it. You¡¯re going to get us both killed!¡± Gerim grabs an arm and halts him with ease. ¡°Look, if you want to get yelled at by Calridian himself, I¡¯ll let you in on our next meeting.¡±

    ¡°And when is that?¡±

    ¡°Right after the newest addition to my squad completes Calridian¡¯s task.¡±

    Hargoil peers at me. His head is sculpted as a helm of sorts, a small part of it bearing a hole¡ªwhat I¡¯d call a mouth with teeth in all directions. Above this hole of teeth are long narrow rows that curve around the gleaming red sockets.

    A thrilling sound echoes from his mouth as he turns his attention to me. ¡°I barely noticed¡­ a bit weak for you, don¡¯t you think?¡± he says to Gerim, staring at me all the while.

    Gerim grunts in agreement. ¡°Like with you, it isn¡¯t up to me. Help out. It¡¯s a certified hunt too, so you can reap all the Soul Crystals you catch.¡±

    I can¡¯t believe it. Gerim being generous?

    That¡¯s as rare as finding a good-looking Demon. Hargoil shifts his focus, regarding Gerim for a moment before pointing at the shorter pair of beetle Demons.

    [Lardoa]

    Hargoil has one of these icons as well.

    ¡°Them too? If I¡¯m taking them on my squad, then I¡¯ve got to get them ready. Better than them being under you at least.¡±

    Gerim sneers, growling, but relents at the end. ¡°Them too.¡±

    This pleases Hargoil: his psychic energy oozes pride as he perks up and beckons the two [Lardoa]. They follow Hargoil in the other direction, already muttering to themselves, and Gerim starts the stride to the gates.

    ¡°What was that about?¡± I mutter, hushing my telepathy to the best of my ability, but I¡¯m sure someone passing by would hear me loud and clear.

    ¡°Shut up.¡±

    I let out a restrained sigh and walk with him to the gates. We call them gates, but there are few places in the city that are barred by an actual door, much less a gate. The city may as well be a wide-open camp for any feral Demon to waltz into and start a killing spree. But there aren¡¯t any who care to do that it seems.

    I¡¯ve been to the ¡°gates¡± as often as Gerim has me relay orders or feed the guards. On the outskirts, where the city borders end and the desert dunes begin, I can always spot some skulking Demon beyond that point, pacing and debating for hours.

    But in the end, they¡¯re always chased off by some other Demon erupting out of the sand or charging right at them. Watching these Demons hunt and cannibalize each other has been one of my major sources of entertainment.

    I turn to Gerim seated beside me; he¡¯s been mumbling to himself in his mind. Bits of it leak out psychically. I suppose even he doesn¡¯t have a high enough [Telepathy] trait to keep it all hidden.

    ¡°Hey, Gerim? Why don¡¯t those Demons attack or come in at least?¡± I ask the question, not expecting an answer but to try my luck yet again with the Demon. He¡¯s been rather compliant today, could be his new thing.

    He bursts with anger and glares down at me for a moment before turning away and answering, ¡°A lot of them are stupid, but we¡¯re all driven to self-preservation. They know what¡¯ll happen to them if they¡¯re not fit for Calridian¡¯s city.¡±

    Of course¡ªCalridian.

    ¡°You two ready to go?¡±

    I gasp, jumping out of my skin at Hargoil¡¯s sudden appearance.

    Gerim pats the cloak¡¯s bottom and turns to face us. ¡°Simple rules. Don¡¯t bite off more than you can chew. Don¡¯t absorb until we return to Calridian. Help each other.¡±

    Hargoil groans at him, ¡°Heard it all before, let¡¯s get going.¡± He starts walking out into the open desert, the other two [Lardoa] following close behind in protective cloaks of their own.

    Gerim growls down at me, ¡°Four Crystals, nothing less and nothing more. Don¡¯t bite off more than you can chew.¡±

    Done demonstrating his expert mentorship, he stalks off rapidly, eager to outpace Hargoil.

    I let out a long groan and tighten the hood of my cloak. ¡°I won¡¯t be weak for long, you horse-faced, shit cocked bastard imps!¡±

    Another stress reliever of mine is screaming out obscenities, because no one here knows English.

 Step 3- Gather Resources (P2)

    Gerim leads us to the top of the closest sand dune to the city, where he gives everyone an angry look and rumbles in our minds, ¡°Two days, or don¡¯t come back.¡±

    Hargoil shrugs and starts off with the other two [Lardoa] trailing down the sand with him. Gerim lays a clawed hand on my shoulder and squeezes. ¡°Two days, or don¡¯t come back.¡±

    I don¡¯t get to give a response to his extra attention as he leaps off in a completely different direction than Hargoil. I turn to marvel at his great bounds¡ªin two leaps he¡¯s out of view and I¡¯m left with Hargoil¡¯s footprints and a lot of sand.

    The city behind me doesn¡¯t give off any illumination, but the vibrant energy of all the gathered Demons is enough of a beacon to go on. After spending three months there I¡¯ve familiarized myself with it, so finding it again in the desert shouldn¡¯t be a problem.

    Though I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d need to find it all on my own.

    Gerim said this was a hunt. Or at least that¡¯s what my translation told me. He also said to help each other, but how can we help each other if we¡¯re all dispersed?

    I was expecting some help on this hunt, but it¡¯s fine if I don¡¯t have any. In fact, it¡¯s better than fine if I don¡¯t. It means I¡¯ve got no one watching my movements, my actions.

    Staring out into the desert from the top of the dune, I find the storm that greeted me months ago still raging. It blocks off most of the horizon on one side of the Desert Divide with clouds of dirt and scalding sand.

    Hargoil and Gerim are headed that way. In different directions, but the storm is wide and broad enough to cover large parts of the desert as it moves. Both of them are headed that way without giving a moment¡¯s thought to other areas. Why?

    Biting my cheek, I turn away from the storm and start shuffling down the dune. Whatever the reason is, I¡¯m not too curious about finding out right now, not with an incomplete limb at least.

    I¡¯m satisfied playing it safe¡­ well, as safe as the weather allows. At the bottom of the dune, I stop and turn back at the storm.

    Is it safer to hunt in the storm?

    I won¡¯t be getting any answers until at least two days from now, and days here are long. There¡¯s no visible source of light hanging in the sky, but somehow light makes it through, and the system counts each cycle of light and dark.

    In the end, I decide to go with my gut. It¡¯s day right now, so that means I won¡¯t be spending Essence to enhance my vision. Inside the storm would¡¯ve been a different matter¡ªit¡¯s dark, hot, windy, and painful in there.

    Out here it¡¯s different but all the same. As I trudge through the scalding desert, Essence floods my ears. Picking up the difference between the wind and a Demon sneaking up on you has been my saving grace in Calridian¡¯s city.

    With all the illegal attempts to devour me, I¡¯ve found that Demons treat me like I¡¯m being hunted. The dumber ones leap right at me without pausing to think, but the ones who forced a fight have been the ones to stalk my every move until I appeared vulnerable.

    In hindsight, it¡¯s the exact thing those insect Demons did to me when I entered the desert. The hunter becomes the hunted.

    But I¡¯m betting on that.

    I¡¯ve walked over two sand dunes and the vast desert landscape between them now but found nothing. My ears pick up shuffling sounds nearby, and I get excited in anticipation of a fight, but it¡¯s just the wind picking up sand.

    Still I walk. The heat is suffocating, but I know it isn¡¯t damaging. I could keep this up for as long as I want or need to. The hunt is what¡¯s important.

    As I walk across the desert a part of me hopes I¡¯m hunted by something that underestimates me, something like the insects from before. Sometimes I dig my feet into the sand to see if there are any Demons underneath the surface.

    Climbing to the top of the third dune so far, I half expect an arm or claw to burst out and grab me, but I reach the top without challenge. And it¡¯s at the top I catch a glimpse of a figure, walking without a care in the world and about to climb the next dune.

    I grin.

    Redirecting the Essence in my ears to my eyes, I chuckle under my hood and tighten my fist at the [Swak] making its way to the top of the dune ahead.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    [Swak]

    The pale, fat thing is riddled with holes in its flesh. Natural holes. I remember watching a Dragonborn get transformed into one of these.

    Could it be the same one? Doubt it.

    Even if it is, I¡¯ll still have to rip out its Crystal.

    Fueling my legs with Essence, I feel them throb and bulge, becoming stronger, tougher, and far more efficient than they would be on a normal Human body.

    I set my footing, squat, and narrow my eyes at the target before leaping out into the air.

    My single bound is nowhere close to what Gerim is capable of, but I¡¯m sure he has several natural advantages that help, including being a tier ahead of me. For the moment I¡¯m satisfied feeling the billowing winds fight to take off my hood and run through my hair.

    The [Swak], my prey, is not unaware of my presence. As I land several paces away from the base of the dune it climbs, it stops to stare at me and I do the same, halting my pursuit.

    For a short moment, the [Swak] and I observe each other. My exciting landing buried me ankle-deep in the sands, but my feet and legs are fueled with enough Essence that the poor terrain doesn¡¯t matter.

    My eyes narrow at the [Swak] as it growls, unsure what to do: attack or flee.

    However, I¡¯m not burdened with such indecision. My grin resurfaces and I spring into action. Leaping out of the sand, I make it to the base of the dune and start climbing. The [Swak] startles and scrambles to the top, kicking sand down at me as I climb.

    It reaches the top and vanishes from my view, but I¡¯m right on its tail. Digging through the sand, I make it to the top and ready myself for a meal only to have said meal barrel into me, tipping my balance and launching us over the top of the dune.

    The [Swak] and I crash back at the base of the dune, and my prey wastes no time kicking the sands out of its way as it makes a desperate retreat back the way I came.

    Growling at the inconvenience, I give chase once more. This time it only takes a few seconds running at full speed to catch up to the pale creature and stab my arm through its back.

    It groans at my attack but doesn¡¯t seem fazed by it. Instead, it still attempts to escape, sacrificing a chunk of its center mass to my arm as it breaks free of me.

    ¡°RunRun!¡± The [Swak] screams out¡ªthe single word, or rather drive to survive, resonates outward.

    ¡°No escape,¡± is my blunt reply. This time I grab it by its head and slam it on the desert ground.

    Black points for eyes dart around until they fix on me.¡°RunRun!¡± it continues to scream.

    Why do I get the feeling it¡¯s telling me to run?

    Before I can rip its head off, the dune we climbed bursts into a cloud of sand. A wave rushes our way, and I tighten my grip on the [Swak] even as it sees this as an opportunity to begin its attack on me. Three large Demons stumble through the wave, snapping, clawing, and slashing at one another, but that isn¡¯t my concern now.

    The wave abates and I turn my full attention to the [Swak] trying to liquify my arm with the acid leaking out of its holes. I place a foot on its neck and rip it off with my one working hand.

    Like with the Lizardfolk, it still lives, but with its head gone I¡¯ve exposed the Crystal seated underneath. An alluring crimson color beckons to me and I answer, ripping the Crystal out and stuffing it into the desert cloak¡¯s single pocket.

    As the [Swak] turns lifeless, I shift my gaze to what caused the dune explosion¡ªit¡¯s hard to miss the three large Demons going at it.

    I recognize one of them, [Adar]. I faced this very same Demon as well as two others months ago and barely came out alive. This [Adar] is much like the last with few exceptions.

    Unlike the last Demon I encountered, it has two long horns sticking out of its head. The carapace shielding has cracks in some areas and is oozing out fluid but otherwise sits firm. The Demon crawls on eight legs and its back cracks open, revealing the same pair of thin, buzzing wings the last had.

    Not much is different aside from the extra horn and the shinier carapace, but it¡¯s at least twice as large as the last one. Which makes facing it ill-advised.

    Much less the other two Demons it¡¯s squaring off with. The large Beasts posture and corner each other. The two have a pair of grasping pincers and scuttle across the sand on eight legs. Each has a long, narrow, segmented tail that carries forward in a curve over the back, ending in a terrifying stinger.

    The two are the same Demon type, [Bichu].

    Looks like a giant scorpion to me.

    Smug critique aside, I can tell I¡¯m out of my league here, so my first action is to grab ahold of the [Swak] corpse and drag it away from the fight between the three Demons. Once I¡¯m at a safe distance, on top of the dune where I spotted the [Swak], I rip off a limb and start eating.

    The fresher the meat, the better my regeneration. As I munch the rather chewy, fat and oily arm of the [Swak], I watch the three Demons duke it out. The remainder of my arm grows slightly with the meal, and I¡¯m a bit tempted to take out the Crystal sitting in my pocket and absorb it.

    It¡¯ll definitely get me the rest of my missing limb, bring me back to full strength, and perhaps even help me level up. But Gerim¡¯s orders echo in the back of my head.

    Growling, discontent, I pull out another arm and consume it. The battle between the three massive Demons seems to be shifting toward the [Bichu] Demons. I should¡¯ve expected that they¡¯d team up to take the [Adar] down.

    But the [Adar] is no slouch¡ªit has air superiority and takes advantage of it, leaping into the air whenever it¡¯s in danger. For a moment I fear the [Adar] will escape defeat, but I only chuckle.

    If it does escape, I can follow it and finish it off wherever it lands.

    With a wide swipe of its stinger, one [Bichu] pokes and rips a hole in the [Adar¡¯s] carapace, forcing it to land. The poor horned Demon lets out a screech and retaliates with a mad charge that pierces the offending [Bichu].

    ¡°Finally.¡±

    The second [Bichu] sends its stinger down at the [Adar], comboing that attack with multiple ruthless chomps from its pincers.

    It¡¯s at this point I step off the dune and make for the battle. Fueling my entire body with Essence, I ready myself to use the single true offensive ability I have.

    Shapeshifting. Or, as the stat sheet calls it, [Faithless Mimicry].

 Step 3- Gather Resources (P3)

    [Faithless Mimicry]

    The only other ability I have other than [Faithless Absorption]. It¡¯s an ability I¡¯m only beginning to understand. With the attacks I face in the city I¡¯ve had Demons to test out my theories on.

    At first I thought it relied on fear because I mirrored whatever did the most damage, whatever I was most afraid of. But I know better now. In both cases where I took the form of a predator, I had a sliver of their Essence and even some piece of them within me.

    With the tusked Demon, I¡¯d bitten into its boil, drank its blood and fluids, and absorbed its Essence. Not a moment later I regenerated and killed a Lizardfolk Demon with claws and fangs like those of the tusked Demon.

    And when I got ambushed, the [Inurri] stung and pumped its venom into my shoulder, a shoulder I later transformed into a copy of the very stinger that pierced it.

    Through trial and error during my battles within the city, I¡¯ve proven that all I need to make [Faithless Mimicry] work is a piece of the Demon I want to mimic.

    The [Adar] still lives, even after the brutality it¡¯s been through. Its two long horns impale one [Bichu], but the other is free and undamaged. This one takes advantage of the awkward position its kinsman and prey are in.

    My feet spring me across the desert sands and Essence floods my entire body, enhancing every inch of me. But my incomplete limb is the one I give the most attention to.

    Pulling on the oily, sick sensation of the [Swak¡¯s] flesh, I transform my stumped arm into a version of its limb. This transformation is one I¡¯ve been undergoing since I paused to eat it.

    Another thing I¡¯ve learned about [Faithless Mimicry]¡ªthe more attention and thought I give to the transformation, the likelier I am to achieve an accurate copy. Sometimes even better than the original.

    As I sprint across the desert to the battle, my stumped left arm begins to stretch and break. The skin on it loses its dark tone, turning pale and sickly. Pores widen to the point I could fit a finger in it and spread across the arm in dozens. These pores immediately begin leaking out oils and acid. Finally, a small hand forms at the end of the arm. Far smaller than my usual arm, but it¡¯s clawed, filled with holes leaking out oil and acid.

    I¡¯ve got a weapon.

    Such a transformation has a cost on Essence. The drain on the Crystal is hard to miss and I¡¯d weep at the expense if it weren¡¯t for its use.

    Got to spend Essence to make Essence.

    Ahead of me are the three tussling Demons, although one is dead as a doornail, impaled through its head and dragged around as the [Adar] struggles to free its horns from its flesh and confront the last [Bichu].

    But there¡¯s no hope for that¡ªit will die at the [Bichu¡¯s] pincers before it can set itself free and retaliate.

    Up close these Demons stand several feet taller than I do and are as long and wide as a vehicle. It¡¯s intimidating sprinting up to the [Bichu], but it¡¯s far too busy gnawing at the trapped [Adar] to notice me slip underneath its dead kinsman.

    Underneath the dead Demon¡¯s belly is hard, calloused armor. The allure of a beating [Soul Crystal] tells me there¡¯s some life left within it, Essence waiting within.

    With the [Adar] struggling and dragging the corpse around with its horn it¡¯s difficult trying not to get trampled, but with my [Swak] left arm I have little to worry about.

    I thrust the clawed arm out at the dead Demon¡¯s belly, and the claws manage a dent. Fortunately, acid leaks out of it and starts eating at the little dents in the armor.

    The tussling Demons screech. The [Adar] seems to detect my presence and in a fit of self-preservation and spite tosses itself onto its back, taking away my prize and revealing my presence to the strong [Bichu].

    The large eyes sitting on either side of its head find me and I know I have to make this quick. Without pausing to think about it, I flood my left arm with Essence, building up acid and oil and directing the majority to a single pore in the middle of my palm.

    I take aim and spurt a geyser of acid into its eyes right as it starts snapping its pincers in my direction. A quick jump saves me from its grapple, but I may as well have launched myself into its second strike as it stabs me through the chest with its stinger.

    Fuck!

    I put my left arm to work immediately, smearing acid all over the stinger even as the [Bichu] thrashes about in pain from the acid in its eyes, waving me in the air with it until it slings me off its stinger and into a pile of sand.

    Choking on my own blood, my eyes widen at the gaping hole in my chest. Without any lungs breathing is impossible, but even worse is the sight of the [Adar] finally setting itself free, pulling its horns out of the dead [Bichu].

    My gaping wound pulls and drags on my Essence, begging me to sacrifice all the power I¡¯ve stored up to recover the flesh I¡¯ve lost.

    I refuse.

    Still choking and gurgling on my own thick blood, I pull myself up and section off Essence from the injury.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    If Demons can survive without their heads, then...

    The [Adar], although free, has trouble getting back on its feet, and the [Bichu] still reels from the acid I sprayed in its eyes.

    I can still do this.

    Not wasting my time trying to carve out a prize with two Demons still lingering around, I dash straight at the tipped [Adar]. Crash landing on its filthy stomach, I finish the job. My left arm rips into its rather soft underbelly, pulling out chunks of chitinous armor and filling its insides with acid.

    The [Adar] has little choice but to give into the sweet savor of death. I move on from its stomach once I know it¡¯s dead, the allure of a [Soul Crystal] coming from its head. Ripping it off isn¡¯t easy¡ªthe [Bichu] begins to recover from my acid but its stinger hangs weakly off a single sinew of flesh, useless.

    However, its pincers still work. It starts at me as the [Adar¡¯s] tough neck begins to loosen. Its speed isn¡¯t at all what I expect from something its size, and it smacks me aside before I can tear off the [Adar¡¯s] head.

    My body tumbles through the sand, my entire left side broken from the attack. Whatever ribs I had left shatter and poke at my skin and insides in odd directions. My left shoulder is broken again, coupled with my missing lungs, and I¡¯m already half dead.

    This is not how I saw this going.

    Groaning in silent pain and agony, I have little strength to lift myself up. In the end, I have to sacrifice some precious Essence to help ease the pain and push back some of my broken bones before I can pull myself up.

    The [Bichu] continues hissing, snapping its pincers at me but not pursuing. Instead, it turns around and faces the [Adar¡¯s] slowly melting corpse. The acid I pumped into its body is doing an amazing job of liquefying everything in its path.

    All that remains of it is its head, some parts of its torso, and its sides. The [Bichu] goes for the head, snapping it off with ease¡ªsomething it can attribute to me loosening the head.

    Anger fuels me as yet again my reward is stolen. Fuming, I set sights on the still corpse of the first [Bichu]. It lies on its back, the [Soul Crystal] thrumming and humming within its guarded stomach.

    Without a second thought, I make another desperate sprint for it. Everything hurts but I¡¯m still alive, and I can still survive this hell for years to come!

    The [Bichu] flinches at my approach and nearly drops the decapitated head in its pincers as it struggles between continuing the consumption of the head and Crystal or reacting to me.

    It chooses the Crystal. As would I.

    I launch myself atop the [Bichu] corpse and immediately start punching at the center. It takes one¡­ two¡­ three¡­ four Essence-fueled attacks to break through the surface and burst my arm into the fleshy insides of the dead [Bichu]. My fists and knuckles ache, nearly broken instead of the creature¡¯s body.

    But I fall flat on my stomach and reach deep into the [Bichu¡¯s] body, pushing and melting its flesh until my hand clasps the hot [Soul Crystal] at the center. I¡¯d sigh a breath of relief if I had lungs.

    Bursting it out of the [Bichu], I grin at its bright, hot, crimson glow. It¡¯s a lot stronger than the one that powers me.

    [Crimson Soul Crystal]- Lvl.6(5esq)

    [Absorb] [Destroy]

    I have to stop myself from immediately absorbing the Crystal and remind myself of Gerim¡¯s rule, No absorbing until we get back.

    Gritting my teeth, I stand and turn, tucking it into my pocket just in time to find the [Bichu] doing exactly the opposite.

    A bright crimson glow envelopes its entire head. As the bright light continues to grow I squint, watching as its stinger regenerates and a second sprouts out of its behind.

    Fucking¡­ two?

    It starts to grow, fattening in the heavy cloud of Essence it¡¯s absorbing. The crimson begins to darken, taking on a deep, fleshy color. Blood Orange.

    Fuck. I need to¡ª

    The Beast screeches before I can complete the thought. Now almost twice the size and length it was before, it bounds toward me, all six legs carrying it across the desert at speeds I can¡¯t surpass even with the head start.

    Even with Essence pumping through my calves, it¡¯s difficult to escape. The [Bichu¡¯s] new stinger has a brand-new feature too, spurting out venom at me from behind, aiming to douse me in the fluid and halt my escape.

    Fuckfuckfuckfuck!

    Switching to a zigzag pattern is the best I can do, but I know it¡¯ll catch up and make a second meal of me. Before it does though, I catch sight of a blurry object in the distance, another Demon by the looks of it. Tall and lanky with four arms.

    It crouches atop the dune it sits on and leaps, taking a great bound from the distance, whistling through the air until it plummets down behind me. A cloud of sand bursts out as it lands, sending out sharp, crystallized projectiles that cut into me and my desert cloak.

    The hissing and screeching of the [Bichu] is silenced for a moment. I bring my run to a halt and turn to look.

    There¡¯s a steaming crater in the desert. Marveling at it for a moment, I startle when the angry screeching and hissing of the [Bichu] returns. Pounding and roaring continue as the [Bichu] rages within, struggling with whatever descended upon it. I catch myself leaning over the crater for a closer look before returning to my senses.

    Whatever¡¯s eating it probably wants to eat me too.

    Ignoring the noises of the [Bichu] being devoured, I resume my escape and start to panic. I¡¯m beyond damaged with a heavily broken left side and a gaping hole in my chest.

    How am I more injured than when I came? I hate this place.

    I¡¯m starting to see why Demons abide by Calridian¡¯s rules¡ªthe open world is far too ruthless. It¡¯s lawless, with no protection and no intelligence other than dog eat dog. To survive in a place like this, you¡¯d need a safe haven.

    But what will Calridian do when he hears I¡¯ve failed? Returned with only one Crystal rather than the four he demanded.

    Cursing my luck, I continue to run toward the hub of power that is his city. Essence floods my ears as I move, keeping my senses sharp for whatever ma¡ªI strafe to the side, narrowly avoiding the projectile whistling past. A long, brown, javelin-like object embeds itself in the sands ahead and I curse my luck.

    Of course¡­ why did I think this was over?

    I turn and fuel my left arm, readying it with acid. But it seems unnecessary.

    The approaching four-armed figure raises two arms in a universal sign of surrender and peace.

    ¡°Not any closer!¡± I scream out telepathically, and the figure halts its approach.

    It folds its arms and the peaceful psychic energy turns vile and hateful, ¡°How rude of you, little one. I just saved your life, didn¡¯t I? This is why I hate Gerim¡¯s rules, unappreciative fools all around.¡±

    At the mention of Gerim, I realize who this is and relax. ¡°Hargoil. I didn¡¯t know¡ª¡±

    He grunts, walks toward me, and instantly smacks me over the head. ¡°Useless. Facing three giant Demons at your weak level¡­ it¡¯s no surprise you ended up like this. Blind and hostile.¡±

    Before I can comment on that, Hargoil hands me a gleaming Blood Orange [Soul Crystal].

    ¡°W-what? Why are you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Because we¡¯re all going to meet Calridian when we get back. If you get a chance to speak, comment on how I¡¯ve saved your life today and I¡¯ll consider showing you new ways to get stronger.¡±

    He stalks off without elaborating any further, leaving me gaping at the hot Blood Orange Crystal.

    [Blood Orange Soul Crystal]- Lvl.1(13esq)

    [Absorb] [Destroy]

    ¡°This counts as two, right?¡±

 Interlude: Gerim

    Slithering through the sand, a long, thin Demon seeks a getaway. Hoping to abscond into the scattering sandstorm.

    Four spike quills, longer than its head, impale the ground ahead of it. It turns and four more strike out. It dashes to the side and yet again the quills find it. Before long the leathery lizard is trapped, hissing with spite at the bars.

    It climbs onto its stomach. A bulge surges through to its throat, into the mouth, and out as a sizzling ball of bile. It summons another bulge from within, releasing one¡­ two¡­ three more bile balls in the same direction.

    It starts to summon a fourth but its stomach bursts open, spilling the contents outward as three more quills find their way through its center.

    Sputtering, growling in agony, radiating streams of crimson leak from its neck. It pulls on the flesh on either side of the spilt, stitching and fusing them back together.

    A broad figure shuffles through the sand, approaching the dying Demon. Fat pawed hands hang by its side, a cloak billows, and long, thick spines of quills rise from its back.

    Mists snake around the bounding Demon, a rich red shade of Blood Orange that seeps through the pores of the Demon¡¯s hand. It twitches and a thin, long quill snaps out of a single of its four wide digits.

    Driving the quill through the dying Demon¡¯s exposed wound, Gerim dislodges the dying [Soul Crystal] within the Demon, popping it through its mouth. He snatches the Crystal out of the air and wipes off the flesh clinging to it.

    He snorts and grunts as he examines the Crystal with a critical eye. Another disappointment. The Crystal might as well be a Pink that¡¯s only blossomed to Crimson.

    Clutching the rather worthless Crystal, he spits and stuffs it back in with the others. He rips the Demon it belongs to out of his quills by the neck. It¡¯s a long one too, filled with scales and sharp eyes.

    With a wide chomp, Gerim snaps off the head, munching on it as he hauls the rest back to the pile.

    As he trudges through the sand Gerim¡¯s cloak pocket jingles with each step. It¡¯s the illusion of wealth, but in truth the contents will only amount to as much Essence as a level-three Crimson Crystal would provide.

    And that¡¯s before Calridian¡¯s share.

    Gerim snarls at the thought of the Demon; his insides bubble and Essence begins leaking into his furious steps. As he begins sinking into the sand with each heavy step, Gerim pulls his irritation to the back of his mind and repeats a mantra.

    ¡°Safe steps. Sure steps. Right steps.¡±

    Gerim didn¡¯t fill his pockets with Essence only worth as much as the Human look-alike. Gerim is very deliberate about following the mantra. It¡¯s kept him alive, right from the Crimson days where Calridian and he hunted for the strength they have now.

    Except, of course, Calridian grew far more powerful. And now he¡¯s used that power to force servitude.

    Gerim grunts and grumbles under his breath, dragging the Demon¡¯s corpse across the sand harder and lower than needed.

    ¡°Never. Not again.¡±

    Gerim learned his lesson about a half-century ago¡ªcooperating with any other Demon for power isn¡¯t worth it. Calridian taught him that.

    ¡°Ruling together. Yeah right.¡±

    As he continues grumbling, his footfalls become heavy and he starts sinking again. He reigns in the bubbling anger and continues his march through the storm, on the look for any spares to slay on the way back.

    Of course, by now the lesser Demons Gerim hunts would be frightened by his presence alone. The inverse is true for larger, stronger Demons like himself. Demons capable of challenging him.

    He grunts, quickening his pace at the thought of getting dragged into a fight with a Demon like that. Losing Essence to regenerate wounds and keep up the struggle is rarely ever worth it. The Essence lost on each side is only ever enough to bring reserves back to normal or tip it over the edge a bit.

    Calridian would argue otherwise¡ªhe has argued otherwise. But he¡¯s never had to fight again, not since turning Maroon. And now he uses the power of his [Spells] and Essence to get everyone else to fight for him.

    Gerim¡¯s next step swallows his foot, sand reaching up to his thick knee. He growls, fuming at the desert.

    ¡°Damn, Calridian¡­ stay in the desert.¡±

    This time he waits a moment. Foot still stuck in the sand, he huffs and puffs heavy breaths. Pulling on his hood, he braves the nuisance storm and brings calmer thoughts over the ones telling him to gather as many allies and attempt a coup.

    ¡°Impossible. I let him get too strong.¡± His admittance brings another flood of anger. Working with Calridian, he could¡¯ve grown just as strong, to Maroon and more even. But¡ª

    ¡°Safe steps. Sure steps. Right steps.¡±

    He breaks his foot out and loosens his grip on the Demon corpse he¡¯s been hauling, repeating the internal mantra as many times as necessary. It¡¯s right, and his growing anger will only bring him danger and unaffordable risks.

    Not for the first time, Gerim is thankful he grew intelligent enough to see the truth of Reais. Whether it be this layer or the next or even the other Realms. For an immortal, it¡¯s best to bide your time and play it safe.

    No use stepping on toes or bringing unwanted attention to yourself. That¡¯s why for all the time he¡¯s spent serving the Demon he was once partners with, Calridian still hasn¡¯t noticed his spite.

    ¡°Or maybe¡­¡± Gerim shakes the thought away, anticipating it¡¯d only lead to more paranoia. Rather than be paranoid, it was much better to see the end of all things. ¡°Soon¡­ a hundred, maybe more, but soon.¡±

    To Gerim, Calridian may as well be a parallel self. The Demon he could¡¯ve been if only he were power-hungry, impatient, or as driven as Calridian preaches.

    But power gotten in haste is taken away just as quickly. Calridian will fall, it¡¯s only a matter of time, time Gerim has in abundance.

    ¡°Safe steps. Sure steps. Right steps,¡± Gerim repeats out loud, approaching the tall dune in front of the city. The rendezvous spot for his squad.

    There are two figures seated at the top, taking bites out of the pile of Demon corpses next to them. Coming closer, Gerim finds Hargoil¡¯s little followers, the mini versions of himself he¡¯s whipped into submission.

    The duo never talks. They did once, in the beginning when the three were assigned to his squad. Hargoil started at the same level they did, and yet¡­

    ¡°Where is he?¡±

    The two shift their heads to the side, facing an area free of the storm. It¡¯s dark out with little visibility now, but Gerim¡¯s eyes quickly make out the remainder of his squad.

    He grunts and tosses the Demon¡¯s corpse onto the pile as he sits down to wait. Before long they make their approach, although both of them seem to return empty-handed.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Gerim snarls and demands, ¡°Where¡¯s your score?¡±

    Hargoil doesn¡¯t bother acknowledging the question, heading straight for the assembled pile of corpses to rip off a limb and devour it. The orifice he and the other two consume out of is small, guarded by the trails of hardened carapace forming armor around their faces. But it doesn¡¯t stop him from shredding the fat limb into bits.

    Gerim keeps his attention on the other, the one he still hasn¡¯t figured out a name for. It called itself ¡°Nil¡± to Calridian, but that¡¯s not a name.

    ¡°You have a hole in you,¡± Gerim points out, cutting the Human look-alike short in its explanation. ¡°These cloaks have more value than you do.¡± Growling, he reaches over and pulls the cloak right off of it.

    ¡°Hey! My Crystals are in there!¡± it screams, grasping the hem of the cloak, but Gerim tugs it out of his grip.

    ¡°Crystals?¡± Gerim hums, staring back at Hargoil as he rifles through the cloak¡¯s pockets. Hargoil doesn¡¯t react, halfway done consuming the foot he ripped off. But true to its word, there are Crystals in the cloak¡¯s pockets.

    Gerim takes them out and tosses the cloak back at it, staring down at the three Crystals in hand. He begins to chuckle. ¡°One weak Crimson, another at reasonable strength, and a Blood Orange.¡±

    Gerim¡¯s laughter heaves into a roar. He glances back at Hargoil, who still gives no reaction, and laughs some more.

    ¡°Very well.¡± Gerim tosses the Crystals back to it, his eyes studying the Human look-alike properly. With the hole in its chest, the white, short arm leaking oil, and the bare crotch, it doesn¡¯t look very Human.

    Watching it scramble for its fallen Crystals, one arm looking nothing like the other, Gerim¡¯s mirth dissolves into concern.

    Gerim brought this Human look-alike to Calridian as a gift. Humans are rare, live ones even more so. Their souls would reap brilliant power if the right [Spells] are cast, [Spells] Calridian has. Not to mention how delicious they taste.

    But if this isn¡¯t a Human, if this is a Demon, then what use would Calridian have of it? Better yet, what use could Gerim have of it? Hargoil has already begun taming the creature¡ªit¡¯s impossible that it took down a Blood Orange Demon all by itself.

    Gerim seethes at his lack of answers, the secrecy, the plotting. He¡¯s being left behind once more. He slaps the unfinished limb out of Hargoil¡¯s mouth and growls, ¡°Enough eating, we have to get back.¡±

    Hargoil looks like he wants to do otherwise. Jumping to his full height, he looks down at Gerim. His followers fall silent behind him, waiting for a move. But none comes.

    For all his rage, Hargoil is no idiot.

    He steps aside and Gerim leads the way. ¡°You, come here,¡± Gerim calls for the Human look-alike. It jogs its way over to his side and opens its mind, something it previously couldn¡¯t do. It¡¯s learning how to communicate faster than most Demons.

    ¡°You still only have three Crystals, is the last one yours?¡± Gerim asks with a wide grin, his sharp teeth and back quills twitching at the excitement.

    It shivers¡ªthe thought of having its Crystal ripped out unnerves it, as it would anyone else. It shakes its head and looks up to Gerim, pleading. ¡°I was hoping the Blood Orange would count as two. Does it?¡±

    Reaching out with telepathy, Gerim can sense its hesitation to keep walking toward the city. He loses the grin and nods. ¡°It¡¯s only worth two if you got it by yourself. Did you?¡±

    The answer is clear; it can barely hide the truth from Gerim, much less Calridian. Its thin, chapped lips press together and its single Human fist balls up. ¡°Yes, I did. I got it all by myself, but someone interrupted the fight.¡±

    Gerim suppresses a chuckle at the mental gymnastics but smiles nonetheless. ¡°Right, you would¡¯ve gotten it and more if you weren¡¯t intruded on. You didn¡¯t ask anyone for help. You were on your own, weren¡¯t you?¡±

    The psychic truth becomes smeared with each of these, but it nods, agreeing wholeheartedly with Gerim as the squad walks into the city.

    Hargoil walks in between, shoving the Human look-alike to the side to grab hold of Gerim¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t forget,¡± Hargoil says.

    Gerim pauses for a moment, staring at him without uttering a word. Hargoil nods, lets go of his shoulder, and steps back.

    ¡°Wait out here, all of you. I¡¯ll call you in if Calridian wishes to meet with you.¡±

    Gerim starts off inside, his cloak still jingling as he walks through the many rooms and chambers housing Calridian¡¯s most trusted and strongest Demons. Only a few still greet him these days, many of them thinking they¡¯ve surpassed Calridian¡¯s right hand because their Blood Orange Crystals shine a little brighter than his. Gerim grunts in response to the half-hearted greetings. He¡¯s no idiot either, he knows many of the Demons around him have begun to see him as weak, up for grabs even.

    But the fools are only so brave to think it. Never to act on it.

    Gerim is let through to Calridian¡¯s lair. He stands at the stairs and finds the large coil of a Demon still going at it, flipping through scrolls and manipulating mana and Essence for spellcasting.

    ¡°Calridian, I¡¯ve returned.¡±

    Calridian and the little Demon servants cleaning and organizing his ever-expanding mess don¡¯t stop at Gerim¡¯s announcement. Calridian twirls through scroll after scroll, lifting them up to his beetled head. Under his breath, he repeats some chant and the room trembles. The pillars rattle and cracks under the pressure of his rising mana.

    Three Blood Orange Crystals rise off the long pile of [Soul Crystals] and hover in the air in front of Calridian. A crackle of red light streaks through the Crystals, connecting each of them to the other and to Calridian.

    The trembling continues as the streaks draw the Crystals closer to each other. A pillar top crashes to the ground and the little Demons race around, setting things right where they can.

    Gerim walks down the steps, eyes narrowed at the spellwork. The crackling bits of red lightning snap at everything moving. One snakes toward Gerim, but he doesn¡¯t move.

    The bolt strikes through his tough skin, digging through his hardened skin like paper and smiting the Blood Orange Crystal within. Gerim gasps and chokes, suddenly fueled by the power leaking out of Calridian¡¯s spellwork.

    The throbbing power in two of the Crystals streams into the one at the center until all that¡¯s left are transparent shells that fall and shatter against the ground.

    Gerim, recovering from the invigorating infusion of power, finds Calridian marveling at his success. His long stratified body coils up and crashes into a pile of books, scrolls, and weapons. The bright Crystal hovering before him is somewhere between Blood Orange and a slight pinch of Maroon.

    ¡°You¡¯ve done it,¡± Gerim laughs. ¡°You¡¯ve figured it out¡­ how?¡±

    Calridian groans, lifting himself off the pile. He sets the throbbing Crystal on the table. ¡°I haven¡¯t figured anything out¡­ it¡¯s still very unstable and so much Essence is lost during casting.¡± His thin, beady beetle eyes narrow at Gerim. ¡°You may not realize it now, but in making this Crystal I¡¯ve lost one with as much worth as yourself, Gerim.¡±

    Gerim reels at this, but it doesn¡¯t shock him long. The weight of Essence, the trembling, the cracks of lightning¡ªit makes sense.

    ¡°Still, you¡¯re well on your way to the next level. You¡¯ll be able to challenge Demon Lords. This city won¡¯t simply be another bit of territory in the name of¡ª¡±

    ¡°Silence, you!¡± Calridian scolds. Hissing venom and radiating as much power as before, he fumes. ¡°I said I lost a Crystal of your worth performing that spell. Do you have any idea how long it¡¯s taken me to gather and fuse those Crystals into a single Blood Orange to begin another attempt?

    ¡°The process takes decades! Decades! And that vile Queen is on my hide every day! This failure of a spell is something I can¡¯t afford to use: the Essence it loses isn¡¯t worth it! I need the Demon Lord¡¯s perfected version, or at least the information to imitate it.

    ¡°And I need it quick, Gerim. The Queen isn¡¯t the only one hounding me. The Demon Lord too, he and his feckless followers warring with the other Lords. So I can¡¯t begin to break down how much I need you to keep your mouth shut about this.¡±

    Gerim nods mutely, not having much else to say lest he gets murdered.

    ¡°Good. Now, what have you come for?¡±

    Gerim straightens up, ignoring the stares from the silent worker Demons in the background. ¡°My squad. I¡¯ve tested the Huma¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re well aware that is no Human, or are you an idiot now, Gerim?¡±

    Clearing his throat, he corrects the slip-up. ¡°Yes, of course, the new Demon you¡¯ve assigned to me¡­ Nil, it¡¯s done as you asked.¡±

    At this, Calridian¡¯s torso rises an inch higher. ¡°It has?¡±

    ¡°In a manner of speaking. It managed to retrieve a Blood Orange Crystal, a brand-new one with barely any power lost, as well as two other Crimson Crystals.¡±

    Calridian snorts. ¡°Then it didn¡¯t do as I asked, did it? I asked for four Crystals, not three. Simple instructions are so hard to follow with the lesser ones.¡± He mutters the last part without care, but Gerim feels the built indignation within him stir.

    Lesser ones. Something he would¡¯ve been defined by a few centuries ago too. But Gerim doesn¡¯t dare point this out, because merely thin¡ª

    ¡°Are you¡­ upset?¡±

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Gerim curses.

    Calridian¡¯s frown deepens; his dark beady eyes light up in flames and he curls around Gerim, his centipede-like lower body entrapping the quilled-back Demon.

    Gerim doesn¡¯t move. He doesn¡¯t think of anything else aside from his continued existence. His poor telepathy and uncontrolled emotions landed him here, but he can¡¯t seal his fate now.

    Although humbled, he dares to mention, ¡°It is hurt and fears you already. I know you have a use for it.¡± Gerim gulps. ¡°I can keep it that way. I won¡¯t fail, not like I did with Hargoil.¡±

    ¡°Hargoil¡­¡± Calridian snarls. ¡°That one¡­ my deep regret spawning it. So bold and capable¡­ a challenger. But nothing like you, Gerim. If you can keep this deviant Demon tamed, subservient as you are to me, I wouldn¡¯t be opposed to rewarding you.¡±

    Reward?

    It¡¯s the last thing Gerim expected from Calridian. What worth is Nil to him? Enough that he¡¯d reward Gerim?

    ¡°It would be an honor,¡± Gerim says, ¡°I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡±

    ¡°Good. It needs to be much stronger than it is now for my needs, take care of that.¡±

    ¡°And Hargoil? He¡¯s demanding an audience with you. He doubts my word that you rejected his request to break off.¡±

    Calridian snarls, disgusted, ¡°Beat him. Take your tax and bring mine. This is how you chain a Beast, Gerim.¡±

    For once, something Calridian says doesn¡¯t grate on Gerim¡¯s nerves.

 Step 4- Special Parts

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 5years, 4months.

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.3¡ª 96.9esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 17

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 15

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 7]

    Traits: [Calloused Exterior]- Lvl.2, [Telepathy]- Lvl.3

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: Nil

    Patron: Nil

    <hr>

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.3¡ª 96.9esq

    The Crystals I absorbed from the hunt only took me a level higher, a disappointment since I thought taking a Blood Orange meant I¡¯d become one. Couldn¡¯t be farther from the truth. Besides, I should have known that when Hargoil handed it over to me¡ªhe¡¯s a Crimson just like I am, but a hint stronger with the experience to back it up.

    A lot of Essence was immediately consumed to fix my body. Closing the wound in my center, restoring my arm, and taking care of all the bruises and broken parts I¡¯d been running around with took a while, but I¡¯m back at full health with a stronger, faster body.

    Absorbing the Blood Orange did more than take me off the edge of death, it strengthened my body in more ways than one. With enough Essence points to spare, I increased my strength and gave my wisdom a little boost, enough that I immediately began to sense the world in a new way.

    Thin threads wave through the atmosphere, mixed in with the Essence the [Soul Crystal] absorbs. I¡¯ve been picking at them. The reaction so far is tame¡ªnot much happens when I successfully get one in my grip. I get more of a reaction from the pool of mana I found within my [Soul Crystal], mixed in yet separate from Essence and esq.

    It¡¯s not too unlike Essence, wholly unfamiliar and largely unquantifiable, but I can sense there¡¯s a connection between how the two exist. My control over Essence comes rather naturally, but with mana¡­

    ¡°Aargh!¡± I growl, eyes flying open as my delicate hold on it slips for the thousandth time.

    Sometimes it¡¯s an oily pool and I have to pull on the thin film covering it. I can sense it bulge within me, answering my call, albeit sluggishly. And then it loses form, becoming hard and thick or even more slippery.

    Grinding my teeth, I break yet another of the rocks beside me. Gerim¡¯s been keeping me in an igloo-shaped rock house on the far side of the city. I call it a house only for my comfort. In truth, all it is a narrow space with a hole in the ceiling letting light in.

    I have only my privacy and the rocks I gathered for training. The rocks serve as targets for destruction when I¡¯m pissed at how little progress I¡¯ve made over five years, but also when I practice shapeshifting.

    There¡¯s a delicate balancing act that needs to be done every time I shapeshift into something that isn¡¯t a usual part of my body. A fat, muscled arm can tip me over and a light stinger can throw off my aim.

    The past year hasn¡¯t been very entertaining. I¡¯d thought Calridian would allow lax movement in and out of his city if it meant he got his piece of Essence. But according to Gerim, I haven¡¯t been around long enough to be trusted to leave and return.

    It¡¯s a sentiment I understand. Calridian can¡¯t have someone getting bigger than him under his canopy. But the length of time I need to wait and work for the giant Demon I haven¡¯t laid eyes on since doesn¡¯t seem worth it.

    I could be much stronger than this within a decade. All it takes is one or three good hunts.

    But even one unpermitted hunt results in being barred entry, and as I¡¯ve seen, even hunted by the very group you work with. Gerim¡¯s warnings were as sinister as ever, the double meaning hidden behind his dark eyes and grin.

    I know he wants to eat me.

    Still, he¡¯s good to work with. He¡¯s gotten me this little hovel at the far side of the city which, for some reason, no one comes close to. I understand he did so because he wants to avoid me getting killed in a brawl¡ªit¡¯s something I¡¯m coming to appreciate and loathe. If dumb Demons don¡¯t see me, then how else am I going to get Crystals?This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°There are a number of ways.¡±

    My head whips to the side, and I scramble to my feet at Hargoil¡¯s sudden appearance. The tall beetle Demon lets off a disturbing version of a smile on his damaged face. There are still lines cracking through his center from where Gerim pounded him into the ground.

    The first thing Gerim did that day after the hunt was pound Hargoil into the ground. I doubt anyone saw it coming¡ªnot me, not Hargoil, not the silent twins that follow him around. I¡¯ve seen Hargoil around from time to time hanging around Gerim when he visits to ¡°mentor¡± me on training, or rather just check if I¡¯m still alive. His wounds healed faster than mine even though he didn¡¯t absorb the Blood Orange, and I figure it¡¯s because he¡¯s some levels ahead of me as a Crimson.

    He¡¯s still hurt. Some parts of him tell the story of the beating clear as day, like his broken and chipped carapace, but it¡¯s not as bad as it was. His thin mouth crunches on a bony finger¡ªthere¡¯s so much blood on it I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s Human or Demon. He struts into my hovel, tucking his head down so it doesn¡¯t scrape against the low roof.

    ¡°I can show you how to get Essence and magic.¡± His psychic aura and posturing boast confidence in his words. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t come to me all this time, I thought you¡¯d have the common sense to see I¡¯m the only one willing to help you.¡±

    Since gaining [Telepathy]- Lvl.3 I¡¯ve become more adept at hiding my surface and subsurface thoughts, but it doesn¡¯t mean anything in the face of someone like Hargoil or Gerim, intelligent Demons who are certainly higher level than I am.

    Hargoil, peering at the surface of my thoughts, feeds his confidence. ¡°You¡¯re grateful for the Orange, aren¡¯t you? Felt nice, the first Orange always is. Personally, I can¡¯t wait for my first Maroon.¡± He chortles.

    As he kicks aside some of my rocks, he hums and I take the chance to ask the question he¡¯s likely already heard. ¡°What are you talking about? How else can I get Crystals?¡±

    He chitters, his mouth cracking open to tut, and he shudders as he wags his finger. ¡°Not Crystals, Essence. There¡¯s a difference, isn¡¯t there?¡±

    I blink, ¡°Uh¡­ I think so?¡±

    The twisted look on his face turns distraught. ¡°There is,¡± he says firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you all about the difference and how to get both later, but for now we have a mission. It¡¯s why I¡¯m here. Gerim sent me.¡± He punctuates Gerim¡¯s name with a thick coat of loathing and steps out of my hovel, standing at full height outside.

    It¡¯s a sunnier day out in the open; the miracle light that illuminates the Desert Divide warms me as I question and follow after Hargoil, ¡°What¡¯s the mission? Did Calridi-¡±

    ¡°Shush!¡± Hargoil hisses, fists balled and Essence leaking as he fumes. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to me about Calridian,¡± he sneers.

    Not one to look for trouble, I nod. ¡°Right, not happening again.¡±

    He huffs and struts off into the main city and we leave my hovel behind. ¡°Calridian thinks he¡¯s better than us just because he¡¯s Maroon and we¡¯re not.¡± He scoffs, his long strides getting longer, forcing me to pick up the pace. ¡°I¡¯m not too far from Orange, I can feel it. I¡¯ve accomplished just as much as any of the new captains too, I deserve my own squad!¡±

    I¡¯m not sure what to think or even how to react. The politics of the Demon squads Calridian employs to do his bidding and their captains aren¡¯t something I¡¯ve bothered looking into.

    ¡°Uh¡­ yes, I¡¯m sure you do,¡± I end up agreeing.

    Hargoil snorts. ¡°It won¡¯t matter much, once the Demon Lord shifts his eyes here.¡±

    That catches my ear. ¡°The Demon Lord? What do you know about him?¡±

    The Demon Lord is the Demon sitting above even Calridian, the one in charge of several other Maroon-level Demons and leading a war against the other two Lords of the Divides. Since coming to Reais I haven¡¯t heard anything tangible about the Demon Lord, only that he¡¯s far superior to Calridian and the house-sized Demons I met at the line.

    All that I¡¯ve overheard from leaking thoughts and conversations is that he could be a she. Many of the insect Demons running around believe the Demon Lord is some sort of hive queen that birthed them all.

    That only brings me to wonder whether Demons are capable of reproduction at all. I should think so¡ªthey enjoy fornicating a lot anyway.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care whether they¡¯re a man or a woman, and you shouldn¡¯t either. What you should be focused on is how to suck Calridian dry of whatever power he has to offer and align yourself with the next Demon in charge.¡±

    For whatever reason, I scowl at the thought of Hargoil¡¯s fickle loyalties. ¡°Jumping masters huh, like a para¡ªI mean¡­ part-timer.¡±

    He scoffs and hacks out some strange sound through his mouth, and the horrid sound could only be laughter,.¡°I don¡¯t mind you thinking I¡¯m a parasite. I am, and I will be until I get what I want.¡±

    ¡°A team of your own?¡±

    He comes to a full stop in our walk, turns to stare at me, and shakes his head. ¡°Think¡­ bigger. Stick with me, do as I say, and you¡¯ll be much bigger too¡­ Human.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ Human.¡± I¡¯m not sure why I jump to correct the obvious taunt, but he leaves me to ponder on his vague wordings and promises.

    When I catch up to him again, he¡¯s walked into one of the worn-down ¡°buildings¡± of the city. Inside I find him meeting with Gerim and the silent two. I still haven¡¯t caught their names, but their silence unnerves me.

    The building is filled with Demons of various sizes and levels, but very few are as weak as the two silent Demons, or me for that matter. Countless eyes turn to me as I walk in. Essence runs through my limbs as I prepare myself for any mad fiend that may think it wise to launch itself at me.

    The inside is much the same as the outside, a pile of corpses behind some stone door. A large Demon without an icon deals in special parts from the psychic atmosphere in the room. The Demon is an angry red worm with thick appendages protruding from its side and a long snout that slurps up some fluid in a cup. It pauses its slurping to stare at me, and I prepare my mental blocks for the obvious incoming intrusion.

    It¡¯s barely a success and my head rings in pain. It doesn¡¯t make another attempt, but it does introduce itself. ¡°You¡¯re Gerim¡¯s latest pet, I can see why you¡¯re keeping to yourself.¡± Its snout pulls on the fluid and it shudders. ¡°Good luck out there, Calridian is a real slave driver.¡±

    Gerim grabs my arm and pulls me out, yelling back at the Demon, ¡°Keep away from it, Calridian¡¯s orders.¡±

    ¡°Of course! Whose orders would I bother following!¡± It yells back, but Gerim¡¯s already shoved me out of the building.

    ¡°What¡¯s this place?¡±

    Gerim growls and tosses me a desert cloak. ¡°Don¡¯t tear this one.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a place of trade, Nil¡­ your name is Nil, isn¡¯t it?¡± Hargoil peers behind Gerim, answering the question in his place. The other two beetles, far shorter than Hargoil and almost as tall as I, stand by his sides.

    ¡°Nil, yes.¡±

    ¡°Come, let¡¯s go. We have to get Calridian what he wants.¡± Gerim orders and starts off without offering any further explanation.

    I turn to Hargoil and he continues to exude smugness as he answers, ¡°We¡¯re hunting a few Demons for their special components. Calridian¡¯s at it with his Spells again.¡±

    ¡°Spells? Wait¡­ we¡¯re hunting Demons for parts? Do we get to keep the Crystals?¡±

    Hargoil hacks out that horrid sound again. ¡°If we survive.¡±

 Step 4- Special Parts (P2)

    The four of us traverse the desert, marching in silent tow behind Gerim, who keeps sinking into the sand. The silence isn¡¯t by choice, there¡¯s a lot to talk about¡ªor at least ask about.

    There isn¡¯t much ahead of us, just more sand on the horizon, but looking over to the left I catch the blazing red of the Fire Divide. From time to time it lights up the sky with spires of volcanic eruptions¡ªI¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t go there.

    For all the faults of the Desert Divide¡ªthe Human-hungry Demons, the rotating storms, and the scalding sands¡ªI can¡¯t imagine surviving anywhere else. My body¡¯s begun to adapt to Reais, enough that the tortures I suffer from the blistering sands and wind have begun to feel more or less like a mild inconvenience. I¡¯d credit that to my leveled traits, [Calloused Exterior]- Lvl.2 and [Telepathy]- Lvl.3.

    The former cost me two Trait points to level up and the latter is still a difficult tool to use around Demons like Hargoil and Gerim. I should include the twins as well, but I barely ever sense anything from them¡ªit¡¯s as if they¡¯re always shielding their thoughts.

    Or maybe their telepathy is simply a much higher level than mine. Gerim and Hargoil have no trouble communicating with them or ordering them around. In the short few moments the two Demons and I have been in the same place together I¡¯ve yet to catch their names¡ªif they have any to begin with.

    But the question of the twin beetles having names is the least important one on my mind. The mission Gerim¡¯s marched us out here for is simple¡ªat least for everyone else.

    Calridian has ordered our squad to hunt down a certain kind of Demon and bring back specific parts of its body. Why? For his [Spells].

    And that has me itching to break the silence. The howling winds tossing dust and sand in our faces is all I can hear for miles. When we stepped out of the city I set myself on edge, flooding my senses with Essence in a crude but effective enhancement.

    There are a few other Demons lingering around, watching us as we tread further away from the city, but the deeper into the desert we march the scarcer they are¡ªnone have dared approach.

    Staring at Gerim¡¯s spiked back, I know well to attribute this quiet to his presence. At least the majority of the credit would go to him. Hargoil, although quite capable¡ª at least twice as strong as I am¡ªhas nothing on Gerim. The heavy and brutal beatdown he received punctuates this fact.

    Moving in a group like this would scare off the lesser Demons, the ones that sense me from afar and designate me as prey otherwise. I¡¯m grateful for the protection but a bit irritated by it. It¡¯s a lot harder to farm Essence this way.

    I shouldn¡¯t be worried¡­ or too eager, I tell myself as my focus shifts from Gerim to Hargoil.

    The tall¡ªeasily twice my height¡ªDemon has a keen sense for power and those seeking it. Watching the twins trail behind him, I can¡¯t help wondering how they ended up his minions.

    It can¡¯t be because they¡¯re the same species¡­ although I wonder if demonic species are even a thing¡ªit seems to be. The trio certainly look alike but neither of them share any of the same features. Hargoil¡¯s carapace-armoured body is a deep brown while the twins are a lighter shade, one having distinctive red spots around its body.

    Still, even if they are of the same demonic species, something else must¡¯ve brought them under Hargoil¡¯s brutal heel. And I¡¯d bet it¡¯s the same thirst for power I¡¯m blatantly oozing off that Hargoil used to his advantage.

    Or you¡¯re just being paranoid.

    Taking a breath, I remind myself none of that is important. The paranoia is warranted, of course, but I can¡¯t let it get in the way either. If Hargoil is interested in helping me get stronger, even if he believes I¡¯ll somehow end up his blind minion, then so be it.

    Mutual exploitation. Let¡¯s go for it.

    The deserts dunes shift as new ones are formed. The terrain never changes, but the shape takes many forms. Beyond Gerim¡¯s large spiked back I spot something in the distance, sitting at the top of one of the dunes.

    Letting Essence flow into my eyes, the picture clears up and worry swells within me at the dark cloaked figure with a long rapier. My heart thumps against my chest as the figure of a man rises and meets my eyes, even from this distance.

    ¡°Do you guys see that?¡± I ask everyone, patting even the silent twins and pointing out to the figure now posturing with his rapier.

    ¡°What? What are talking about?¡± Hargoil snarls, looking over at the same dune.

    That¡¯s all I needed. This is another nightmare, another waking nightmare, and I can¡¯t turn back. My throat dries up as the man kicks off the sands, running down at me with the rapier glowing. I shut my eyes and try to ignore it, but the darkness of my eyelids swell with a light, I lose my footing, and all of a sudden the man with the rapier is yelling down at me from ramparts while I toss and flop around in rushing water.

    Confused, I find my Demon body is gone. I¡¯m a child in a dress now, small, vulnerable, and without the muscle to fight the cascading flood.

    The horror scars his face and I know I¡¯m going to drown. The water washes over me, drowning out his frantic screams, his prayers, as I¡¯m met with another darkness.

    I snap my eyes open, panting, sweating, and out of breath. Gerim and Hargoil are far ahead of me now, but there¡¯s two hands holding mine. The twins.

    When they notice I¡¯m awake, they snatch their hands away and march off to meet Hargoil.

    Fuck, this has to stop. These nightmares¡­ I can¡¯t take it any longer.

    I quicken my pace and catch up with the long Demon. He stares down at me and exudes more of that pride and smugness. ¡°What do you know about the Spells?¡± I say, recovering some of my composure. If there¡¯s anything that can help me, it¡¯d be magic.

    His impression becomes curious, but he doesn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°You said Calridian¡¯s back at it with his Spells. Do you know how those work? Do you have any?¡± I press on, not bothering to hide my intentions.

    [Spells] are one of the many things on the stat sheet I¡¯ve yet to understand. I have even more questions about how Essence works, but it¡¯s best to address what¡¯s relevant.

    ¡°So you have mana?¡± Hargoil asks.

    Finding the question odd, I pause to stare at the sheet and try tugging on the faint tingling sensation building within before turning to ask, ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡±

    His thin mouth curls with disgust and his impression quickly fills with enough hostility to get Gerim¡¯s attention.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°What are you two doing? Don¡¯t waste my darn time, or I¡¯ll leave you for the damn Dawern to swallow.¡± He grunts, his fists balled up and quills sprung.

    Hargoil¡¯s hostile impression vanishes into thin air, replaced by a cold indifference as he makes clicking sounds with his mouth.

    ¡°Nothing, I was just asking about the, uh, Dawern?¡± I fumble, poorly hiding my surface thoughts from the larger Demon.

    ¡°The Dawern is what Calridian wants us to kill, but you want to know about Spells. You¡¯re a curious one. You look like a Human and think like one too,¡± he growls at me before getting distracted by his feet sinking into the sand. ¡°Araggh!¡±

    Gerim rips his feet out and continues the march. ¡°Keep your senses open. The Dawern will swallow you whole if you¡¯re unprepared. And I don¡¯t want to be forced to fish you out of its maw.¡±

    Hargoil follows after him, leaving me behind to nurse my shame as though he hadn¡¯t been the reason Gerim started his barking.

    He¡¯d throw me under the bus any day.

    I carry on behind them, still left wondering how [Spells] work and how I can get them. But it¡¯s not an entire loss¡ªHargoil¡¯s given away that mana is vital to the process, and more so the fact that he may not have any.

    Mana is rare¡­ valuable.

    But of course it is¡ªthe building block of magic should be coveted. And I do covet it. If I can figure out how to start working with mana, magic, and [Spells], then I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be stronger.

    At least a step closer to the strength I¡¯ll need to square off with the damned deities that cursed me to the Wall.

    Another thing I have no idea about. Who are they and where are they?

    Gritting my teeth, I set aside the troubled thoughts and focus on cycling Essence throughout my body, enhancing my senses and looking out for this Dawern we¡¯re on the hunt for. From what Gerim¡¯s said I know it¡¯s large enough to gulp me down, but so far nothing¡¯s changed in the desert. Not a single Demon swimming through the sands, not one scuttling over the dunes, not a single one glaring at us from the distance.

    It¡¯s as if the desert¡¯s been deserted.

    Gerim stops, the twins and Hargoil follow soon after, and I nearly bump into them for my slow reaction. Gerim¡¯s back bristles, the quills shivering¡ªlike the whiskers of a hissing cat¡ªand his fat sausage digits curl into a claw.

    ¡°Run!¡± he barks, dashing in the other direction the moment the sand begins to loosen, pouring into the center and rumbling beneath my feet.

    Hargoil leaps away, the twins follow after, and I start a desperate sprint away from the disappearing footing. The rumbling and the sinking halt as a long moaning roar echoes from the hole beneath. A row of brown, discolored leathery skin leaps out of the pit, chasing the sound of its own roar.

    The massive worm-like Demon crashes to the side of the pit, tossing itself over until it lands on the numerous stumpy appendages sticking out of its belly. The appendages carry it faster than Gerim¡¯s two legs as it immediately launches itself after him. Three other creatures make after Hargoil and I. Their limbs, thick and heavy with muscles, are like a snake, coiling around themselves. They¡¯re covered in dark brown scales and look similar to an earthworm or even a centipede. There¡¯s something strange about them though¡­ I can see them move and change shape. The creatures seem to be alive and have some intelligence at least.

    A second Demon is sent flying into the sand pile where I stand as the twins fire two thin bolts into it, but not before the other two are upon Hargoil. Two of them grab at his shoulders and he struggles to free himself. One manages to latch onto his back while the other goes for his head. Hargoil stabs with a large spine and sends one of the Demons away, impaled and hissing, but the other remains on him. With no real choice, Hargoil turns his attention toward the one holding onto him.

    The Demon tries to get its teeth through Hargoil¡¯s skin and muscle, but the thick armor keeps it from getting a grip. The acid it slobbers, however, starts to gnaw and corrode Hargoil. He grunts, summoning a spine out of his palm to stab the Demon with. It reels, shrieks, and lets go of Hargoil.

    The massive worm still chases after Gerim. Its mouth hangs ajar and shovels copious amounts of sand in each time it launches for Gerim. The quilled Demon is swift to react¡ªeach time what I¡¯m guessing must be the [Dawern] lunges, Gerim leaps in the air, twisting this way and that, shooting out quills with each turn, only to launch up again when the [Dawern] closes its jaws for another strike. Gerim lands so quickly I almost lose sight of him before I see the worm land, its fangs buried deep into Gerim¡¯s shoulder, its head swivelling to get the full measure of him, but it never gets a clear shot at Gerim. Instead, he leaps off, leaving it there, thrashing madly with its jaws locked shut on the spot he left it at.

    Injured, Essence pours through the gash in his shoulder and it begins to heal, the thick ichor running from him like a thin stream over sand. As soon as it¡¯s gone more than half his wounds are healed, but the ones on his stomach aren¡¯t as fortunate. He doesn¡¯t let himself heal any further though, instead using those quills that are now free to shoot at the Beast, forcing it to take several steps back before charging toward Gerim, its teeth ready to snap.

    I can¡¯t stop to watch, because as Gerim faces off with the mother [Dawern] more of the little ones pour out of the pit. Smaller ones begin to crawl out as well; these are no more than a head and a foot in size though, so they¡¯re not quite big enough to make any real progress with Hargoil¡¯s and the twins¡¯ volley of spines shooting them down. The bigger ones, however, begin to climb out. Their scales are dark and slick and the sand they leave behind glistens from the grease the worms must¡¯ve accumulated over countless centuries, making it hard for the spines to pierce.

    They¡¯re all versions of the same monster. Large and small, evolving through it all to become as massive as the mother that hunts Gerim. A wave of excitement rushes through me and Essence floods my muscles.

    It¡¯s a horde of Demons, launching themselves at me. I can¡¯t let this chance pass me up!

    My legs spring off the ground, landing with a thud in front of the first medium-sized one who emerges from the pit. I charge forward, my body moving in perfect harmony with my will, my mind focused on my next goal: the head.

    Before I know what I¡¯m doing, I reach out and grip it by the neck, slamming its head into the sand as it turns. My hand moves so quickly and powerfully that I almost drop the slippery thing, but somehow I manage to stay on it, holding onto it tightly even as it struggles to squirm free of me.

    It begins to struggle, thrashing in an attempt to break free. I direct a flood of Essence from my [Soul Crystal] into my arms, forcing them to grow stronger, to move faster and stronger as my body begins to burn more energy than it takes in, enough to power this fight until I either defeat it or am forced to flee from the creatures. With each thrust of my arm the worm writhes violently against me before eventually succumbing to the power I exert over it. Its struggles stop and a small trickle of Essence leaks from the wounds I¡¯ve created.

    The sense of it overwhelms me with lust¡ªthe Demon underneath me is at least at [Crimson]- Lvl. 1.

    It¡¯s Crystal will be mine.

    ¡°Nil, Hargoil! That¡¯s not the mission, get over here and help me end the Dawern!¡±

    Gerim¡¯s snapped order irritates me, but my rage at the prospect of this creature dying without being able to claim its Crystal is too much for me to ignore. So I force the Demon under me down with another shove to the ground before dragging it close, using my own weight to keep the Dawern pinned, using its own momentum against it to make sure it doesn¡¯t try to pull away again. The creature lets out a low moan, struggling to find a way to get back up. It¡¯s going to die either way though no matter what I do, so I use its struggles to push myself higher. My hand reaches around the Demon¡¯s throat and I begin to choke it, squeezing tightly while pulling on it with the other hand, trying to crush as much blood out of it as I can before it stops moving completely.

    I let go of it only when its death throes become unbearable; its long slippery throat cracked in by pressure, the Demon hurls out buckets of blood and hissing acid. The acid reminds me¡ªGerim. Moments before the Demon gasps its last breaths, I fuel my jaws with Essence and take a giant bite out of it.

    Its flesh is like butter in my mouth and I relish the taste. Its blood is red like my own and tastes even better.

    I let the body of the creature drop to the ground after I swallow, taking several steps back from it before I begin to search for its Crystal. Tearing into my bite from earlier, it doesn¡¯t take even a second to retrieve the burning [Crimson]- Lvl.1.

    ¡°Nil!¡± It¡¯s Hargoil that bellows my name, but the call comes too late. A few of the smaller Dawern are still crawling toward me. The first one I see has the same black slime on it I¡¯ve seen in my vision. I grab it by its back and crush it between my palms. I have a brief second of pleasure before it dies and then its Pink [Soul Crystal] becomes mine.

    There are more though, a couple of big ones among them. One is a bit more challenging than the others since it¡¯s a little closer to me, but I don¡¯t hesitate this time to grab it. Before it knows what I¡¯m doing, I slam it against the sand with my hands, making sure it won¡¯t be getting up for a while, before turning my attention back to the other monsters now coming at me.

    As much as I¡¯d love to enjoy farming these Pink Crystals, none of my haul will matter if we don¡¯t kill the mother first. So I start running again, leaving a trail of monsters in my wake until I arrive at the large monster leading them all this time

 Step 4- Special Parts (P3)

    Gerim continues to dodge and vault circles around the massive [Dawern]. The Demon shrieks and continues to give chase, completely ignoring the twin¡¯s futile attempts to stab through its slippery leather hide. As I¡¯ve observed, only Gerim¡¯s quills have managed to pierce through. I have neither quills nor spines, so I¡¯ll have to figure out some other way to help Gerim.

    While my head spins with ideas for making myself useful, Hargoil launches a volley of scraping attacks on the [Dawern] each time it stops, managing to take off several of the appendages that carry it atop the sand. He¡¯s tossed aside when the [Dawern] faces him with its tail end and wide pores along the side of its body.

    Pores it can seemingly move anywhere, I note.

    The pores blast out torrents of hissing acid at Hargoil, searing his armor each time he fails to dodge. I have to act before it does any more damage to Hargoil. Using a small amount of Essence from my Crystal, I begin to transform my hand. A mouth full of teeth breaks open on my palms as Essence seeps into the flesh and transforms it. Soon I feel as though it might burst from the power building up within me. I take in more Essence as soon as my new set of jaws is complete.

    ¡°Hargoil!¡± I call to him while charging toward the beast¡¯s flank. ¡°I¡¯m going to distract it so you can escape.¡±

    ¡°Wait, no!¡± he protests.

    My new maw opens wide, revealing a mouthful of long pointed fangs and a ready pint of Dawern acid. It¡¯s a rushed transformation and the mother Dawern may even be immune to this level of acid, but it will have to do. I thrust my fists right through two of the large holes that run down the Dawern¡¯s back. Acid explodes from me, flooding into the Dawern¡¯s insides and even pouring out through the cracks in the hole.

    There¡¯s barely any difference when Gerim finally lands on the thing with both quills and his claws. With an almost casual swipe, his razor-sharp quills puncture the beast¡¯s hide, slicing its top open. Even from the other side of the Dawern I sense his quills stab into the open wound, piercing its soft flesh like a thousand needles.

    A few well-placed strikes should kill the Pink Crystal Dawern, and then my next level will come along. All that¡¯s left to do now is keep up the fight and hope the others follow Gerim¡¯s lead,I think to myself before continuing the attack.

    The Dawern, however, continues to thrash and hiss, even with a flurry of quills sticking out from its insides making it look like a dried-up plant. The massive Demon refuses to die.

    It turns its head around and spews forth a stream of burning liquid from several holes on either side of its mouth. The acid erupts out of those openings, striking Gerim and setting his desert cloak alight. It shakes Hargoil and I off as well, neither of us wanting to find out how potent the Dawern¡¯s acid is. The twins fall behind Hargoil and ready long spines of their own, prepared to face the Dawern.

    The point where Gerim filled the Dawern with quills begins to rip¡ª tear open like there¡¯s a zipper going through it¡ª until the injured part falls off, including the Dawern¡¯s head, face, and gaping mouth. The mass of flesh sliced off like bread flops on the sand, leaving what I¡¯d expect from the insides of Demons like this.

    Its midsection displays a sort of pale, black, viscous membrane. Behind this are sections, pumping and gurgling as organs function keep it alive. Within the murky dark there¡¯s a brightening light, a sharp blue glow that shines down on all of us from above.

    It burns brightly¡ªlike a flame rising to the heavens¡ªand the light seems to draw the attention of the nearby Dawern as they pause in their pursuit, looking upward as if something great were happening.

    The glow bursts out toward Gerim, doing nothing for a split second before a whirlwind takes the desert sand. The winds suck and cycle the hot desert sand, spinning it in a horizontal cyclone. The heavy winds pick Gerim up, taking his legs off the ground, so he desperately hangs on to a long, staked quill in the sand.

    Magic!

    The Dawern displays another frightening ability. Within its midsection the blue begins to fade¡ªno, it blends with a rising Blood Orange light until a shade of purple hums outward. The purple swallows the murky dark of the midsection, and before our eyes the Dawern¡¯s flesh begins to lunge forward, stitching and fusing itself together until a new head is formed.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± Hargoil curses, the twins beside him continuing to do their best to attack the Dawern at a distance but far more occupied with the creeping horde of small and medium-sized Dawern.

    Fuck is right. We¡¯re screwed, I curse, leaping away from the Dawern approaching me while trying to think of our next move.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°We¡¯re screwed if it gets Gerim,¡± Hargoil agrees as he turns toward Gerim, who¡¯s still clinging to one of his staked quills in the air. ¡°If we leave him there we might as well give up on returning to Calridian.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I say in a tone that sounds like I¡¯ve already made my final decision. My mind is already made up. But not returning to Calridian, not getting a reward for this... that¡¯s the last thing I want to do.

    ¡°Then what are you going to do?¡±

    My jaw tightens and I look down to see the two halves of my new teeth poking out through the gap in my palm, oozing acid. ¡°We have to get Gerim out there. Calridian wouldn¡¯t have sent us to hunt this thing if he didn¡¯t think we could handle it... if he didn¡¯t think Gerim could.¡±

    Hargoil huffs but seems to agree. Staring out at the sucking cyclone, he says, ¡°That¡¯s if we can keep these ones off us.¡±

    I glance back toward the Dawern minions that are drawn to the brightening purple light coming from within the new Demon head. The Dawern is now a few feet from where I stood before, and a number of its smaller brethren swarm the ground around me. Their little hands and mouths reach out and touch my legs as they crawl all over, but none actually make it closer.

    Hargoil makes short work of them but doesn¡¯t bother ripping out the Crystals within. That¡¯s fine¡ªsaving Gerim from being sucked into the Dawern¡¯s wide maw takes precedence.

    ¡°Keep them occupied, I¡¯m going to try and distract it!¡± I say and sprint toward the largest danger I¡¯ve come face to face with since the tusked Demon.

    ¡°And how well did that work out last time!¡± Hargoil replies as he and the twins continue their attack, using their long spines for ammo.

    I waste no time enacting my rash plan. Leaping out with Essence-powered legs, I land atop the slippery Dawern. It doesn¡¯t take any notice of me, but Gerim does. His cloak flails in the wind as he desperately grips the stack of quills keeping him from being launched into the Demon¡¯s mouth. He nods and his fierce eyes begin to take on a blue glow, not unlike the one the Dawern had earlier.

    More magic.

    I take the sign and reinforce my arms with all the Essence I can reasonably spare from my Crystal¡ªwhich is a lot less than I thought. Any further and the bulging muscles start to tear and rip. With my max strength in my arms and shoulders, I grasp on one of the putrid acid pores the Dawern has along its body and pull on the sides.

    The reaction is immediate¡ªthe flesh begins to split at an alarming rate before tearing apart entirely and falling off of the Dawern like pieces of meat on a bone. With that hole exposed, I quickly leap away, my feet leaving small craters in the soft sand as I roll away and stand upright as Gerim finishes his spell.

    The blue glow is bright enough that even the other Dawern turn to watch in awe as the new, long quills pop out of his back and float in front of him.

    The quills are much longer than anything I¡¯ve seen Gerim or Hargoil produce, and there are at least twenty of them. The magic doesn¡¯t end there: from where I¡¯m standing I watch Gerim mutter some words, but the Dawern¡¯s agonizing cyclone deafens me to them. It abandons its own magic, finding it futile, and leaps at Gerim with its maw wide. The next moment the quills burst with a cool aura that wisps off the long stems.

    Gerim wastes no time once his spell is ready. With a wave of his arm, each quill extends forward and strikes down at the incoming Dawern, impaling a good dozen holes through its body. The cool aura spreads, seeping into the Dawern¡¯s otherwise oily hide until every impaled point has a wide, frozen radius.

    The twins use this chance to shine. Up until now their sharp javelin throws have done next to nothing against the massive Dawern, each of their attacks repelled by the slippery film coating the Dawern¡¯s body. But with that now frozen their attacks become deadly and effective, slicing through and piercing many more vital points along the creature.

    But this alone still isn¡¯t enough to fell the massive Demon. It screeches in agony and writhes, but its retaliation is swift. The air becomes heavy once more as it contorts, breaking away from its frozen flesh to get a good aim at Gerim. I sense the thick weight of mana in the air, knowing all too well that what comes after will be magic.

    Gerim doesn¡¯t stand around to find out. Having enough of a near-death experience, he sprints away, running toward us as we take care of the Pink Crystal Dawern. The mother, for the first time, doesn¡¯t give chase. Instead, the air continues to thicken until there¡¯s barely any left to breathe.

    But I don¡¯t need to breathe. So that means...

    I don¡¯t have time to complete my dreadful thought as it becomes a reality before me. Behind Gerim¡¯s fleeing form, the injured Dawern rises to full height on its tail and blasts out a burst of energy into the air. The result is perspiration. Rain.

    Acid rain.

    I remember stories of how acid rain affects Humans¡ªit burns skin, destroys stone. I¡¯m not Human any more, but I¡¯d never had first-hand experience when I was. I didn¡¯t know until now that it¡¯d hurt as much as it does.

    The acid rips through my skin like razor blades, tearing the already weakened skin apart as I try to shield myself and take cover. My hands begin to burn as I try to ward off the pain, but it doesn¡¯t matter because it keeps coming, burning and cutting away my hand¡¯s strength.

    I can still see everything going on in my periphery, so I¡¯m aware the others are suffering similarly. But that¡¯s not what I¡¯m focused on.

    There¡¯s something¡ªsomeone¡ªbeyond the rain and the massive Dawern casting the spell. Battling with the agonizing pain and trying to run out of the spell¡¯s range, I can barely make the figure out in the air. It¡¯s thin but broad with many legs and a... hammer?

    The hammer extends in the flying creature¡¯s hands and the head bulges, becoming fatter and wider. The wind starts to pick up the rain, blowing it toward us and increasing our torment, but it all ends with a single swing when the hammer strikes the Dawern in the center of its thick head.

    Light travels through the Dawern, breaking it apart at its meaty sections. The Dawern lets out a low, strained groan as its body begins to split, but the creature strikes again and again, breaking down the massive Demon. But the damage isn¡¯t over as one final strike sends the hammer deep inside the Dawern as its entire body collapses in on itself before collapsing into a crater.

 Step 5- Competition

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 5years, 4months

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.3¡ª 96.9esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 17

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 15

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 7]

    Traits: [Calloused Exterior]- Lvl.2, [Telepathy]- Lvl.3

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: Nil

    Patron: Nil

    <hr>

    Everyone stops to stare. Gerim, who¡¯d almost escaped the rain, already bounds back toward us at great speed while Hargoil steps close to me. A long spine is held tightly in his grip as he studies the Demon buzz to a safe landing atop the Dawern it fell. The numerous Dawern spawn that attacked begin to flee, but the twins busy themselves stabbing the life out of them. The larger, almost Crimson Crystal level Dawern are too much trouble though, so we let them go.

    I¡¯d chase after those, but I fear the new Demon in front of us has other plans.

    When Gerim lands in a plume of sand ahead of us, I start asking the questions rushing through my mind. ¡°What should we do? It¡¯s dead... what parts are we supposed to get? Are we still getting its Crystal? We didn-¡±

    Gerim¡¯s burnt, furious stare silences me in an instant, but Hargoil steps right up to reinforce the point. ¡°He¡¯s right, we didn¡¯t kill it, and that¡¯s clearly one of the Queen¡¯s Demons.¡±

    ¡°The Queen?¡±

    Hargoil faces me and nods. ¡°The Queen of Ticks and Fleas, one of the many rivals of Calridian, but fortunately she¡¯s a servant of our Demon Lord, her Demons won¡¯t attack us.¡±

    ¡°And how sure are you of that?¡± the Demon¡¯s voice booms through our heads. It buzzes, shifting through the Dawern¡¯s massive corpse, tearing out pieces of it to eat. ¡°The Queen could be rising even above the Demon Lord, and Demon Lords aren¡¯t bound by rules like we are.¡± It tosses a torn piece of the Dawern at the twins, and they don¡¯t hesitate to launch at it.

    Rather than fight over who gets the bigger piece though, the two manage to split it between themselves. Envious, I catch myself salivating at the torn piece: the Dawern¡¯s slimy flesh wafts a scent of power I haven¡¯t caught from any other Demon.

    There¡¯s something about it...

    My attention turns back to the newcomer. Unlike Gerim or Hargoil or the twins, I can¡¯t find an icon above its head and I¡¯m having trouble placing its gender as well. But I suppose that bit doesn¡¯t matter as much as the fact that the Demon wields a hammer and is stronger than Gerim¡ª more so now that the quilled Demon suffers a large gash along his torso where the Dawern took a good bite out of him.

    It¡¯s unlike any of us in shape, resembling an oversized cockroach with muscular forelimbs capable of wielding a hammer¡ª a weapon that radiates Essence of its own¡ªand a large back covered in white spots and patterns. A tick.

    ¡°You¡¯ve come for the Dawern as well, but you¡¯re out of luck, Fex. We dealt the most damage to the Demon,¡± Gerim snarls, Essence oozing through his injuries, stitching them up slowly but surely as he takes defiant steps toward Fex. ¡°It¡¯s ours by right now, find another to bring to your Queen!¡±

    Fex is left unfazed as it looks down on us all with its long red head. ¡°I¡¯m not here to challenge you for it, but if I were... I could get away with it. You¡¯re even weaker than I thought you were, Gerim. Aren¡¯t you meant to be Calridian¡¯s personal aide?¡± It makes a sound I equate to a snort and continues digging through the Dawern¡¯s body. ¡°I won¡¯t challenge your right to keep the part, but let me have the Crystal and I¡¯ll escort you back to Calridian. You¡¯re going to need all the help you can get, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    At the mention of taking the Crystal, I can¡¯t keep my mouth shut any longer. ¡°You¡¯re not taking anything! You interfered with our hunt, you don¡¯t get to take a single slice of the prize!¡±

    Gerim sneers at me but doesn¡¯t rebuke my outburst. Fex¡¯s impression, however, tells me he isn¡¯t pleased with the disrespect. It snarls and its back breaks open as its wings buzz it into the air. ¡°You should know your place. This hammer is worth more Essence and esq than you are.¡± It continues buzzing above the Dawern¡¯s corpse but faces Gerim once more. ¡°And you should take a good deal when it presents itself, I would be doing you a favor.¡±

    Fex buzzes off without another word, leaving the squad alone with the Dawern corpse once more. I let out a deep breath. Hargoil steps up from where he stood. ¡°Well, that was unpleasant. The Dawern aren¡¯t the ones we should be focusing on anymore, let¡¯s move on.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    Hargoil grunts, walking past me toward the giant Dawern corpse. ¡°Gerim? Why don¡¯t you mentor your mentee for once?¡±

    The quilled Demon snarls at me but for once he gives an answer. ¡°It means we have to finish cleaning up here and get moving with the Dawern¡¯s corpse. You must have sensed the power it¡¯s giving off.¡±

    I nod, ¡°Of course, I can barely keep myself from jumping at it.¡±

    Gerim snorts, pleased. ¡°A lot of Demons won¡¯t try to keep themselves away, and why should they? The Dawern¡¯s flesh is... intoxicating.¡± His impression quickly turns to one full of greed, and even without a high leveled [Telepathy] I can tell what he¡¯s thinking. He shakes the greedy thoughts away though and continues, ¡°They¡¯ll be here soon, and they¡¯ll fight us for the Dawern. Demons from all around this desert will be on their way here. We have to chop it up into bits and then... well, you¡¯ll see.¡±

    ¡°How can I help?¡± I ask, eager to pitch in as much as possible. The fight with the Dawern didn¡¯t have me contribute much at all, and I managed to get off with fewer injuries compared to Gerim and Hargoil.

    ¡°Keep watch, there are bound to be some tumbling their way over here already,¡± he says without turning back. Gerim beckons to Hargoil and the two of them get to work splitting the Dawern by every third of its stratified sections. Their spines and quills act quickly to pull the beast apart.

    I¡¯m left with the twins, and together we keep watch... or at least I do. The twins dedicate themselves to plucking the Crystals out of the many littered bodies of the Dawern. I¡¯ve already picked mine up, only a dozen Pink Crystals and a single Crimson. It¡¯s a disappointing haul when compared to the twins, who seem to find each Crystal they pull out a prize worth celebrating. One by one, their arms fill with a glittering collection of precious stones.

    I curb the growing combination of envy and greed rising within me as I watch the two. Encroaching on their well-earned and deserved kills wouldn¡¯t be right of me, especially when we¡¯re on the same team.

    Would it be a different scenario if we weren¡¯t?

    I¡¯m not sure what I would do if the threat of being an outcast wasn¡¯t there. Or the threat of Hargoil enacting swift retribution. I shake my head. Hargoil wouldn¡¯t even be the immediate obstacle, the twins would. Am I strong enough to toss them aside and rob them of their Crystals?

    I catch myself for the second time at the thought and shake my head again. No, should I even be robbing people? Is that the kind of person I am?

    To be frank, I don¡¯t have the slightest idea who I am or what morals I¡¯d act on in a situation that would immediately benefit me. And looking back a few moments ago, I only asked Gerim if I could help because I felt left out on the haul of Crystals. The Dawern¡¯s Crystal could surely make up for what I¡¯m lacking, get me to the next level.

    I¡¯ve spent a year too long as only a [Crimson Lvl.4], and with my fresh injuries I can¡¯t help wondering if I¡¯ll rise out of Crimson before something ends my life.

    I can¡¯t die before¡ª

    A sharp clang snaps me out of my thoughts. A spine falls to the ground. Stabbed through it are short but sharp spikes. By the time I turn to look the twins are already on the move, their large haul of Crystals buried under the sand. The twins rush toward a figure in the distance, weaving through whistling projectiles with spines summoned in each hand.

    A Demon, not a Dawern. But still a Demon, a male with a black body, red eyes, and a long curved spine growing from his lower back. A long horn juts out from either side of his head and two arms hang down to his chest as if they¡¯re dragging him along the ground.

    The male¡¯s spines aren¡¯t like Gerim¡¯s, more like sharp barbed spikes. One for every two feet of his body.

    His face is a twisted mess, covered with scales, a snout like a snake¡¯s, and sharp teeth jutting out between the scales. His skin has a bluish tinge to it, though there¡¯s a red patch in the center. The red and blue together don¡¯t blend very well... it looks more like a blood clot.

    [Hezurra]

    The Demon charges straight at us and his spikes whistle through the air. I have no doubt that if any hit me forcefully they¡¯ll rip right through and rend my flesh. Essence fuels me and I join the twins in the battle¡ªall I have for weapons are my fists, but if I get a good bite out of this Demon I¡¯d be able to imitate its strongest weapons... if it doesn¡¯t kill us first.

    I rush up to the Demon, who turns on us as we draw near. It lunges for me with its teeth open wide, but my gait allows me to duck under its leap and slam my fist into its face. My punch slams right into its jaw and connects with bone-shattering force. Blood gushes forth, and I suffer a dull burning in the back of my hand. It managed to stab through my fist, worsening the burns from the Dawern¡¯s acid rain.

    The twins follow my example and move against it. The Demon is quick with his spikes but not quite fast enough to get us all. It flinches at their sudden charge and spins to hit them before they reach him, but it misses and we each manage to land a couple of strikes. Its spikes impale both the twins in quick retaliation at closer quarters. But I quickly grab hold of its head while it¡¯s focused on the twin¡¯s gruesome assault and twist. A long barbed spike shoots through my hand and I hear a series of satisfying snapping sounds as the Demon dies.

    Its body tumbles backward and I turn to see Gerim and Hargoil, who are about done with the Dawern¡¯s body. Only two more sections left.

    On the horizon though I discover we¡¯re far from done. From afar I catch a glimpse of a [Bichu], an [Adar], and two other [Hezurra]. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s more, but these are the closest.

    ¡°Uh... Gerim! Might want to hurry it up!¡±

    At my call Gerim groans and shoves Hargoil away. Hargoil doesn¡¯t retaliate; rather he runs over to us, summoning spines from his back to aid our defense.

    ¡°Are you ready for the fun? This is just one of the many ways to get Essence, Nil,¡± he promises, twirling his long javelin spines in his hand.

    I pluck out the dead [Hezurra¡¯s] burning Crystal.

    [Crimson Soul Crystal]- Lvl.2(7esq)

    [Absorb] [Destroy]

    I pocket the Crystal and cast a side glance to the twins who¡¯ve quickly fallen behind him and respond, ¡°You can show me the other ways once we get out of here, right?¡±

    His impression grows cold and murderous, but not at me. He pulls back an arm and launches the spine in his right hand. His arm swings through the air and the javelin flies at incredible speed, piercing into the head of the approaching [Hezurra]. The [Hezurra] tumbles to the ground and its head cracks open, blood spraying everywhere. It¡¯s not dead yet, but another volley from the twins finishes it off.

    ¡°Survive. Keep your Crystals rather than absorbing them.¡±

    With the dead [Hezurra]¡¯s Crystal safe in my pocket, I go on to pick its corpse and take a bite of it while it¡¯s still fresh. It¡¯s salty. Energy flows through my body from the bony meal, and my Essence latches onto the [Hezurra]¡¯s lingering fluids and little flesh. With it, I begin to forge my hands in a similar fashion to it.

    ¡°This might take a while, cover me?¡± I ask Hargoil with a mouth full of bone meal.

    He doesn¡¯t bother with a response, leaping out to take on a raging [Bichu] and its troublesome armor, the twins by his side.

    With my shapeshifting underway, I turn to watch what Gerim¡¯s up to. His eyes glow and so do his quills, becoming larger than they have before. He uses them as one would chopsticks. With them he splits the Dawern apart completely, a massive worm cut into seven large parts.

    That done, his eyes stop glowing and he huffs before pulling out a ring. The ring glows white and lets out a screeching sound as the light envelopes Gerim and all the Dawern¡¯s parts until I can¡¯t make any of it out even by squinting.

    The flash of light dies faster than it appeared and I can see again. There¡¯s nothing left¡ªall the split parts of the Dawern, as well as a good portion of sand, have disappeared.

    More magic.

    A deep Blood Orange glow calls from where Gerim stands though, the Dawern¡¯s Crystal. But I don¡¯t have time to focus on that; my transformation is nearly complete and there¡¯s a round of Demons coming my way.

    Fuck.

 Step 5- Competition (P2)

    I¡¯m already on my way back, barely finished with my transformation when another [Hezurra] bursts through the ground and coming at us with its claws extended. Gerim swipes the claw away and then goes to rip off the head with his fat hands. He tears it off with unnatural ease and bounds to the third [Bichu] tormenting Hargoil and the twins, where I¡¯m headed.

    I groan as I have to stop myself from heading to pluck out the Crimson Crystal in the deceased [Hezurra]. The fight is getting further away from me; if I linger any longer I¡¯ll be left behind and fresh for the rest of the horde hot on our tails.

    Gerim had taken out the first round with a wave of his hand and a blue glow to his eyes, but they keep coming. Exhausted from his repetitive use of magic, the Blood Orange Demon still manages to remain the only one unscathed by our attackers.

    I¡¯ve already lost half my health since coming here. I groan, knowing the significant cost of injuries on my Essence reward.

    And that¡¯s not the worst part. Because of the hounding rush of attackers, the twins failed to retrieve their buried pile of Crystals and now have Hargoil seething. Although he seethes with frustration, he takes it out on the Demons in our way. I can relate to the sense of loss he radiates.

    I should have stolen some after all.

    The disappointment and frustration don¡¯t end there either. Since Gerim rained down freezing quills on the first round of attackers, he¡¯s continued to swoop in and save our collective hides each time. In a point of life and death like this, a thought like this should be the furthest thing from my mind. I should be grateful to possibly get away with my life, and yet...

    As an [Inurri] breaks out at me, piercing at my side with its stinger, I¡¯m forced to make a desperate jump to the side, where I come face to face with an odd [Swak]. It¡¯s long and lanky, unlike the usual fat ones I come across. It swipes at my head, slashing my face with its acid-dripping claws, and I fall on my ass, tumbling backward through the sand.

    Retaliation is the furthest thing from my mind as the [Inurri] charges at me. I halt the transformation, taking the unfinished product with its flaws, and raise my bony arms toward the Demon.

    And for the first time I experience the joy of long-range attacks as my palm and forearm release a flurry of barbed bone spikes. The spikes tear into flesh, blood spraying as it bursts open a sack. The [Inurri] lets out a strained shriek before falling over dead. I let loose more spikes, which tear into other Demons. With each strike I can feel the drain on my Essence.

    As a consequence of my rushed transformation, attacks like these hurt. I curse yet again as I¡¯m forced to abandon the gleaming Crystals of the fallen. Rushing to keep up with Gerim and the others, I make a point of flooding my limbs with Essence, daring the Demons to be faster.

    The [Hezurras] aren¡¯t done with me though, as one jumps up on my back to claw at me while the others tear at my legs, trying to pull me to the ground. With a quick roll to one side, I manage to toss it off. A second is close behind me when a sudden gush of fire comes from my left and incinerates it to ash in its track.

    Gerim is already in the air leaping into the fray to protect me. Again.

    I swallow the growl and replace it with a cheer of appreciation. ¡°Thanks!¡± I call out as the Demons around me scatter.

    His eyes stop glowing after a few more blazing bolts of fire and he returns to my side as I run. ¡°Hurry,¡± he urges, taking off ahead of me.

    It¡¯s a vain struggle from here on out, but soon I catch a whiff of the city. Even with my limited senses, it¡¯s hard to miss the radiating power oozing from Calridian¡¯s domain, the Broken City. I¡¯m burning through Essence at this point, because there are still Demons chasing after us.

    Huffing and puffing with each tear my leg muscles go through, I imagine that the Demons chasing us now aren¡¯t the same as over an hour ago. I¡¯ve seen them do as Demons do, get distracted with better, quicker rewards and attack the weakest in the chasing horde. Many of them should have eaten and killed the others or run off by now.

    It¡¯s a mundane thought, but the only one that can appease my frustration as my strength wanes.

    The drain irritates and bristles me so much I nearly stop to consume all the jingling Crystals in my cloak¡¯s pockets.

    This had better be worth it. I curse Calridian, Gerim, and everyone I¡¯ve ever seen for this disaster. A whole day wasted fighting Demons and running for my life because Calridian wants to do [Spells]? What kind of mad bastard makes up a spell like this in the first place?

    With each beat of my heart, my eyes fall back on the stat sheet, staring at the new strength I¡¯ve gained.

    Trait [Quick Mold]- Lvl.1 Attained!

    It¡¯s a meager compensation, one I¡¯d even scoff at if I were patient enough not to scream first. But reprieve and hopefully greater rewards will reveal themselves. The city peers over the horizon, a mere three dunes away. I can hear the distant sounds of its residents already.

    The Demons at our backs immediately begin to whittle down in their numbers, scattering off to the sides to escape chaos or dying by the dozen as they attack one another. My mind races and all thoughts of anger are lost as I look back with the hope that I¡¯d be able to finish this today.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Calridian is an asshole who deserves worse than death for this. But he¡¯s also the ward who¡¯s keeping me safe in the last lap to his haven. I can only imagine what kind of power he wields to disperse a horde of three dozen Crimson Demons without ever showing his face.

    By the last dune, we¡¯ve escaped the horde at last and peter down to a slow, exhaustive jog toward the Broken City.

    I¡¯m panting when I reach Gerim. Together with the others, we march right into the city where many Demons stop to mutter and cheer¡ªor grunt and heave for those without telepathy.

    By the warm reception, I can tell that word of our mission has traveled. The crowd of insects and arachnid Demons make way for us. It¡¯s a straight, undisturbed walk to Calridian¡¯s lair.

    ¡°Wait here,¡± Gerim orders before heaving the Blood Orange Crystal of the Dawern and the ring containing its parts into the lair. At his entrance the long, massive doors leading to it close shut. Something they¡¯ve never done as far as I know.

    Spells... special parts... how does any of this relate to mana?

    It¡¯s frustrating not knowing how to cast [Spells]. Or how to get them in the first place. Am I missing something? Do I need a special part from another Demon to cast them? How do I even get started mastering my grip on mana?

    Hurt and reduced to the weakest I¡¯ve felt, I can only wait and anticipate Gerim¡¯s return. Hopefully Calridian gives me a fair share of Essence.

    I¡¯m only granted a moment of reprieve before a shadow clouds the little patch of light I¡¯m sitting under. Eyes opening, I find Hargoil, not as beaten as I am but beaten nonetheless. For once the twins are not with him, off in their own little corner, likely silent as ever. I detect waves of confidence rolling off of Hargoil; I can already expect to get the shorter end of whatever deal he¡¯s about to propose.

    ¡°Hey there,¡± he greets me with more cheer than I¡¯ve ever seen him with. I¡¯m in trouble for sure. He¡¯s smiling too hard and too wide to hide anything, especially when he leans back on one shoulder like that.

    I raise an eyebrow to question the reason for his change, but all it earns me is a smirk and a chuckle. ¡°So, I have a proposition for you.¡±

    Propositions aren¡¯t exactly the kind of thing you accept out of kindness or goodwill. Especially when it comes to dealing with someone who¡¯s trying to take something from you. My muscles tense, ready to spring at any moment, and my mouth opens, ready to speak. But what comes out aren¡¯t the words I thought to use first.

    ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±

    Hargoil grins wide. It makes him look like a child with a present. That smile fades a moment later as he recites, ¡°You pay me in Essence for every new method I teach, and you fight on my order, not Gerim¡¯s.¡±

    I can¡¯t hold it back anymore. I scoff, chuckle, burst out laughing. The hilarity of this moment supersedes the threat of Hargoil¡¯s growing wrath.

    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not that dumb is all. Did you think Humans are? I know that¡¯s all you see me as, a Human with a Crystal that ought to be yours.¡±

    He makes a good attempt at rolling his beetle eyes at me and growls, ¡°What¡¯s your other option, hmm? Gerim? Do you think Gerim wants to see anyone stronger than him? He¡¯s a coward. He won¡¯t teach you everything.¡±

    It¡¯s a weak argument for further enslavement under himself, but it¡¯s an argument nonetheless. He¡¯s right¡ªGerim is an unfortunate coward. Unlike the other captains, he¡¯s the least proactive with raids on the outside. He¡¯s why I¡¯ve spent a year idle and playing with mana. Around the city¡ªin the few places I dare to stand in for long periods¡ªthey identify me as the right-hand¡¯s minion. The right hand being Gerim, as he¡¯s the one Demon to closely serve Calridian and the oldest as well.

    If he¡¯s so close to Calridian and so old too... why is he weaker than other captains? There¡¯s about a handful of Demons without an icon over their heads. Gerim isn¡¯t one of them.

    Rumors, of course, but there¡¯s a grain of truth to each of them, isn¡¯t there?

    The thought leads me to consider, ¡°What about you?¡±

    Hargoil grunts at the question and I clarify, ¡°What¡¯s keeping you from getting stronger? Why aren¡¯t you there yet if you know it all?¡±

    His impression turns foul. He begins to growl when the massive doors swing open and Gerim comes charging out. I watch him smack Hargoil out of the way before grasping my arm.

    ¡°Hey, wha-!¡±

    Gerim shakes his head and snarls, ¡°We need to go.¡±

    The words sound more like commands now than anything else, He tosses a pouch of what ought to be Crystals to Hargoil and drags me through the doors. Once more they shut, and I take a tumble when Gerim lets go of me.

    Calridian¡¯s lair is as vast and complex as it was the last time I was here but less populated.

    Cautious and a tad apprehensive, I stay in Gerim¡¯s shadow while he strides ahead without a hint of fear or unease. We reach a staircase that descends into a deeper pit of the lair beneath us.

    Calridian is tall... taller than I last saw: he¡¯s constantly growing. His long coil of a centipede backside meshes with the worm torso, leading up to a lizard head.

    He¡¯s changed...

    He¡¯d never had a lizard head... at least not since I saw him. He¡¯s morphing his body somehow.

    The dirt-brown lizard head turns down on us as Calridian glares at me through narrowed eyelids. His gaze roves around the room as he acknowledges our presence, ¡°Nil. It¡¯s been a while.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master,¡± I respond out of obligation more than anything.

    Gerim steps forward and bows respectfully before turning to leave without another word. I¡¯m left alone with the master of the city, the biggest threat in this desert as far as I¡¯ve seen.

    His large body carries him across the room to the large table of [Soul Crystals]. ¡°Gerim mentioned you¡¯ve taken an interest in practicing magic.¡± He thrills, a hint of excitement under all that monotone.

    A spark of curiosity flares within me. ¡°I have, Master,¡± I confirm.

    ¡°I am impressed,¡± Calridian replies. There¡¯s a tone of approval like I¡¯ve done something worthwhile. Maybe this will end soon and he won¡¯t want to kill me or use me anymore?

    ¡°You have grown since we last saw one another. Faster than I thought you¡¯d be capable of. I¡¯d attribute that to Gerim being cautious and light-footed with risk, but you survived the Dawern... albeit quite injured. Your magic has grown stronger as well,¡± the Demon observes,.¡°Tell me more about this?¡± He raises an eyebrow in question to my answer, a gesture of curiosity.

    I draw a blank here. What am I supposed to tell him about? Dread overwhelms me as I wonder whether I¡¯ve oversold myself to him. The panic is short-lived as keeping him waiting is more likely to get me squashed than answering.

    ¡°I¡¯ve only begun to sense it. It feels cold and hot... and it¡¯s boiling and frozen and many other things at the same time,¡± I grunt, frustrated with my lack of results. ¡°I can¡¯t get a grip on it.¡±

    Calridian doesn¡¯t say anything; instead, he levitates a gleaming Blood Orange Crystal from the pile. ¡°This is your worth from your contributions on the mission. It should help... enlighten you.¡± He passes it over and drops the thrumming Crystal in my hand.

    [Blood Orange Soul Crystal]- Lvl.1(50esq)

    [Absorb] [Destroy]

 Step 5- Competition (P3)

    Calridian¡¯s reptilian face looks down at me. The cold air around us is still thick, but my breath no longer seems to leave me. I take the Crystal in hand, turning it over in my fingers. It¡¯s warm, nearing scalding hot even, but it¡¯s not a heat that can harm me. Rather than that, it fills me, flowing through the pores of my fingertips, seeping into my [Soul Crystal]. The power beckons me to absorb it all.

    This is it. My reward, and not just any kind either. Gerim is gone, Hargoil and the twins are outside... this is for me, and me alone. This is a reward presented by Calridian himself.

    Calridian himself...

    I catch myself at the thought and the power-hungry side scolds my delay. But I have to stop and think. Why? Why is Gerim gone? Why is it just Calridian and I? Why is Calridian presenting it to me himself?

    Something¡¯s up.

    I could be paranoid, but my paranoia hasn¡¯t failed me yet.

    I haven¡¯t made any progress... any true progress.

    The questions I¡¯ve asked myself and many other Deaders still haunts me years after my liberation. I meet Calridian¡¯s piercing gaze, sure he¡¯s read enough of my thoughts to know where my goals lie, and yet he¡¯s silent.

    Is he testing me? See if I swallow power without any questions or guarantees?

    I want to shake my head, but a scowl stretches across his reptilian face at my delay.

    ¡°What is it? Not good enough for you?¡± he asks coldly.

    No, it¡¯s exactly what I desire! I almost respond out loud as I turn my eyes to the power he¡¯s offering me. It feels like life... like I could be reborn from nothing, given new strength and vigor... a change¡ªa big one. I can feel my soul trying to take the offered gift, but my will pushes it back. I have to do this right, I know that now.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s exactly what I desire,¡± I respond.

    ¡°But?¡±

    ¡°But what¡¯s in it for you? Why isn¡¯t Gerim here? Or Hargoil or the twins. Why have you singled me out?¡± I know there has to be a reason, a sort of test or even a trap.¡± Yes... a trap.

    Calridian doesn¡¯t respond the way I thought he would. Rather than fluster and become defensive, he nods and says, ¡°Gerim is no longer here because Gerim is not here.¡± It¡¯s spoken in a matter-of-fact tone, but somehow it still doesn¡¯t ring true.

    ¡°You don¡¯t trust him?¡± I say, and the look Calridian gives me makes my skin crawl. His eyes are full of malice, but the words coming from his mouth aren¡¯t full of hate.

    ¡°This is not about him at all,¡± Calridian answers and turns away as if he couldn¡¯t care less. As if Gerim being here or not wasn¡¯t even worth mentioning. I swallow back my frustration, knowing it¡¯s useless to try conversing with a Demon who¡¯s probably read everything from my psychic leak.

    The Crystal starts levitating out of my hands. ¡°You should appreciate the gifts you¡¯re given. And you will¡­ once you¡¯re¡­ whole, more or less,¡± Calridian responds without looking at me, and I can¡¯t figure out if he¡¯s truly talking to me. Whole?

    The Crystal flies through the air at his command, twirling a bit before it stops and falls toward me. When the Crystal hits my chest and I feel my soul being consumed, I have a moment where my mind becomes blank and then everything is still once again.

    Somehow Calridian¡¯s forced me to accept the Crystal¡¯s power. It burns through my bone, skin, and body. The throbbing in my chest is both my heart and soul. And as the invigorating surge of energy takes hold, my whole body is on fire, my very blood flowing and boiling. My limbs feel heavy; I fall over backward into the sand as the sensation consumes me.

    In the stark red light that is my vision, a woman, the same woman from many of my waking nightmares, appears. Except this time there¡¯s no goblin in sight and we¡¯re not in the kitchen where she died.

    Birds chirp across the blue morning sky. She shakes out the clothes and spreads them across a long line, offering me a brilliant smile and giggling when the water splashes her face. I can¡¯t help the smile that spreads across my face.

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    Then the sky darkens, and she swirls away from me as the quiet afternoon in the backyard is replaced by tall, cobbled castle walls. The air here is stifling. My head is bowed and all I see is the dirt on my boot. So close to my crotch I find that I smell rancid, and I try not to wrinkle my nose as footsteps creep up behind me.

    A man places a hand on my shoulder, but reality glitches and it turns into a sword. I find it in my hand before long, the tip sunk into some poor man choking on his own blood. The castle walls are gone; in its place is mud, gray skies with streaks of fire blazing across and soot falling like snow. I pull the blade out and stumble, tripping over another man slain in the same fashion. I take a spill and I¡¯m on my back.

    The battlefield is gone. Alcohol invades my nostrils as a woman straddles me, her breasts dangling in my face. I blink and Calridian comes into view for a moment before fading out completely.

    More images flash through my eyes. I can¡¯t keep up with the changes, and soon all I can do is scream. These aren¡¯t nightmares but something about them scares me. There¡¯s a swelling dread to them, each image leading to the doomsday of all. I shut my eyes and continue to scream.

    Nil¡­ Nil¡­ NIL!

    ¡°No! Leave me alone! Not again! Not ever!¡± The words leapfrog out of my mouth in a deep panic¡ªI can¡¯t breathe. I want to open my eyes and see Calridian, to see something other than those images and the dread that accompanies them, but I know there¡¯s nothing beyond this darkness.

    Gripping my head, I let myself fall, seething and cursing deities, Demons, and Humans equally as I spiral.

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.5¡ª 146.9esq

    Trait [Psychic Resistance] Attained!

    Ability [Essence Amplification] Attained!

    This time the Blood Orange Crystal let me skip level four. I¡¯m impressed, even more so with the new ability and new trait.

    ¡°Nil.¡±

    I pause my moaning at his voice. A gentle hand cradles my head and I look up to find a man. Tears creep up again as I fear I¡¯m in another waking nightmare. But his smile, the ceiling and walls behind him, not to mention the suffocating pressure of power he exudes, is all familiar.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Calridian asks, his Human form¡ªno, Elven form¡ªis that of a handsome young man in his forties or few hundreds, if what I know about Elves is true. He lends me a hand and I climb back to my feet.

    ¡°Does that happen often?¡± he presses, and I shake my head.

    ¡°It¡¯s never happened like that.¡± I shoot him a mild frown, careful not to make my annoyance at his forceful overtures evident. He smiles, seeing through my hesitance with ease.

    ¡°It¡¯s best you speak your mind. What you have to say may not matter at all, but [Psychic Resistance] will do you no good against me. You¡¯re not even a Blood Orange tier yet.¡± He¡¯s spouting his own version of ¡°resistance is futile.¡±

    Calridian moves away from me, gesturing over at one of his many shelves. A trio of scrolls levitate off the shelf and hover toward him. He unfurls and reads them as he addresses me. ¡°You must have [Essence Amplification] now, you¡¯ve gotten to that point.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°You will need it for my mission, Pink tiers will only give negative esq now, no use to you, is it?¡±

    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t,¡± I say, a tad disappointed that I¡¯ll have to cross out a source of esq. Even if it was a meager one, it was still a source.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he says, reading the third scroll. ¡°With your new ability you¡¯ll be able to fuse and amplify the Essence in these Crystals with your own power. It¡¯s one of the most common jobs for Crimsons.¡±

    ¡°Job¡­?¡±

    The scrolls snap shut and Calridian lets out a charming chuckle. ¡°You didn¡¯t think everyone fought in the desert, did you? Some people just want a simpler life for themselves while others, like you and I, aspire for something greater.¡±

    The scrolls hover over to me, but only two of them. They unfurl and I try to read the scribbled figures on the parchment, but the ineligible words morph into plain English before I can protest.

    ¡°Nil, you will find that magic is¡­ a volatile power. It acts differently in contact with different things or people¡­ or souls. There are several ways to go about casting magic. Some use charms and aids like staffs. Others use words, chants, and important Keys to activate their Spells¡¯ desired effects. A Key is the easiest way to cast magic, and so you¡¯ll start with that.¡±

    Done reading, I look up at Calridian. ¡°None of these Spells help me.¡±

    ¡°Who ever said they were meant to help you?¡±

    I can¡¯t refute that. I¡¯m not sure why I thought he¡¯d suddenly become a reasonable ol¡¯ Demon just because he¡¯s taken some Human-esque form. He¡¯s still the strongest Demon in the city, the strongest Demon I¡¯ve met, and the one I have good reason to fear.

    I straighten up and put aside my troubles; this isn¡¯t the being to seek help from. Answers, perhaps. Help? No.

    ¡°You are a special one, Nil,¡± he says suddenly. I can¡¯t tell anything from his impression, as he gives none. ¡°You¡¯re lost in yourself, confused¡­ you¡¯re missing the key piece of the puzzle. But once you get that, everything will snap into place.¡±

    The stress he places on some words, it¡¯s almost like he isn¡¯t even talking to me. He¡¯s talking to the person he sees in me. I wonder who that is; whoever it is made this shapeshifting Demon take me in when I was otherwise just another useless spec in a desert of many Demons.

    I have an idea of what Gerim¡¯s intentions were for me. He¡¯d said I could work as a Human because I look like one. If he¡¯d had his way with me I¡¯m sure I¡¯d be missing limbs and have some kind of forced genitalia by now. All to fuel their industry of Essence, of power.

    But Calridian¡­ his eyes are different, and so are his plans. He¡¯s certainly no savior and may well be as horrible as Gerim. But for now, I think our interests align.

    ¡°Mutual exploitation, am I right?¡± I manage a smile.

 Step 6- Casting

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 5years, 4months

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.5¡ª 140.9esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 10]

    Strength: 17

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 15

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry], [Faithless Essence Amplification]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 17]

    Traits: [Calloused Exterior]- Lvl.2, [Telepathy]- Lvl.3, [Psychic Resistance]- Lvl.1, [Quick Mold]- Lvl.1

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: Nil

    Patron: Nil

    <hr>

    Calridian lets out a rhythmic buzzing I count as a chuckle, further amused by me. ¡°Yes,¡± he nods, ¡°the Spells are basic. Enough to begin your education. It isn¡¯t necessary, but you should know the basics before moving on to what I¡¯ll need you for.¡±

    I furrow my brow up in thought. ¡°What do you have planned? And how can I be of help if I¡¯m a simple student of magic?¡± I ask as the scroll begins to glow.

    The [Spells] seem rather advanced, but the bare instructions I skim through say otherwise¡ª

    ©¤ Basic Spell - Invisibility (1/5)

    ©¤ Duration: 5 minutes

    ©¤ Effect: Renders caster¡¯s body invisible.

    There¡¯s more text to read at the bottom, but I don¡¯t bother with it right now. This would come in handy in certain situations, but not all of them. For instance, I doubt anyone who¡¯s got a decent amount of intelligence is going to be fooled by something like this when we¡¯re talking about a Demon. But for other Demons, it might work. The less sensitive and unaware Demons.

    ¡°You want me to learn invisibility....¡± My eyes narrow as I eye the Demon, his hornet head bulging into something entirely different but equally monstrous. ¡°Why?¡±

    He chuckles as he approaches me and the scroll. His head is no longer Elven or Human. Instead, he¡¯s a creature with many legs and a long, snake-like body. He has two wings on his back that are black as midnight. The color matches the shade of his skin, a deep, dark coloration of the scales that cover the length of his body, save for his face¡ªa fanged, white, menacing ape-like face with a scarred and non-healing left eye.

    ¡°That¡¯s a good question,¡± Calridian states before dropping yet another scroll before my nose. He pokes at the first scroll. ¡°Read it, then let¡¯s discuss.¡±

    I do as I¡¯m told, skimming through the instructions quickly until I reach the spell part, then reading through the details¡ª

    ©¤ Basic Spell - Minor Illusion (1/5)

    ©¤ Duration: 2 minutes

    ©¤ Effect: User can distort the appearance of objects and enemies, manipulating and distorting senses.

    ¡°What is this supposed to be used for?¡± I ask.

    ¡°To trick others into thinking you¡¯re something you¡¯re not or into seeing something that isn¡¯t there,¡± he responds, ¡°I¡¯ve given you all the tools you¡¯ll need for your next task. Oh, and one more thing, magic comes best to the wise.¡±

    As deep displeasure flashes across my face, Calridian booms with amusement. He¡¯s purposely letting me know I have no choice, that it¡¯s ridiculous for me to deny.

    But he wouldn¡¯t be wrong, I can¡¯t... but I can promise success.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever it is you want me to do. I already wanted to learn magic, so this is great too.¡± I blurt it all out honestly. Against a Demon like Calridian, there¡¯s no point protecting my thoughts. He¡¯s already transformed¡ªshapeshifted twice. He¡¯s baiting me to ask, and I have to.

    ¡°But first I¡¯ve got to have some answers. If you¡¯re teaching me you have to indulge me, right?¡±

    Calridian maintains his amused impression and doesn¡¯t respond. I nod and take a step closer to his hydra-like body and continue, ¡°You¡¯re a Demon from the Wall of Faithless like me, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°There are many other Demons and even mortal species capable of shapeshifting, Nil, but so what if I am? Would that make you stop doubting?¡± His tone is dry.

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    ¡°No... not really,¡± I mumble to myself, the Demon chuckling. ¡°But is that why you sent Gerim away? Because you need a shapeshifter you can trust?¡± I wonder if he¡¯s rather simple that way, a tribal Demon, one bound to those of his kin or some bullshit. But I doubt he¡¯s seen something else, and he¡¯s intent on using it to his advantage.

    ¡°Trust... silly, you don¡¯t need to know or question my intent, child.¡± The words come through gritted teeth.

    ¡°Then let me be a child once more, answer my questions. I know you¡¯ve heard them all.¡± I know he won¡¯t help me figure out what¡¯s going on with these nightmares, maybe that¡¯s what makes me valuable to him even. But I have to know about the Gods.

    Calridian lets out another deep growl as his ape head sprouts three horns before he lets up and resumes his clear impassive and silent impression. The one I can¡¯t hope to penetrate anytime soon. ¡°I suppose I wouldn¡¯t be using you for this if you weren¡¯t... annoying. I will answer your questions.¡±

    I remain silent, my heart hammering with excitement¡ªFinally, answers to my questions.

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you the names of the Deities you were born to. There could be several who would demand disloyal souls like ours be damned to suffer the Walls. Personally, I forsook the worship of Vuius... there, that¡¯s one Deities¡¯ name I¡¯ve given you.¡± He chokes me outright when it gets juicy.

    A wide grin spreads across his white ape face, pleased at cutting it short. ¡°Tell me more, tell me their names. All of them! And tell me where to find them.¡±

    Before I can say any more one of his limbs smacks me into a wall, knocking a voiceless yelp out of my throat. The taste of blood fills my mouth and my head whacks against a pillar.

    As my vision swims and darkens I catch Calridian¡¯s voice as he draws near. ¡°You have no need to fear them, Nil. Do as I command and you will rise... be it tomorrow or in the next thousand years, you will rise and watch my ascension. Watch me build a new pantheon... one you could be a part of.¡± He picks me up with the same assaulting serpentine limb as it shines a soothing ray of light over me. ¡°The power to tear them down... is with me.¡±

    My strength and health return as suddenly as they left. Calridian sets me down and leers at me with the scarred ape face. ¡°There is a Demon with this face, and you must kill him.¡±

    ¡°What about its Crystal?¡± I cough out blood. If I¡¯m to mull along with his pantheon I hope there are immediate rewards.

    ¡°You can absorb it... if you manage to complete the task, you¡¯ll likely need his strength anyway.¡±

    I have to ask. ¡°Why?¡±

    Calridian doesn¡¯t spare me a look as he says, ¡°To survive his minions.¡±

    ¡°Minions!?¡± I question him incredulously. ¡°You said I only needed to kill one Demon.¡±

    Calridian sneers at me. ¡°Yes, because that¡¯s the only Demon I give a damn about! Feel free to keep their Essence as well, just kill him.¡±

    ¡°Who is this Demon?¡± The question hangs in the air between us. I¡¯m well aware by the mountain of Essence pouring off Calridian¡ªa Demon I¡¯ve already once vexed into smacking me across the room with one strike¡ªthat my tone is not appreciated. But I have to know what kind of power I¡¯m facing up against.

    Calridian remains silent for a bit, fuming and heaving as his tentacle limbs lift and fuse into a broad, heavy ape arm. His voice is like nails on a chalkboard as he growls.

    Again I step forward. Essence rushes through me, the peak power of a Crimson Lvl.6 brims through and hardens my surface. ¡°I know you said I shouldn¡¯t ask questions, but you should tell me what I¡¯m going out there to find. And where is ¡®out there¡¯ anyway? Where am I going to find an ape-faced Demon in this desert¡ªwho apparently has minions I¡¯m going to have to deal with.¡±

    I pause¡ªhearing the words coming out of my mind for the first time, it makes no sense! I could barely contribute to killing the Dawern, so why send me, of all people on the squad, to kill this Demon?

    ¡°Gerim can cast magic, I¡¯ve seen him do it. And Hargoil... he¡¯s older and eager. He¡¯s definitely not the amusement I am to you, but he¡¯s eager. So what is it? What¡¯s the catch to all of this?

    ¡°I don¡¯t care how strong he is, I¡¯m not going to stand here and¡ª¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a Demon called Morthul, once one of my more reliable guards.¡± Calridian cuts off whatever it is I might¡¯ve been about to say next, turning from the wall as if it¡¯s all suddenly too bothersome. His ape face turns to the rack and shelf of weapons and items reeking Essence and mana. ¡°But he grew wings he stole from me. And the possessions he stole are capable of cementing him as a new Lord of the Layer.¡±

    He sneers and spits, ¡°And he could do so in the Demon Lords¡¯ desert... and... well, that would get out of hand.¡±

    My lips purse as he speaks, my words forced down at last. But I¡¯m still waiting to hear how I fit into any of this. Why, weak as I am, I¡¯m getting sent to kill an apparent Lordling.

    ¡°This has been a secret... for some time now. Should anyone hear of it¡ªanyone capable of wielding those objects¡ªthen I¡¯d have simply exacerbated the problem,¡± the Demon says, his voice a bit calmer and less enraged than before.

    I pause to process what he¡¯s saying and my jaw falls open. ¡°You picked me because I¡¯m too weak for any of those items to work on me... Hargoil and Gerim could become a threat, the twins are too weak to be successful, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re only half correct. I could have chosen Hargoil, but he isn¡¯t as intimate with magic. I should have created him normally,¡± Calridian groans out the last word as he turns from me.

    Wait... created him?

    I set aside the shocking revelation and focus on the direct consequences of his words. ¡°So I guess it¡¯s either I go or you go.¡± I start with a smile, not wanting to upset him too much¡ªI don¡¯t want him to take off my head¡ªand my smile falls a second later as I play my hand. ¡°But you can¡¯t go... can you?¡± I ask him in a flat tone.

    Calridian snarls back at me, his fist lashes out, and his eyes glow red as his entire being seems to vibrate with anger. ¡°You dare mock me?¡±

    Brimming with Essence, I¡¯m quick to dodge his attack, feeling the wind rush past me as he lashes out. My hands come up in surrender and I hold them out to the side, palms facing upward as if I was begging forgiveness¡ªbut I don¡¯t.

    ¡°I¡¯m only pointing out a fact. You have to remain here for whatever reason, maybe to protect the rest of your magical possessions or to protect the Demons in the city.¡± I look around the room, seeing nothing but weapons, armor, and other miscellaneous pieces of equipment. There aren¡¯t even chairs or beds for someone to rest on.

    Calridian doesn¡¯t respond immediately, his mind racing as he considers everything I¡¯ve said. But I continue to press him, ¡°Or maybe you can¡¯t leave because the Demon Lord ordered it. Did he... she... they?¡±

    ¡°Enough of this. You¡¯ve realized your worth... I shouldn¡¯t have underestimated a Human mind. Your species has always been cunning, pathetic scum scrounging for power from those who truly deserve it.¡±

    ¡°If you haven¡¯t noticed... I¡¯m a Demon now,¡± I tell him, standing tall as I try and fail to match his intimidating size. He growls again and takes another step forward, closing the distance between us. ¡°And for the moment... I¡¯m a Demon you can¡¯t afford to kill,¡± I say, hoping to halt any further attacks.

    A hearty laugh escapes his throat. ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t be so sure about that... but fine, what else do you want? You want something... don¡¯t you? Aside from answers, of course¡ªI won¡¯t give up any more until you serve.¡±

    Serve.

    The word has me grating my teeth together as I think through my options. A cursory glance through the room and a spiral of thoughts gives me the perfect thing to ask for. ¡°At least give me a weapon, Fex had one.¡±

    Calridian snorts and follows my gaze to look where I¡¯m staring. ¡°A weapon... most of these you won¡¯t be able to control or even wield. But I will get you something... as soon as you can cast those Spells and kill Morthul. Deal?¡±

 Step 6- Casting (P2)

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 10]

    Strength: 17

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 15

    Back at my hovel and safe from navigating Calridian¡¯s mind games, I have Essence points to distribute among my stats. I¡¯m quite satisfied with my Agility, even though some Demons manage to get the drop on me time to time. My main concern regarding battle is strength.

    I¡¯d dump all my points into strength if not for the new agenda¡ªmagic. As I¡¯ve suspected all along and as Calridian confirmed not too long ago, magic, mana, and even Essence¡ªall these powers work according to the wisdom stat.

    Magic comes best to wise Demons.

    In the end, for the sake of progress I have to give wisdom seven points and round strength to twenty points. With my agility it shouldn¡¯t matter too much how hard I hit, and with the [Spells] I¡¯m to learn I don¡¯t intend on getting close and personal with my fights from here on out¡­ that is if I can learn the damned [Spells].

    But before that, I¡¯ve got more points to assign.

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 17]

    Traits: [Calloused Exterior]- Lvl.2, [Telepathy]- Lvl.3, [Psychic Resistance]- Lvl.1

    With an excess of points to share between my few traits, I see no reason not to max out my very first.

    [Calloused Exterior]- Lvl.5 Maxed!

    Evolve Trait? Costs 4 Trait Points.

    I¡¯ve already spent six points getting it to max, but I¡¯m curious to see what it would evolve into. My skin is already quite tough, but I imagine I¡¯ll want to be capable of tanking attacks so I don¡¯t go losing my arms or lungs again. For the sake of it, I toss four points at it.

    [Calloused Exterior]- Lvl.5 Evolved!

    Trait [Armored Form]-Lvl.1 Attained!

    The change is clear. My muscles tense like they¡¯ve been strung for decades and my bones stretch and harden. My fingernails scrape against my skin like they would against rock. I smile and flex, tossing a punch at the earth. I feel nothing, even as a small crater forms beneath my fist.

    Well worth the ten points.

    I look to the rest of my traits and find Telepathy ready for an evolution as well. I¡¯d like that.

    [Telepathy]- Lvl.5 Maxed!

    Evolve Trait? Costs 2 Trait Points.

    [Telepathy]- Lvl.5 Evolved!

    Trait [Greater Cognizance]- Lvl.1

    I don¡¯t feel any different with this one, but I can pick up thoughts on a farther scale and listen in on unguarded conversations from my place. I try searching for Gerim but don¡¯t find any trace; he¡¯s better at this than I am and surely knows how to keep himself hidden. But as my mind recedes into itself, I pick up on a familiar signature. Hargoil. He¡¯s close, approaching my hovel.

    Another mission maybe? I shrug and stop watching his movements after awhile. He¡¯s mainly loitering or speaking to someone else in a conversation I can¡¯t penetrate, at least not from this distance. If he¡¯s headed here, he¡¯ll meet me when he comes.

    I toss the rest of my points into [Psychic Resistance] and get it up to level three before working on spellcasting.

    After a few hours of trying to cast my new spell¡ªwhich I quickly learned wasn¡¯t going anywhere¡ªI sit myself down on the bed in frustration. What I want to do is simple¡ªdistort the light around me so I become translucent to the common eye. It would allow me to move without being seen by most creatures and make things easier while sneaking around.

    With insight on just the kind of Demon I¡¯m going up against, they could be as strong as Gerim, and definitely stronger than Hargoil. I¡¯ve never had the misfortune to go against either of the two, but given what they¡¯ve displayed in battle so far I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll walk out unscathed¡ªat least not as I am. By my sense of things, Hargoil shouldn¡¯t be that far above me in strength anymore.

    If I¡¯m crafty about it, I¡¯m sure I could take him down if it came to it. Of course, there¡¯s a major blindspot to my confidence. Hargoil is experienced... versatile, and most of all, comfortable with his Demon body. It¡¯s been close to six years... and even more time has passed since I flew out of the Faithless City and into Reais. And with everything I¡¯ve gone through, I should be satisfied with this body, capable and efficient.

    But I¡¯m lacking... hesitant.

    Am I still in shock over everything?

    Frankly, it feels like a lucid dream¡ªI¡¯m the only sane person in a dream world, no, nightmare-like world full of apparitions and happenings. The worst of all is... I¡¯m trapped, given enough information... flashes of memories that tell me I¡¯ve been more than this... better¡ªno, not better... normal.

    I let out an exasperated sigh, leaning back onto my elbows and staring blankly at the ceiling. If I didn¡¯t know any better, I might say I was going insane. But I do. I know this too is a form of torture, an elaborate scheme to punish and hurt me. Why else would a Deader simply be taken off the Wall?

    The bastard deities must have heard my thoughts and decided I needed to suffer more.

    Resisting the urge to smash my newly fashioned makeshift rock table, I stare down at the spell and the guiding instructions on how to manifest it.

    ©¤ Basic Spell - Invisiblity (1/5)

    ©¤ Duration: 3 minutes

    ©¤ Effect: Renders caster¡¯s body invisible.

    ©¤ Range: Self

    ©¤ Casting Time: 10 seconds

    ©¤ Damage Type: None

    ©¤ Description: Creates a veil between the caster and their surroundings, rendering them invisible.

    ©¤ Cast Instructions: Concentrate your mind and thread mana through light while expressing the Key¡ª¡°Wekt.¡±

    When I study out the words it reads as simple and clear-cut instructions on how to become invisible. But when I reach out into the ever-transforming pool of mana within, straightening it into a thin threaded spool, I quickly realize how complicated it actually is.  ¡°Wekt!¡± I command, waiting to turn invisible.

    ...

    Yet nothing happens. I don¡¯t get any alerts telling me I¡¯ve unlocked a [Spell] and I don¡¯t even feel the cost of mana. Nothing happens.

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    Furious, I smash my foot through the table and scream, ¡°Fuck it! Fuck you!¡± I stab an accusing finger at the scroll. ¡°Fuck it all!¡± I let out once more before storming from the hovel and heading outside. But before I can make it through the ¡°doorway,¡± I bump head first into Hargoil¡¯s hard chitinous carapace.

    He glowers down at me and takes my chin between his fingers, tilting my face upward. He stares intently into my eyes, making me squirm uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

    ¡°What are you?¡± he voices in my head, giving off a clear impression of accusation, like my being offended. ¡°I¡¯ve seen Humans before... but you. You¡¯re... confusing. A long thing or a hole? Which is it?¡±

    I regret being patient enough to last through the seconds of my time he¡¯s just stolen and immediately retaliate. I make to bite off a finger but he pulls away, laughing darkly.

    ¡°I¡¯m a Demon,¡± I answer, glaring daggers at him as I cut past him.

    ¡°Hrr, you should really be chanting that Key, you¡¯re nowhere strong enough to command it with a single expression.¡± He makes that horrid sound I¡¯ve attributed to a laugh. ¡°Wekt... Wekt... Wekt... Wekt!¡±

    My mood takes a dip at the correction. I try again, concentrating harder now that I¡¯ve realized what I was doing wrong. My lips part, forming the words ¡°Wekt...¡± I mutter under my breath before pausing to narrow a glare at the dirt ground.   ¡°Alright then, your help is much appreciated. You can leave now; I have an important assignment from Calridian himself.¡±

    My deliberate wording doesn¡¯t fail to upset him. His eyes flash with a bloodlust and the spike in Essence around him tells me he¡¯s ready to throw down and maul me. But he doesn¡¯t. Begrudgingly, he swallows it and his face gleams with delight instead. ¡°I thought you wanted me to tell you the other ways.¡±

    I blink at this for a moment before the memory snaps forth. ¡°Oh,¡± is my pathetic reply. But I can¡¯t help it, I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be so eager to help me, to reveal his secrets. Taking a look at him, I realize there isn¡¯t actually any reason why I shouldn¡¯t accept his offer. Especially if he¡¯s serious about it.

    He reeks of desperation, not that I can tell by his neatly tucked psyche¡ªit¡¯s a difficult thing poking into his mind. It¡¯s an obvious assault as well, so I don¡¯t bother. His actions speak well enough of the desperation for... whatever gain he may reap from showing me the ropes. I bite my cheek and shrug as I take a step toward him.

    ¡®Mutual exploitation, right?¡¯

    ¡°Right.¡±

    His small mouth struggles to form a smile at this. He sets out toward me and grabs me by the arm. ¡°Great... you¡¯ll love this.¡±

    The two of us walk through the streets of the Broken City together, passing several groups of Demons lingering in alleys and near shattered buildings. Most of them give off an aura of hostility but none of them dare approach. I¡¯d attribute that to the fact that I¡¯ve reached a new peak in my power as a Demon, but the truth is far simpler than that.

    I stare up at Hargoil¡¯s back as he drags me along. Even with my new stretch in height and weight, he¡¯s still a few heads above me¡ªhis Essence level is still much higher than mine as well. Since the Dawern hunt he¡¯s gotten an increase, just not a significant one.

    My eyes narrow at the thought. His power doesn¡¯t feel like it¡¯s grown in leaps, not like mine anyway. Did Calridian give me more?

    He¡¯d presented me with a strong Blood Orange Crystal that sent me up two Crystal Essence levels. The idea that Calridian would give me more to facilitate my growth isn¡¯t that farfetched. He¡¯s sending me on what may as well be a suicide mission.

    And he doesn¡¯t seem to like Hargoil much either. I roll my eyes. I don¡¯t think anyone likes Hargoil very much.

    Snatching my arm out of his excessively strong grip, I poise the question bluntly. ¡°Where are we headed?¡±

    He doesn¡¯t say anything for a bit, and I worry I underestimated his psychic abilities and blurted out my thoughts. I¡¯m not remorseful at the idea of being caught, but I¡¯m relieved when he takes a turn and says, ¡°Remember this place?¡±

    There¡¯s the stench of blood, urine, and other disgusting substances. But there¡¯s also the unmistakable air of Essence. It¡¯s heavy here, and there¡¯s an obvious presence of mana too, albeit less than the Essence choked up in here.

    It¡¯s the run-down building with many holes in it, the one with a door, perhaps one of the few doors in Calridian¡¯s city. It¡¯s the place Gerim came to pick up a desert cloak for the Dawern mission.

    ¡°I remember the one with the snout.¡± I scowl at the thought of the unidentified Blood Orange. It¡¯d snapped into my mind without so much as an introduction. Many Demons do that here¡ªonce they find themselves capable of peeling into you they think they can get away with anything. And of course they do, because they¡¯re right.

    If you can¡¯t even protect your mind¡­

    A second round after all the growing I¡¯ve done isn¡¯t something I¡¯m eager for. I might have attained [Greater Cognizance] but that doesn¡¯t change the fact that this Demon is stronger than even Gerim.

    ¡°Good. I said this is a place of trade, remember? You should have kept that in mind and visited it if you really are eager for power,¡± Hargoil says, pausing outside the building.

    ¡°I did. I remembered the encounter and thought better of it.¡±

    ¡°Not very social, are you?¡± He sneers.

    ¡°Can¡¯t afford to in a pit of Demons that want a taste of my Human-looking flesh.¡± At this Hargoil shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s fine, I can handle it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I want to hear. Handle your mess, I¡¯ll handle mine,¡± he says, washing away any responsibility I¡¯d expect from his hands.

    The inside is the same as last time. Little has changed and the same snouted Demon stands behind a counter slurping some fluid. Blood Orange tiers and high esq Crimsons litter the place, all locked in some silent conversation or negotiation that has the air buzzing with psychic activity.

    I mind my business and trail behind Hargoil to the counter, where he greets the snout Demon. ¡°Looking sharp, Fanacle,¡± he says. ¡°Keeping a good watch for Calridian?¡±

    The snouted Demon slurps loudly and lifts a heavy eye toward Hargoil. ¡°What do you two want? Don¡¯t think Gerim¡¯s got a mission today, no word.¡± His eye rests on me for a moment before passing back to Hargoil. ¡°You been beefing this one?¡±

    Hargoil beams with pride. ¡°A bit here and there.¡± He makes a low clicking sound with his mouth I¡¯d call laughter.

    ¡°Quick to take the credit. Are you such a habitual liar you forget who you¡¯re speaking to?¡± Fanacle slurps the last of the orange fluid and pulls another jar from behind the counter. ¡°What do you want? Can¡¯t bother reading you when I¡¯ve got several higher tiers to watch. Get it out.¡± He¡¯s as sour as the last time.

    Hargoil loses his mirth and leans against the table. ¡°Showing the pet some ropes is all. Tell him what you serve.¡±

    Fanacle doesn¡¯t look at me, but he pulls out a scroll and lets it unfurl across the countertop. I have a look and, like the scrolls Calridian gave me, the gibberish written there morphs into English.

    [Fanacle¡¯s Trinkets. Trade, Request, Buy!]

    Hot Sales!

    -Desert Cloak

    -Mana Bolt

    -Flame Spear

    -Exorbitant Potion

    -Crimsons(5-12esq)

    When Hargoil said it was a place of trade I thought he was referring to debauchery and lust. But this is very useful.

    ¡°Do you have anything that¡¯ll help me learn Spells faster?¡±

    ¡°For 700esq I do,¡± Fanacle says, knowing full well I don¡¯t have anything near that.

    Hargoil chuckles. ¡°You¡¯ve got rich aspirations, Nil. That¡¯s Blood Orange territory. Why not get something you can employ in a pinch, hmm?¡± His condescension reeks, but I shake my head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have any Crystals to pay with anyway.¡±

    Fanacle pulls a Crystal out. It startles me, because it¡¯s got no color, completely transparent. ¡°We can take it out of you.¡±

    ¡°Out of me?¡± I sputter, confused for a second before realizing. ¡°Oh¡­ out of me. My Soul Crystal.¡±

    ¡°A real genius you got here, Harg,¡± Fanacle says, setting the blank Crystal away. ¡°Maybe come back when you¡¯ve got esq to spare.¡±

    Hargoil leads me out, rather disappointed in me, but then he didn¡¯t get anything either so I don¡¯t let him get to me. ¡°One more stop,¡± he says.

    He doubles his pace, and before long we arrive at an obscure, tall building on the edge of the city, near the deteriating walls. It¡¯s mostly intact, but there are signs of battle nearby¡ªthe usual pile of Demon bodies, except these Demons are very much alive, if only weakened.

    My first thought is to smash into them and rip out the lingering scent of Essence wafting off their bodies, but Hargoil stops me with a raised hand. ¡°Slow down, you¡¯ll hurt yourself.¡± He gestures at the sky and the large mass of Demons flying overhead.

    I look up at the swarm of winged Beasts circling above us. There¡¯s got to be hundreds of them.

    It¡¯s the most of these Demons I¡¯ve seen cluttered in one space. The winged Demons who intervene in fights and report to Calridian. They¡¯re always here, watching for law breakers. Even with my new power I can¡¯t make out what kind of Demon they are, Which can only mean it¡¯d be suicide to try fighting them... at least without a plan.

    ¡°They won¡¯t get close enough to bother you as long as you don¡¯t do something stupid.¡± Hargoil assures me before pointing back at the pile of Demons. ¡°The best way to get more points is to target Demons a lot stronger than those, they aren¡¯t... rich.¡±

    He¡¯s right. They aren¡¯t rich in Essence at all. From the vague sense of things I have, I can combine the collective mess of them into a single Crimson lvl.4. It¡¯s not worth the trouble killing them, not with Calridian¡¯s enforcers overhead.

    Hargoil struts through the building¡¯s hole of a doorway, chittering at the Demons sitting by the side. I walk in behind him and their bloodlust spikes at the sight of me. I¡¯ll have to deal with looking delicious for a long time.

    A single flare of Essence sets the Demons back in their places¡ªneither of the two lizard-like Demons match my Essence level from the look of it.

    [Tokek]

    We¡¯re let through and Hargoil guides me into the building. It¡¯s dark, but I suppose that doesn¡¯t matter when you have Essence. The space expands, large enough to hold a cafeteria for the Demons gathered; each of them stare up at us, sizing me up with hungry eyes. I¡¯m sure the ones who attacked me in my house are among them. A lot of familiar-looking faces here.

    The floor is lost under us in the next room, but going by Hargoil¡¯s eager impression, I guess this is where we¡¯re meant to be.

    A pit. Full of glowing, glowering eyes. In the middle of the pit is a large, elevated piece of earth surrounded by four pillars. Pillars holding onto a strong, certainly magic, chained net.

    My senses go haywire, screaming of danger coming from all directions, but no one attacks and Hargoil seems very comfortable here. I start to stare up at him to ask a question but something else catches my eyes. Above our heads are another row of Demons, going on until the top, some of them even flying over the pit to watch.

    An audience.

    If it wasn¡¯t clear before what this is, it is now.

 Step 6- Casting (P3)

    In the pitch blackness of the pit, it¡¯s immediately clear what Demons have the advantage down here. Atop the... ring, there are a good number of Demons mulling about each other. By my count, there are at least a dozen or so Demons down there with their numbers increasing when a daring Demon takes the bet and tosses themselves in.

    ¡°What is this? Why are we here?¡± I turn to ask Hargoil, knowing the answers to the questions already but wanting to hear them aloud all the same. Hargoil doesn¡¯t meet my demanding gaze, instead immersed in conversation with a long-nosed Demon. It tosses a short glance at me; the dozen red eyes scattered across its forehead blink all at once, and it turns back to engage Hargoil.

    But I won¡¯t be ignored. I raise my voice and demand, ¡°Hargoil! What is this?¡±

    He turns to face me, his expression somber. ¡°This is where you fight your first real battles, the ones that¡¯ll tell you if you¡¯re deserving of life.¡±

    ¡°I am deserving of life, I know that already.¡± The notion that I have to prove myself deserving of life in any way, to anyone or being, repulses me. The Deities have already overstepped on that part.

    He snorts, then turns to face me. He stares me down and asks, ¡°But are you deserving of power? If you want to find out, and if you want it... then I guess you¡¯ll have to hop on in.¡±

    I¡¯d roll my eyes all the way to the back of my head if I could. ¡°And why aren¡¯t you taking the delve with me? Don¡¯t you want power? Hmm?¡±

    He smirks. ¡°But I do have power... and I¡¯m getting more.¡±

    Faster than I anticipate, his hand thrusts forward. I grab his wrists and clutch but he¡¯s already brought up a sharp beetled foot. His kick lands firm on my chest and I¡¯m sent flying through the air as I plummet into the pit.

    His smile is replaced by a grin full of teeth. ¡°If you think that was bad, just wait till you see what happens next!¡± he calls.

    The ground comes up fast. I land hard and slide across the earth, rolling over and over until I come to a stop. My vision blurs and I cough, having taken a breath full of dust. I waste no time fueling my entirety with Essence, my feet tense, ready to leap.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t attempt leaving if I were you, we don¡¯t like quitters.¡± Hargoil¡¯s condescension rings clear in my mind, and I groan.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t sign up for this!¡± I yell right back. ¡°Get me out of here or¡ª¡±

    ¡°Or you¡¯ll call Calridian? Gerim?¡±

    When he places emphasis on their names like that, I realize neither of the two could give a damn if I¡¯m dead or alive. Heck, Calridian would likely want to watch, see if he¡¯d made the right pick for his suicide mission.

    Still, my muscles tense, readying for a great jump. I can see a clear path out of here already. The first jump should take me up on either one of the pillars beside me, and then from there I can make a greater leap for the pit¡¯s top. It¡¯s a clear and easy escape for anyone to attempt... but if it were that easy to leave, Hargoil wouldn¡¯t have tossed me in.

    He chuckles, ¡°I¡¯d hate to see you die... so I guess... don¡¯t do that. I¡¯ve got a lot riding on you winning.¡±

    That gets a pause to my incendiary thoughts. Winning?

    I nearly snap my fingers and call myself silly. Of course, Hargoil isn¡¯t the risk taker... he wouldn¡¯t toss me in here without expecting some kind of profit from it, Essence. I glare up at the fiend, now realizing he¡¯s sold me as his champion¡ªthe bastard. He¡¯s not getting a drop of Essence if I can help it. If I have to beat it out of him I will.

    But first...

    A cursory look in any direction grants a menacing, ugly view of Demons teeming with hostility. Some are on four legs, some on two, and some crawl on their bellies. But there¡¯s one thing in common between every Demon in the ring with me¡ªeach and every one of them has an icon.

    I can identify their species or type or whatever it¡¯s called on the stat sheet. And each of them exudes power similar to mine¡ªCrimson. They¡¯re all Crimson-level Demons.

    And that means they¡¯re strong... as strong as I am at the very least.

    I let my eyes wander about, taking in the sheer size of the pit and the numbers of Demons filling it. I let the vague, innate demonic sense guide my eyes as I watch everyone stalk me in much the same fashion. If there¡¯s no getting out of here, then my biggest concern would be the Demon on the far end of the ring, standing all by its lonesome.

    It¡¯s not an imposing figure, but it¡¯s still a Demon and it¡¯s a threat. The Demon stands at least twice my height and has a broad, thick neck, wide shoulders, and a hulking body. It has the scarce features of some kind of bird. By the way its neck hangs low with the black beak, I¡¯d say it¡¯s a vulture.

    [Udele]

    The [Udele] stands on two legs, long and thin like a bird¡¯s. Its four-clawed arms are folded across its chest and covered with feathers I¡¯m highly suspicious of. There¡¯s a strong sheen of power to their arrangements¡ªthey¡¯re silky and soft looking. But I know there¡¯s more to them than meets the eye. Poking out behind it are wings covered in the same suspicious feathers.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    A long wiry neck wobbles with each glancing turn at the many potential opponents, but then its three disturbing eyes meet mine and bulge. I force myself to look elsewhere¡ªthe last thing I need is to challenge it one-on-one and make it hunt me specifically.

    If this is a royale, I¡¯d like to see what everyone is capable of.

    I already have some idea though; I¡¯ve taken on three Crimson-level Demons on my own before succumbing to my wounds. But that was then. I¡¯ve grown a bit since my first years in the desert and I¡¯m starting to get familiar with my body. Regardless of how reluctant I am, it¡¯s something I¡¯ve got to do if I want to accomplish anything here.

    In the end, this is a good thing.

    If I manage to win¡ªno, when I win, I¡¯ll be taking all their Crystals by right. Hargoil better not pull any funny business either, or I¡¯ll fucking take his too. More Crystals means more Essence, and if Hargoil is right, then that means more points.

    One more Demon lands in the ring, a slithering long Demon raised on its stomach. It hisses at everyone, its mouth filled with sharp teeth. Its claws are like small daggers, and I can tell that it¡¯s going to be a threat from the start.

    This Demon is a lot like the [Tokek] Demons I intimidated at the entrance¡ªa snake with batlike wings longer than they probably should be. Its skin is a dark brown and it has a forked tongue. But the thing that sets it apart is the two long spikes protruding from its back; they¡¯re as thick as my forearm and can shoot out to impale whatever gets close enough to them.

    Right from the start with its flapping entrance it oozes Essence¡ªthick, rich Essence. The kind clearly not on my level, and as such, I¡¯m not surprised to find nothing identifying the Demon in front of me.

    Definitely a Blood Orange level.

    And one that¡¯s stronger than Gerim as well. I bring my racing mind to a halt: there are only two reasons why a Demon of this level would toss itself into a ring of Crimsons.

    Either it¡¯s here to mediate¡ªif mediation in a royale can be achieved¡ªor it¡¯s here to take us all on.

    The latter seems more likely.

    I look around the ring, seeing how the other Demons react to the new arrival. They¡¯re not happy about it, but none of them are fighting it either. Demons have proven to have one-track minds and I¡¯ve displayed said qualities as well¡ªalways thirsty for more Essence, more flesh and power to consume. But that doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re stupid, far from it.

    Every Demon I¡¯ve come across has acted in a way that¡¯ll guarantee them the most from an encounter... even if it means throwing themselves and letting someone else get in on all the fun first.

    The tense silence that follows the Demon¡¯s entrance isn¡¯t a coincidence¡ªeveryone is watching each other, waiting and even baiting others for the first lethal move on the serpentine Demon.

    But nothing happens; instead, the Demon slithers along and her voice booms within our heads. ¡°The rules remain unchanged! With Calridian¡¯s blessings the last one standing wins it all!¡±

    A mediator then.

    ¡°As always, Calridian is due a percentage of all earnings... or if he wishes, all of it. All agreed? This will be the first and final chance to leave the ring!¡± The Demon stares down everyone, her eyes piercing, daring a single coward to step out.

    As much as I want out...

    It sounds like a good enough deal, a head start on my growth and one I¡¯ll need before I head out to deal with this Morthul Demon. Gritting my teeth, I watch as no one steps up to take the lifeline. The Demon nods and stares up the pit at the Demons congregating the audience.

    ¡°Place your bets now. No takebacks, no refunds!¡±

    The mediator makes a gesture and someone pours down a pile of crawlers, similar to the kind that creep around Calridian¡¯s lair but much smaller. They make themselves scarce, out of sight, and some even dig into the ground. Before I can ponder what they¡¯d be needed for in a pit fight, the Demon yells, ¡°Make a good show of it!¡±

    The ring vibrates with violence the next moment¡ªa claw snaps down where I stood a second ago, the assailing Demon a three-legged hybrid between a scorpion and spider. Its long tail swings about and the stinger at its tip shoots out, impaling a Demon behind me. It screams in agony, twisting and turning as the venom eats into its body.

    Eyes wide and alert, I see the claws of another Demon closing in on my position and throw myself back, avoiding the attack with ease. But there are Demons on every side of me, some buzzing through the air delivering stings and acid spits, others swinging from the chains overhead with claws extended, tearing flesh and sending blood splattering everywhere.

    Worse yet are the hounding voices.

    ¡°Dodge it!¡±

    ¡°Kill him now!¡±

    ¡°Yes! Yes! Yes!¡±

    The psychic bombardment from the audience is enough to rattle my senses, and I find myself unable to focus on anything other than the onslaught of unsolicited battle advice. I grit my teeth and try to shut it all off, deafening myself to the telepathic messages.

    Before I can manage to complete the shut down, a Demon slams into me from the side, knocking me into a pillar. A gush of air escapes my lungs and the Demon grabs me by the neck. Its claws digg deep into my flesh as I try to twist away, but it has a firm grip on me.

    It¡¯s a [Kahri], a humanoid-insect Demon I can¡¯t identify. It¡¯s got three other arms, two holding onto the fresh corpses of different Demons and a pair of bulging white eyes that may or may not be separated. Thin wings buzz on its shoulders as it presses me against a pillar, mouth drooling.

    Cursing my carelessness, I beat against its arm and kick at it, but it doesn¡¯t even twitch. The Demon grins and bites down into my shoulder, scarfing down on my flesh. I cry out and try to punch it now that it¡¯s close, but it dodges the attack and my fist merely catches the side of its head.

    I don¡¯t dare let up though. I continue to slam and pound against it, even as it takes hungrier bites out of me. My desperation grows as behind it the chaos of the royale begins to find us. The [Udele] I picked out earlier snaps through Demons one by one on a steady path toward us.

    ¡°Aargh!¡± I let out a desperate scream and flood my single arm with all the Essence I can manage and smash it against the [Kahri¡¯s] head, leaving a good dent in it, enough that it lets up on its feast.

    The [Udele] approaches from behind and grabs my assailant by the shoulder. The vulture-headed Demon makes a show of ripping out the [Kahri¡¯s] wings and tossing them aside before lifting the Demon itself and setting off into the air with its own feathered wings.

    The [Udele] caws as I fall free to the ground and watch. Flapping a few feet in the air above the chaos, the [Udele] draws on either limb of the wingless [Kahri], delivering further mutilation as it pulls out two of its arms and lets it drop to the floor, instant prey for the others.

    Fucking hell.

    There¡¯s only one thing I can do to not die now.

    With the threat of the [Udele] above me now, I grab on all mana and set it on course as I chant, ¡°Wekt! Wekt! Wekt! Wekt!¡±

 Interlude: Calridian

    Stern eyes parse through the text written on the hovering scroll. Scowl deepening, he turns and leers at the bowed Demon. ¡°And this is what she¡¯s accomplished?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lord. I got it personally from our spies. They retrieved it from the Queen¡¯s personal lair,¡± the humanoid Blood Orange Demon reports.

    Calridian, the shapeshifting minor Demon, narrows his eyes at the text, a vexed snarl escaping his wrinkled bat face. ¡°There¡¯s barely any difference from what I¡¯m crafting now... seems the Queen isn¡¯t too far off.¡±

    He growls, ¡°The only thing that concerns me is how long she¡¯s been working on it. She¡¯s far more skilled than I am. I¡¯d hoped for some time before she reached my level.¡±

    ¡°Lord, if I may? I don¡¯t think we should worry about her too much.¡±

    Calridian, growling, rumbles, ¡°You think she¡¯s weak? Weaker than our forces?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say weaker, Lord, but... we are better equipped. As I¡¯ve said, we have the advantage of numbers and better fighters and weapons.¡±

    Calridian scoffs. ¡°You miss the point of my recent endeavors and their significance, Eveal.¡±

    His minion shrinks, enough panic racing through it that its thoughts soak out into Calridian¡¯s prying mind. Calridian sets the scroll down, releasing it from his telekinetic grip and turns to the sprawled, wet, bloody pieces of the Dawern.

    ¡°She¡¯s only a step behind now. If that spellwork is correct, she¡¯s only missing a medium to focus the spell¡¯s Key. And what better medium than ichor?¡±

    Eveal gasps, four bead black eyes snapping to the Dawern. ¡°The Dawern¡¯s ichor?¡±

    ¡°Exactly, Eveal. It¡¯s the best for this tier of spell crafting. With it, she¡¯ll be able to cast and craft powerful Spells, and with much less effort. We have the Dawern in its entirety¡ªwhat¡¯s the one spell we¡¯ve been yearning for?¡±

    It takes Eveal less than a second to adopt a wide grin and brimming pride for his master¡¯s genius. ¡°You mean it?¡±

    It¡¯s not often Calridian smiles, but since Gerim brought back that Faithless Demon he¡¯s been smiling a lot more. He does so now as well, confirming his minion¡¯s suspicions. ¡°Yes, Planar Travel.¡±

    For decades and perhaps even a century Calridian¡¯s thirst to rise beyond his station has gone unsated. At first he tried to obtain the knowledge required to uplift himself, the spell to fuse Blood Orange Crystals into Maroon, but that was overreaching.

    Having the knowledge to do so wouldn¡¯t fix the gross amount of Essence the very layer retook for its own, a tax for living upon every Demon in Reais. The patience required to reach Dark Red with the abhorrent amount of power lost is nonexistent within Calridian, especially with the Queen¡¯s continuous challenge and the Demon Lord¡¯s growing demands.

    ¡°Lord, will you send me in on your behalf?¡± Eveal¡¯s eagerness to prove himself rolls out of the deepest corners of his heart. The Demon is one of the few Calridian finds loyal, one of the few he can rattle on about his plans for domination without fear of betrayal.

    Calridian doesn¡¯t answer right away, letting his minion stew in its own excitement and curiosity. ¡°No, Eveal, I need you here in case she tries something.¡±

    Eveal¡¯s grin fades. ¡°In case she tries something? You think she might try to attack?¡±

    Calridian shakes his head; loyal as the Demon is, he¡¯s far from the brightest among the ranks. ¡°No, she wouldn¡¯t bother with an attack, neither of us can anyway. This is a race, Eveal. Whoever unlocks the secret to Planar Travel first will be far too busy conquering the new worlds to bother with the Demons of this layer.¡±

    Calridian¡¯s grin grows at the thought of bypassing the Demon Lord. Such arcane knowledge would win the Demon Lord¡¯s favor, but sucking up has never been a talent of his. Besides, there¡¯s no way the Demon Lord would let him possess such power, not when the Greater Lords of the Fire and Acid Divides still stand¡ªhe¡¯d be creating another rival if he did.

    Calridian¡¯s contentment with the Demon Lords¡¯ slow trickle of power is short: having barely grown in half a century irks him. But now, with the Dawern¡¯s ichor and all the spell crafting research, Calridian is ready for a new chapter of his life¡ªhis rise to power.

    ¡°We can¡¯t let the Queen beat me to it, Eveal. In fact, we must delay all progress toward her success.¡±

    Eveal, the four-eyed bipedal Warrior Demon, picks himself up from his kneeling position, twirling a long spear between his three fingers. ¡°I¡¯m ready, Lord, give me a target!¡±

    ¡°At the moment the Queen is still the Queen, and I can¡¯t risk the benefits of our current arrangement. But if you¡¯re so eager, Eveal, why don¡¯t you increase the monitors we have on her?¡±

    Eveal nods, ¡°Yes, Lord.¡±

    With a flick of his wrist, Calridian summons a portal to the Queen¡¯s location. Eveal steps through without a word, grateful to be rid of the stress of traveling across the desert. The portal snaps out of existence behind him, leaving Calridian to prepare.

    He bounds across the lair, his towering ape-tentacled figure shrinking. Masses of thick, long, spiked limbs condense into a new form. Now a bright-looking man of tough physique, the muscles in his arms bulge and shift as he tucks them behind his back.

    His hands brush against the waist-length hair on his head and he tilts forward, sprouting extra arms and packs the streaked black and whites across his shoulders. With a clap of these hands, the empty white stairs circling the wide lair begin to part and a path leading into a room is revealed.

    The stairs scratch against the corners, startling many of the little crawlers sifting through and arranging his ever-growing mess as he struts in. The room itself is much larger than Calridian ever needed, but it was made several centuries ago when he first created a [Domain] and founded the city. He¡¯s dealt with what was a rash choice at the time in stride, ever torn between changing the space and leaving it as a reminder of how weak he used to be¡ªhow gullible he was.

    Calridian reaches the end of the stairs, pausing at the edge of the wide-open space. It is a place of order, the only space in his domain that is. Every inch of the room is perfectly organized, from the Crystal jars and vials, to the books lining the shelves, to the glass tank filled with fluid and a few exotic Demons. It is a place of calm, a place where he can focus on the task at hand.

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    A place where he can fall into himself once again.

    It¡¯s been a long while since he¡¯s taken this form, his original skin. He¡¯d long discarded it after founding the city and entering the Demon Lord¡¯s court as a General. The power he wields remains ever imposing, even in this smaller form, but for some reason respect was a difficult thing to find within the court.

    Calridian catches his reflection in the tall glass panels of his experimental aquarium and smiles as lost memories resurface at the sight of his long, pointed ears. He walks to the tank, pulling himself up on the side of the glass, staring down into the water.

    The aquatic Demons hiss and snap at him; they are the most dangerous of the lot. He¡¯d tried to make pets out of them once, but their intelligence proved too great and he had to kill them all before they could escape. Now they¡¯re his test subjects, his reluctant minions and experiments.

    ¡°Bring in the Dawern,¡± he mutters and levitates one of the Demons from their tank. Outside the room his many crawlers snap to work, coordinating to lift the heavy pieces of the Dawern.

    While Calridian gathers the rest of the materials needed to complete his spell, the crawlers drag the pieces of the Dawern into the room. They set it down, placing it on a raised platform at the center of the room.

    Calridian steps forward and the crawlers disperse at his feet. With a beckoning gesture, a deep Blood Orange Crystal rises from the pile and zips toward his awaiting hand.

    With the aquatic Demon out of its habitat, it flops onto the floor, shaking violently as it tries to right itself. Calridian lets the Crystal hover before him, shutting his eyes to dig deep within himself.

    Letting out a tense breath, he makes the choice to destroy the Crystal. At this level it wouldn¡¯t give him much strength, especially with Reais¡¯ tax. The Crystal shudders in place as cracks begin to run throughout its frame.

    As Essence begins to leak and pour out of it, Calridian hums a tune. ¡°Aa aa, mm mm, aa aa, mm mm.¡± The Crystal continues to crack and shudder with every hum, leaking more and more Essence.

    At this Calridian adds the next, delicate Key required. ¡°Mm mm, jaiu yuai, aa aa, ksee bakin.¡±

    The reaction is immediate¡ªthe Crystal crackles and spasms. It bursts apart, spilling a thick cloud of red and orange that partly obscures Calridian¡¯s vision. The cloud seeps into the air, taking on a life of its own, moving and dancing.

    He continues humming, his voice growing stronger and more powerful. He raises his hand and parts the cloud of Essence in two, mixing large amounts of mana with the motion.

    ¡°Aa aa, mm mm, har chek, har mel.¡± At the next Key, the bloody slice of Dawern on the platform twitches violently, one part of the cloud seeps into the piece, and the twitching worsens.

    Calridian takes another breath, letting his voice grow stronger still. ¡°Kte bak, shi teng, aa aa, mm mm.¡±

    The piece of Dawern continues to twitch, its ichor pooling around it, mixing with the cloud and forming a sickening red goo. The Minor Lord hums, ¡°Mm mm, oi nag, oi nag, mm mm,¡± and the aquatic Demon is raised into the air, possessed by the second half of the cloud.

    Calridian huffs and prepares himself for the hardest part yet, the part he¡¯s been stuck on for decades now. With the Dawern¡¯s rich ichor this hurdle should be easier to clear. He focuses, drawing on his mana and Essence.

    ¡°Aa aa, mm mm, har chek, har mel.¡± He begins to hum, ¡°Kte bak, shi teng, aa aa, mm mm.¡±

    The lair rumbles, the atmosphere thick with the energy of the spell. With the force of his combined mana and Essence, Calridian pushes the two together until the transforming aquatic Demon resides in the dark red goo. Its life ends immediately as crackling forces pull it apart, blending and dissolving it within the goo.

    A final time he hums, ¡°Kte bak, shi teng, aa aa, mm mm.¡±

    With a loud boom, the goo expands, stretching across in a wide oval shape radiating the energy, the life of a new, untouched Realm. Calridian huff and pants, grinning as he basks in the blue light beaming through the new portal.

    [Spell Unlocked: Planar Travel; Ire Realms]

    [Ire Realms¡ª Unclaimed, Contested Mortal Realm]

    ¡°I¡¯ve done it! I¡¯ve done it!¡± he yells with excitement.

    His eyes turn to the rest of the room, a wave of satisfaction washing over him and his crawler servants. They chirp and squeal, sharing his excitement. It was a long time coming, but he did it. He¡¯s finally made the connection to the Mortal Realm...  or at least, one of them.

    At last, a Realm obeying different laws. He glances over to the pile of Crystals gathered in his layer, their value suddenly increased. If Reais¡¯ influence over Essence is mitigated or even nullified in different Realms, then he can finally absorb them for their worth. He¡¯d become Dark Red¡ªno, Blood Red before long.

    And then... he¡¯d conquer and be worshipped. Attain divinity and... and... Calridian pulls back, his grin splitting wide now. ¡°Bwhahahahahah!¡±

    There¡¯s so much more power to be had.

    Tentatively, he steps forward, an arm stretched out to pierce the tense veil of the portal and set out into the new world he¡¯s set to conquer. Little sparks of lightning arc off it and his fingers as he reaches. It tickles, but Calridian doesn¡¯t find any of what happens next funny. Again, he pushes his hand out, poking at the veil, but only sparks streak off of it.

    [!!!]

    [Contested Mortal Realm!]

    [Minor Connection¡ª Nil]

    [Greater Connection¡ª Nil]

    He can¡¯t get through.

    ¡°No¡­ no¡­ NO!¡± he yells, the sudden loss of hope crushing him. ¡°Why? Why! I have to get through!¡± He grits his teeth, clenching his fists and flexing his fingers, trying to push past the veil.

    And he does. His arm spears through the portal, destabilizing it. He screams and leaps back, looking at the portal with horror.

    The portal is gone.

    ¡°No¡­ no¡­ NOOOOO!¡± he yells, and stomps, creating a large crater in the ground. The crawlers chirp and squeal, jumping around in circles. Calridian grumbles and turns to them, glaring down at them.

    ¡°Get out of here, you filthy creatures.¡±

    He walks away from the hole he made and sits on the ground, rubbing his face.

    He should have known. This is still Reais¡ªnothing will ever be easy, nothing will ever be given on a silver platter. He was foolish to think otherwise.

    The crawlers continue to chatter, squealing and chirping, running about in circles. They¡¯re too stupid to understand the danger they¡¯re in.

    Calridian huffs. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll just have to go another way.¡±

    In hindsight it makes sense: of course it makes sense. There¡¯s no way there aren¡¯t systems or tough requirements to be met when moving to other Realms. Especially for beings of his level crossing into a Mortal Realm. He chuckles slightly, shaking his head.

    Of course he¡¯d have to do things the hard way.

    But it shouldn¡¯t be too bad, it only means he¡¯ll once again have to rely on the capabilities of weaker creatures. Besides, all he requires is a minor connection to the Realm, something strong enough to tether his power... his demonic Essence to.

    Over the course of his years, he¡¯s watched Demon Lords and heard of the cults formed in other planes in worship of their name... worship. Yes, the power of faith will of course be the thing to release him from Reais.

    ¡°But how do I get mortals to worship me?¡±

    He¡¯s thought about it before; in fact, every Demon aware of the powers that lie with faith has. The thought of becoming a Deity, of being venerated. He¡¯s already got some ideas, there¡¯s always the path of fear... but mortals, they enjoy being taken care of.

    He¡¯s barely gotten anywhere with his musings when he hears the large doors creak open and a minion calls out, ¡°Lord¡­? Lord?¡±

    ¡°What is it!¡± he snaps from within the sequestered and partly destroyed secret room.

    The minion falters, unnerved by the clear tinge of displeasure thickening the atmosphere. ¡°Uh, there¡¯s someone here for you, a Demon calling itself Nil. The Human-looking one.¡±

    Calridian huffs. ¡°Probably coming to tell me they¡¯ve failed the Spell. Gerim was right, they are weak.¡±

    The minion hesitates but corrects his assumption nonetheless, ¡°Uh, they¡¯re here to give you your share of the winnings, as well as take theirs.¡±

    This brings pause and an unsure look to Calridian. ¡°Winnings?¡±

    ¡°The pit, Lord. Nil won the Crimson Royale.¡±

 Step 7- Preparation

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 5years, 4months

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.5¡ª 140.9esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 20

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 22

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry], [Faithless Essence Amplification]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 0]

    Traits: [Armoured Form]- Lvl.1, [Greater Cognizance]- Lvl.1, [Psychic Resistance]- Lvl.3, [Quick Mold]- Lvl.1

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: [Invisibility]- Lvl.1

    Patron: Nil

    <hr>

    [Spell Unlocked!]

    [Invisibility]- Lvl.1

    For a split second the entire pit is silent, as if time itself has stopped. Then the wind rushes back in, and the battle roars with renewed fury.

    The first spell I cast, my very first spell ever, is my most powerful one.

    I¡¯m invisible.

    The [Udele¡¯s] vicious display set everyone on pause, but between Demons the peace can only last so long. Quick on my feet, I¡¯ve already dashed toward the far side of the pit, far away before it can start searching for me¡ªjust to be safe.

    Skipping over the flung body of a Demon, I set out to take quick advantage of the definite boon I¡¯ve cashed in. Right in my sights are a plethora of targets. My muscles ripple tensely as I pull back on a swing, a large burst of Essence flooding through them.

    Heavy as an anvil, my fist¡¯s power shoots through the carapace exoskeleton of a Crimson-level [Greier]. The six-legged crawler staggers and stumbles from the rattling blow.

    I don¡¯t a wait another second, the [Greier¡¯s] victim is left weak. Leaping to it, I perform the same sharp burst of Essence and spear through the bleeding [Adar]. Its wide shielded head proves brittle to the strike. For an uncomfortable second my focused hand is stuck in its husk, but I quickly whip it out in time to find a prong-horned Demon charging toward me.

    Another Demon behind me roars at the challenge, rustling off the clinging guts on its long, clawed forelegs.

    Before either of them can trample me, the prong-horned Demon halts, staggering against its own momentum as it startles, its head turned to its stomach. A light purple light begins to crawl over it, enveloping its entire body.

    The other Demon gives up on the fight and starts running away, leaving me and a few interested Demons to watch as the Demon¡¯s entire being succumbs to the light.

    My body tenses as I watch the purple light crawl along the body of the beast, startled yet again in a short span of time. The tingling sensation of the light as it prickles my skin identifies it as mana. The squealing Demon vanishes along with the light before anyone can react to it, and despite the random disintegration of their combatant, none of the Demons are fazed.

    As quick as they¡¯d paused, they resume measuring each other up and attacking one another. Charges are met, acid spat, and lean spikes shot. With the series of unfortunate distractions, the royale picks up in earnest once more, though not before serving me well. Invisible to the eye, I continue to evade the Demons¡¯ sights. I¡¯m free to wait this out under the safety of my magic.

    The dead [Adar] lies beside me, and a pause to eat and transform would be great. I already know what to replicate too: its broad face shields will do nicely.

    The rest of the pit is busy with its own battle, Demons all over the place. There¡¯s death on every side and I get to simply watch, prepare, and pick off whatever is left of the mess.

    Feeling at my [Soul Crystal], I get a rough vibe of how much mana I have left to spend.

    And I can cast the spell two more times if I need to.

    Pleased with myself, I quickly tear into the [Adar], peeling and crushing its armor between my palms before swallowing it whole with a large bite out of its stomach. The residue of Essence in its flesh and the unique quality of the natural shield melts on my tongue, manipulating the Essence within my Crystal to start the transformation.

    The task is much smoother; pulling Essence from the [Soul Crystal] usually has me tugging harder than this. The muscles and skin on my arm stretches, thickens, then hardens as it sticks out an inch further. An extension of my shape bulges with Essence as a working imitation of the [Adar¡¯s] shield. I attribute the quick and smooth work to my higher level and my trait [Quick Mold].

    I¡¯m almost done when something crawling out of the [Adar¡¯s] corpse catches my attention. A pair of red eyes sitting on a heavily armored, tiny head look up at me. With six spread insect legs stabbing into the [Adar¡¯s] flesh for stability, it squeals and nearly drops the gleaming Crimson Crystal trapped in its claws.

    Before the image of a thieving crawler registers in my mind, the little fiend scutters away, burrowing in the earth as it escapes me. What the fuck is¡ª

    My senses blare as a presence looms behind me. I whip around to meet the [Udele¡¯s] frightening eyes. Its curved neck vibrates with a fury I¡¯ve only met in Gerim¡ªexcept this time I¡¯m brutally attacked.

    Before I can leap out of its reach, the [Udele] lurches out with its feathered arms and slices clean through my ankle and tendons. With a useless limb, I sprawl onto the floor, panic racing through me.

    How can it see me?

    I crawl some distance away and even trip one of the fighting Demons to its death. I turn. Searching my senses, I still feel that my spell is active, and the Demons I¡¯ve crawled past don¡¯t bother me. If I¡¯m still invisible, then how...

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    Glancing back the [Udele] stands, still heaving and panting. Whoever its enemies were after the [Kahri], they didn¡¯t go down without a fight. But they still went down, and that fact, as well as the [Udele¡¯s] brutal show of dominance, has killed the idea of anyone going after it, especially not with everyone else being a significant threat to life.

    So now it roams, unbothered and free to pick off weaklings and steal kills as it pleases¡ªand now it¡¯s after me. Narrowing my eyes at it, I notice something... it can¡¯t see me. It caws and snaps its head around: sniffing me out.

    Fuck!

    There¡¯s more to the sense that¡¯s guiding it toward me, even after I¡¯ve raised a veil between the light and myself. It reaches out and I sense the distortion in mana around it as it steps forward, first way off to the left, where it bumps and snaps the neck of a stray Demon, and then closer, narrower. As though being fed instructions on my exact location.

    Magic, I curse with a groan, thinking of Fanacle and Hargoil. Of course it¡¯d have magic. Is that why he took me there first? So I¡¯d at least stand even with everyone?

    Whatever Hargoil¡¯s intentions were, I¡¯d have preferred it if he gave me warning first. With all the chaos, the scattering corpses, the crawlers, and the vanishing purple light, I¡¯ve gotten lax. Invisible or not, there¡¯s always danger in this place.

    The Udele takes another step, this time with its talons digging into the ground. A growl rumbles from its throat as it steps forward again. The Demon is quickly sniffing me out, and the longer I stand here the closer it gets. I retreat further into the chaos, my [Invisibility] letting me weave through the weaker Demons.

    If they can¡¯t sniff me out like it can, they¡¯re less important.

    With little to no one daring to go after the [Udele], the fact is the mob will kill themselves long before they rally together and take it down. If that¡¯s the case, then taking my invisibility into the equation... this royale won¡¯t end until one of us kills the other.

    The [Udele] must¡¯ve realized this as well, perhaps long before me, or it could just be killing everything slightly in its reach like it continues to do, biting into the neck of a Demon as it does now. The poor sap latched in its beak squeals, its wing fluttering wildy in pointless flails.

    My attention on the [Udele¡¯s] next meal is drawn away as my feet bump into something. I¡¯m all the way over on the edge of the pit now, where somehow all the corpses and body parts are tucked aside¡ªthe culprits none other than the crawlers unleashed in the pit, hard at work picking Crystals off the dead and setting them to the side.

    Got to make a good show of it, I sneer at the Demon at my feet, crawling over to the next pile of corpses. A runaway, eh?

    And a familiar one too. The crawling Demon has the same idea I do¡ªhide. The Demon is familiar looking, a [Khozuik], the same type of Demon as Gerim. The spikes on its back are shorter, much so. It has the same clawed paws with a forest of quills sticking out of the little pores on the front.

    A good weapon.

    I¡¯m well aware of the precious time I¡¯m wasting by hiding. I¡¯ll have to go on the offensive eventually, but there¡¯s no reason I can¡¯t hide and attack.

    Launching at the cowardly [Khozuik], it literally never sees me coming. My arm spears through its chest and it shrieks, a cry that dies instantly as my hand cuts off its air. It spasms, clawing at my arm as I yank it out and slam it down into the ground.

    That was easy.

    [Crimson Soul Crystal]- Lvl. 4(8esq)

    [Absorb] [Destroy]

    I do neither, letting it drop to the floor in favor of the fistful of [Khozuik] flesh. I don¡¯t want to find out what comes for rule breakers in the pit; besides, it would only draw attention.

    The [Khozuik¡¯s] flesh is chewy, string-like, and very salty. I don¡¯t mind, the surge of foreign Essence mixes with mine and my right hand begins transforming into a crude copy.

    Even with the new [Traits], there are some things that remain a hurdle. I¡¯ll manage.

    I¡¯m not nearly done with my preparations either. I skirt over to a further pile of corpses as the [Udele¡¯s] rampage approaches me. For the moment I¡¯m granted a reprieve; it¡¯s shifted its focus to ending everyone else in sight.

    Go ahead, keep fighting and tire yourself out, you fucking ugly bird, I seethe inwardly, pushing all my focus into molding my hand into the best replica of the [Khozuik¡¯s] quill-ridden paw. It¡¯s a tougher task than I thought: my attention is split between maintaining the mimicry of the [Adar¡¯s] shield on my left arm and creating a new mimicry.

    Should I... no time.

    I let the transformed shield collapse back into my left arm and my current transformation speeds up, improving. With Invisibility and the quills I shouldn¡¯t have any reason to get close enough to warrant a shield. No point in having it drag behind me then.

    With the transformation done, I switch my focus to the last bit of preparation before I head in to face the hounding Demons when a voice pierces through the wall in my head. ¡°You¡¯re very lucky. Hide as long as you want, bu¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± I cut off Hargoil¡¯s grating voice once more. With so many things to focus on with Essence, I¡¯m slipping up in major areas. Gritting my teeth, I pull on my mana once more and quickly chant, ¡°Wekt. Wekt. Wekt. Wekt.¡±

    Chanting the Key under my breath is sufficient enough to renew the spell before it expires. I take a breath and ready myself. All my advantages in place, I launch back into the fray. Except, with all the time I¡¯ve spent behind piles of corpses, the pit is nearly cleaned out. Only the [Udele], a one-armed [Lardoa], and a trio of flying [Cuileag] remain.

    I let myself grin as the advantage of the spell becomes obvious. They¡¯re all tired¡ªaggressive and strong, sure, but tired nonetheless. I recall experiencing a similar exhaustion when I fought against the three Demons who greeted me in the desert months ago. It¡¯s the only kind of exhaustion Demons experience, the blatant lack of spendable Essence.

    Every one of them has some terrible injury or another. The [Udele] being the exception, but the multitudes of scratches and gashes across its feathered chest and face tally up. The [Lardoa] experiences perhaps the worst handicap, and when the stalemate breaks I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be the first to go down¡ªa thought that gladdens me, It¡¯s easy to envision the one-armed Demon as Hargoil instead; they¡¯re from the same armored beetle species.

    Did Calridian create you too?

    I don¡¯t let the thought expand past that as the [Cuileags] buzz up and around each other. The trio seem to have come to some sort of agreement to kill everyone who isn¡¯t them before fighting for the win themselves. Only two of the yellow-colored bugs have legs, and the last has a good chunk of their torso ripped off.

    Never mind, it¡¯s going down first. And I¡¯m the one killing it.

    When three long quills erupt from the sides of my right arm, the air fills with a hiss and I see the yellow insect turn toward me. It isn¡¯t given the chance to attack or even react to my attack, but its acute sense of danger catches me off guard. For a split moment I hesitate, but that¡¯s all the time the others need to start moving.

    The [Udele] dashes ahead, seeking me out with a single whiff of the air. It¡¯d been picking up on my scent since the stalemate begun no doubt. In a knee-jerk reaction, I somehow manage to evade both the charging [Udele] and the one-armed [Lardoa¡¯s] javelin strike on it. Having no disillusions, the [Lardoa] stabs clean through the [Udele¡¯s] stomach. No longer unscathed, the [Udele] screeches its feathered arms, flailing in panic before bringing them together in a fist¡ªa fist that breaks into the [Lardoa¡¯s] hard carapace-armored body.

    Cracks stream throughout and brim with blood, but the [Lardoa] isn¡¯t down for the count yet. In a last stand, it summons many spikes through its body, an effect I¡¯m sure costs its remaining Essence. The [Udele] shrieks before smacking the body away, huffing, barely repairing its wounds with Essence.

    Now¡¯s my chance!

    The [Lardoa] is done for, and the two [Cuileags] remaining have broken the truce between themselves. Typical of Demons. I¡¯m left with the weakened version of the terror behind that savage display. Do I even need [Invisibility] anymore?

    No. Not the time to get cocky. An attack can come out of nowhere, this isn¡¯t over.

    The [Udele] pants, heaving with stomping steps, its weight too heavy to carry. It¡¯s exhausted but somehow still powering through. My senses tingle again at its use of mana. Whatever spell it¡¯s casting allows it to meet my eyes as though my invisibility were gone.

    But it isn¡¯t.

    ¡°Alright, fuck you.¡±

    I get off my feet, dashing at it. I set my attention on its eyes. Its eyes track me slowly as I dash from place to place, but it has a short lag between each dash. And that¡¯s where I strike.

    Fueling the comparatively bountiful amounts of Essence into my arm, I launch out a flurry of quills at it. Rather than back away¡ªrun¡ªit does the opposite. With what I recognize well to be a desperate last stand ,the [Udele] springs itself toward me, tanking my quills by sacrificing its feathered arms. It succeeds.

    With its remaining hands it snaps at me, catching my neck and pulling me into the air. But its face is already filled with quills. Shouldn¡¯t have come so close.

    Dead, it drops me, and I huff. On the other side the [Cuileags] have almost decided who I¡¯m going to kill next, but I don¡¯t let them¡ªI want this over. Going the extra mile to dash and boost my jump with a flood of Essence, spending just as much straining the mimicry to produce the absurd amount of quills, I set out on the vulnerable Demons.

    It¡¯s over before they know it. When I land I disperse the spell¡ªwith little time left on the clock. With all eyes on me, the telepathic blockers I put up shatter¡ª he combined assault of all the telepathic Demons doesn¡¯t give me a chance to put up a fight.

    ¡°Lord Crimson!¡±

    ¡°Lord Crimson!¡±

    ¡°Lord Crimson! Lord Crimson! Lord Crimson!¡±

    The chanting goes on and on and on, crippling my mind to the point that struggling against it becomes futile. And so I let it all in.

    ¡°I am the Lord Crimson!¡±

 Step 7- Preparation (P2)

    Marching down the sandy streets with the mediator ahead of me¡ªshe slithers along, her bat-like wings folded and arm-length spikes keeping me a good distance away from her.

    I would walk beside her, but I¡¯m distracted. The city¡ªthe Demons aren¡¯t the same. All around as we pass, the Demons who¡¯d bare their teeth and ooze off enough hostility to make me quicken my pace and brace¡­ they¡¯re all but docile now.

    That said, I am getting interested looks from others, the kind far more threatening than the Demons I¡¯d look out for on a daily basis. Demons well into the highest levels of Crimson Essence, and especially those reeking the same levels Gerim and the mediator ahead of me do.

    They¡¯re¡­ interested?

    ¡°They are,¡± the mediator says, and I grimace at being so easily read. ¡°And so am I.¡±

    ¡°You are? What do you mean?¡±

    She doesn¡¯t turn back at me, keeping the pace all while speaking. ¡°You¡¯re the Lord Crimson now, word travels fast. Your bullies no longer see a benefit in picking on you. In fact, they¡¯re wary. And your betters¡ªwell, with the forthcoming battles they¡¯ll want to have a good Demon on their squad. Much like I do, Lord Crimson.¡±

    Lord Crimson¡­

    From the psychic bombardment I experienced after the fight, I could barely do anything but accept the will of the audience. I know I¡¯m the Lord Crimson, but it¡¯s the significance of the title that evades me.

    She senses this. ¡°I understand you were lured into the pit by a squad member. Na?ve, but you¡¯re quite young and new here, so I¡¯ll fill you in so you don¡¯t embarrass yourself in front of Lord Calridian.¡±

    Blasted Hargoil. I may have made a fuss trying to leave the pit before time to search for him. Worst of all, because I didn¡¯t get to leave¡ªthanks to the mediator¡¯s defining presence and rigid need for procedure¡ªthe bastard got away.

    ¡°You¡¯re still the farthest thing from any sort of royalty, so don¡¯t expect reverence of any sort.¡±

    I snap away from my thoughts as she starts giving the breakdown, mind open and eager to capture as much as possible from her.

    ¡°Being Lord Crimson means little to outsiders, but if you¡¯re in the service of Calridian or any of the Noble Generals, then you would care about it. The Lord Crimson, much like the Lord Orange, is chosen through battle for a singular purpose.¡±

    At this, she slows her pace enough that I nearly stab into the spikes protruding from her back. Ahead is Calridian¡¯s lair, the single solid structure in the city.

    ¡°And that purpose is to gain the attention of a Noble General, and ours is Lord Calridian. In the coming war there¡¯s going to be a need for exceptional fighters, and you¡¯ve proved yourself worthy of his boon by defeating all others in the pit.¡±

    A mixture of surprise and excitement come over me. Surprise, because I hadn¡¯t known there was a coming war, and excitement at the prospect of reaping even more rewards from the conniving Demon.

    ¡°Can I choose my boon?¡± I ask, knowing exactly what to ask for. The secrets he¡¯s withholding about the Deities will be enough.

    She stops just short of the lair and at last turns to face me. Being more powerful than Gerim even, her stare is imposing. I almost flare up with Essence to protect myself before catching the impression of scorn and disappointment she exudes.

    ¡°In the last war I crawled out of the pit and was recognized as Lord Crimson. Right afterward I prostrated before Lord Calridian, our Lord, and sought his judgement. He saw fit to grant me powers beyond what I¡¯d known and charged me with the mediation of the royale.¡±

    She heaves, wings twitching. ¡°Do not dare assume a sense of entitlement, Lord Crimson. The wild masses betting on your head to roll aren¡¯t what ordain you to your station¡ªhe is.¡±

    There¡¯s nothing else to do but nod. It¡¯s rare¡ªthis much devotion, loyalty. If all Blood Orange are like her, then Demons may not be as disorganized as I thought. Calridian may be a fiend I¡¯m latching onto until I can get out of this hell and enact my revenge, but he is still Lord.

    She nods as well, but then as she gestures to one of the rather tall and wide Demon guards at the door to the lair she adds, ¡°I take back what I said about being interested in you. You may remain with your vile, backstabbing squad mates or join whatever poor squad leader thinks you worth the risk.¡±

    By the tone and impression of the words, I can tell she means it to be a slight. But I couldn¡¯t care less if Gerim or some other brutish Demon retains me in their squad. I don¡¯t care about any of this at all, no. Their war, whatever or whoever it¡¯s with, is the furthest thing from my mind.

    She leaves, and I¡¯m left with myself and the guards. One has disappeared into the lair, likely to announce my presence to Calridian, and the other simply stares straight ahead, a staff longer than its body held firm in its two left hands.

    With Calridian ahead of me, I set aside all the unimportant things the mediator Demon divulged and stir my interests to the surface of my thoughts.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    That purple light, the one that vanquished the Demon. The [Spells] and the weapon I asked for. The mission to kill¡ª

    The doors swing wide open and the second guard strides back out and gives me the nod to go in. I do, and almost immediately the doors close shut behind me as I stand at the top of the stairwell leading down into the main part of the lair.

    It¡¯s a mess, more so than usual. There¡¯s debris everywhere and¡­ Calridian is nowhere to be found. The shapeshifting hulk of mass I recognize as him is gone, but his suffocating presence isn¡¯t.

    ¡°Lord Crimson!¡± comes a holler from the left side of the lair, the farthest part of the room with a long circular row of stairs now¡­ split open? It¡¯s also the most damaged. The concrete beneath is a smashed crater pooling with a thick red ooze.

    It¡­ smells familiar.

    In the midst of all the chaos stands a man. A man.

    I blink at this. The man below, swishing through the ooze toward me, is no doubt Calridian¡ªeven transformed into the normalcy of a humanoid, he simply can¡¯t disguise his signature presence.

    Stark naked, Calridian strides forward and smiles up at me. Unlike the rippling muscles in his arms, his face seems to have nothing of the sort. Sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes complete a familiar image of a malnourished individual. Something within me cries and I frown, acknowledging the fleeting sensation of¡­ empathy as one of the few vestiges of my Human past.

    I know that pain. The waking nightmares won¡¯t stop tormenting me with glimpses of what I assume to be my past. Only I can never tell who I was in any of these nightmares, the plights of having no discernible gender.

    ¡°I sent you to learn a few Spells and you return to me as Lord Crimson.¡± His smile grows into a grin. ¡°I¡¯m impressed.¡±

    It¡¯s a strange thing to see his mouth move and an even stranger thing to hear my language come out of his mouth.

    I resist the downward twitch of my lip and keep a straight face, focusing on the reason I¡¯m here.

    He blinks, a wide range of disappointment and hurt flashing across his¡­ face. ¡°Oh you don¡¯t like me speaking this? I thought it¡¯d ease you.¡±

    I¡¯ve never been good at keeping my big mouth shut for long, so I snap, ¡°So you invade my mind and pick out one of the last things I know of my origins? To use against me I¡¯m sure.¡±

    He shakes his head, calmer and quite well put together for a naked man. ¡°Nonsense, if it bothers you so much, I¡¯ll stop.¡±

    ¡°Now that bothers me.¡±

    He reads my mind flagrantly and his grin grows even wider. Bellowing out a mad bout of laughter, he sighs. ¡°Oh¡­ so foolish these young ones. But I suppose your audacity is one of the many things that brought you in front of me again. Audacious enough to leap into the pit, risk your life and limb for¡­ my favor? No¡­ you were baited by my troublemaker son.¡±

    ¡°Son? Hargoil?¡±

    He shrugs, ¡°As much a son to me as these little ones.¡±

    Said little ones approach in multitudes, cooperating with one another to heave a rather large bag of¡­ Crystals. I begin to appreciate Hargoil¡¯s mischief a bit as the bag is set down next to Calridian.

    Hopping down the stairs, I start to approach what must be the rewards from the pit when Calridian steps in the way.

    What now?

    ¡°Now? Well, now I decide if you¡¯re worth the Crystals, or if I should simply keep them.¡±

    My eyes narrow at this. ¡°Why would that even be in question? You want Morthul dead, don¡¯t you? I¡¯m going to need a lot more than a few Spells and a weapon I think.¡±

    His grin drops and the overwhelming presence grows. ¡°There¡¯s a lot I want, Nil, but not a lot I deserve. It¡¯s the same for everyone, and it¡¯s the same for you. Fortunate for you, I get to judge if you deserve anything at all, and you get to be right in front of me as I do.¡±

    He leans in to emphasize his words, ¡°I don¡¯t think the Deities gave you that honor, now did they?¡±

    For the second time since we met, my head dips down in submission. He¡¯s right. The mediator was right too, right to honor and respect him.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I start, voice low and unchallenging, ¡°you¡¯re right and I should respect you for that. I think I¡¯m a very¡­ disregarding person.¡±

    His stern gaze softens and his impression gives off understanding. ¡°You¡¯re still discovering yourself¡­ rediscovering. I understand that, but for the moment my interests take priority.¡±

    He steps away, wet feet smacking the floor as he walks back into the ruined hideaway between the circling stairs. ¡°Before I give my judgement though, you were reciting some questions and propositions when you stepped in. You have my attention, Lord Crimson.¡±

    An open floor to speak.

    ¡°I saw a lot of things down there and met a lot of challenging opponents. Frankly, I don¡¯t think I would¡¯ve survived more than five minutes if it weren¡¯t for the [Invisibility] spell.¡±

    He nods, still listening as he puts on a ring and points it toward the pool of ooze. In a flash and burst of mana the ooze vanishes into the ring. It finally clicks what that smell is.

    The Dawern.

    ¡°I¡¯m grateful I learned it in time. Jumping straight into a battle for my life right afterward also helped me learn its limitations in time¡­¡± I trail off at the end, expecting him to cut me off and refute that his spell would have any sort of limitations.

    But he continues to stare down at some tank, so I take a deep breath and get on with it. ¡°¡­ these limitations are going to be a pain in the neck and a death sentence to me if I challenge someone like Morthul. I need more power, more than an enchanted weapon, because it won¡¯t matter how good it is if I¡¯m already too dead to use it.¡±

    Calridian nods, staring up at a Demon he ripped out of the tank. It squirms in the air above his head, held up by the same magic force reaching out past me. I sidestep out of the way as a scroll launches out of the shelf to hover in front of Calridian.

    ¡°So, what are you saying? What are you asking for?¡± he says, tone completely indifferent with absolutely no impression at all.

    He only ever lets off the emotions and thoughts he wants me to know. And that¡¯s just another reason he¡¯s dangerous. Unlike Hargoil, he doesn¡¯t have any sort of body language I can see through.

    Moments where I notice things like this always have me doubting my senses. What if he wants me to believe he can¡¯t leave and kill Morthul himself? What if everything has been a lie and he¡¯s the only one who gets to tell the truth?

    ¡°I¡­ I want the right to go into the desert and return whenever I want. Not just with Hargoil and Gerim. I need to anyway. I need to get stronger and I won¡¯t ask you to give me power for free, I¡¯ll earn it. I¡¯ll earn enough power to kill Morthul and come join whatever war you¡¯re having.¡±

    For a moment, the air is still and so is he. Then he moves, looks at me with those dead, sickly eyes, and grins. The grin doesn¡¯t follow any impression of amusement so it lands flat, like a smile on a corpse.

    ¡°So many have asked for that right, Nil. So many have begged, sworn their loyalty for that right. I thought you¡¯d ask for something original.¡±

    What the¡­

    ¡°The answer is no, of course, and before you argue that practicing the Spells with the wild Demons would help, remember I gave you everything you¡¯d need to kill the Demon.¡±

    He waves his hand and the scroll floats over to me, though I already know the contents without looking. It¡¯s a copy of the [Minor Illusion] spell.

    ¡°Prepare,¡± he starts with a stern gaze, ¡°you¡¯ll be needing these powers for so much more than Morthul.¡±

 Step 7- Preparation (P3)

    Calridian kicked me out before I could get another word in. Another word of the purple light or another about the Crystals he still hasn¡¯t handed over. His justification no more than his very right to do such and less.

    Still, I didn¡¯t leave empty-handed¡­ or empty-headed rather. In relation to the vanishing purple light of mana and training my [Spells] and [Abilities], Calridian places both blame and responsibility on Gerim for my ignorance.

    This is all because he never sets out. You wouldn¡¯t be so eager to venture into the desert if you knew what lies out there, and you¡¯d know well enough about that light.

    He isn¡¯t wrong. I¡¯m not blind to see that Gerim tries as much as possible to reduce the amount of time he has to venture out. For a Demon he¡¯s quite strange. If it weren¡¯t for him, I¡¯d have a regular route in and out of the wild desert and maybe I wouldn¡¯t be so startled at a Demon getting swallowed up in a flash of purple light.

    To make sure I use the alternatives in place, Calridian sent me to Gerim¡¯s hovel.

    I pace through the communal row of habitats and what I¡¯m starting to recognize as businesses¡ªthe ambient wisps of mana and Essence trailing around these mostly whole buildings host Demons exchanging the services of mortal slaves, thralls¡­ meals.

    There¡¯s a culture among the Blood Orange tiers littering the Broken City, and while Calridian may be patron and ultimately the strongest Demon, it¡¯s all he can do to tax the profits of these Demons. His enforcers monitor the establishments rendering out strange Beasts of Reais to Blood Orange commanders and fair, delicious meals to the languishing Crimsons obsessed with food¡ªDemons liable to attack me for a lick.

    Now that I know there¡¯s some war coming, the city thrums with a different light under the hazel sky that rains sand from the desert. It¡¯s the rather sophisticated part of the city¡ªas much sophistication as a power-hungry species can have anyway.

    It slinks away behind me as I escape the border of the main city and slink into my district. It¡¯s a compact space of dug-in hovels. Most of the Demons here are too wild to think past having enough sand to burrow under during storms and others are too busy fighting.

    It¡¯s rare to see a Blood Orange tier here. I figure when a Demon¡¯s hit that level they¡¯ve got enough Essence to behave intelligently. Although Demons like the Dawern disagree with me on that point.

    It¡¯s not regular, but some of these borderline wilds pay me visits, usually on the rare occasions I bother to sleep. I could do without it but I don¡¯t: the waking nightmares are tougher to deal with.

    People¡ªHumans, Orcs, Elves, Dragons, and even Vampires linger at corners. Acknowledging them renders me helpless. I¡¯m sunk no matter what I do, transformed into whatever perspective I look from and forced to suffer the trauma. Half of these people and their events wouldn¡¯t match up to a Demon, even one of my level, and yet I can¡¯t stand it.

    My visitors bring growls and pounding against the walls. Pleas for me to shut up no doubt. I¡¯ve improved Gerim¡¯s initial designs to the hovel, although now I doubt it was Gerim that dug it up¡ªone of my visitors could be a previous owner.

    It¡¯s a lot more spacious now. I¡¯m closer to the edge of Calridian¡¯s influence, but the space to train my [Abilities] and even some kind of shelter from the sandstorms has been a boon. I settle in and get to practicing one of the moves the waking nightmares have ingrained in me.

    The only perceptible thing I¡¯ve gained from the waking nightmares is the reflex memories it unlocks. The nightmares are more often than not violent and sometimes the perspective I possess is the perpetrator of said violence.

    I wish I had a weapon.

    Glaives, lances, swords, bows, and daggers¡ªthere¡¯s the occasional odd weapon like a string of bones, some kind of staff and sickle, even a slingshot. Barehanded fights aren¡¯t as frequent, but they end swiftly when I find myself in them.

    Keenly aware of the war to come and my mission to kill Morthul, I settle in and prep my [Abilities] for whatever tests may lie ahead.

    Might be a good idea to start some fights.

    ***

    I¡¯ve turned my neighborhood against me.

    But I¡¯m not the least bit apologetic. I¡¯m not the strongest one out here, but I¡¯m certainly not the weakest. I didn¡¯t win any fights but I didn¡¯t lose any either. Calridian¡¯s flying enforcers are quick to break up fights in the open.

    The Demons, even the ones above my esq, have a guarded gait when I pass by now. It took three months of beating before my first win against the toughest nut here. After that I stopped taking the brunt of the hurt, the practice against the swild¡ªa name I coined for the borderline-wild Demons of my neighborhood¡ª serving me well, very well.

    I learned to take advantage of my high agility and minimize the injuries I receive by biting several chunks out of the thickest enemies early on in the fight. That way I could apply [Quick Mold] and have even thicker skin on areas I can¡¯t defend as much.

    Admittedly, I got lost in the thrill of getting better and sunk in another six months after that, all the more so because I finally understood why Calridian forced me to go through [Crimson]- Lvl.5. The new ability [Essence Amplification] allows me to boost specific Essence-centric nascent Demon [Abilities], like regeneration.

    After thorough beatings where I¡¯d beg for Calridian¡¯s enforcers to pull me out of the fight, it only takes three weeks for me to recover whatever I lost to my opponent.

    Before some fights I¡¯d gather and amplify Essence throughout my body, crunching and condensing its power and worth so when I needed little boosts in mimicry or even punching holes through especially thick Demons it would help.

    By the time I ventured out into the city again, squads of Demons tagging along with strange monsters¡ªsometimes dead¡ªfill the city. The buzz of war is here.

    Calridian didn¡¯t send anyone to remind me of the pending assassination he¡¯s sent me on or even the training with Gerim, and I know he¡¯s taken note of my aggression toward the Demons around me. I could stay some more and keep practicing until he sends someone to urge me on if he disapproves, but as is, I¡¯m on equal footing with the toughest swild backed up by its goons. I¡¯ll need a better challenge if I want to progress; besides, I¡¯m still getting nowhere casting [Minor Illusion].

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    So I head out to Gerim¡¯s place.

    The earth dug out to make the burrow has long been cleared out, unlike mine. He doesn¡¯t have much of anything, but like everyone else he has more than I do. Within the rather dark crevice is a long, makeshift shelf lined with several strange looking pieces of metal¡­ no, those are quills.

    There¡¯s enough space for someone of my size to summersault in unrestrained, but I doubt it¡¯s enough for Gerim himself. The floor is smooth, a stark contrast to the bumps and sands that cover the rest of the city. Trailing my fingers along the surface, I can tell there¡¯s been an attempt to smooth out the walls as well, but that¡¯s met little success from what I can tell.

    The hovel is calm, quiet to normal senses, but the pinging in the back of my head tells me this place is saturated with the various psychic impressions he goes through. In a way there¡¯s a long echo of all the thoughts, feelings, and struggles he¡¯s gone through in here.

    But with such little telepathy I can¡¯t do much aside from recognize that there¡¯s something like that. I can¡¯t process any of the information.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    Startled, I nearly trip over my own feet at his appearance. He marches in and shoves me away from the shelves. He¡¯s brought in a corpse of Demon, riddled with his quills and missing more than a few limbs.

    ¡°Uh¡­ nothing, I¡­ Calridian sent me.¡±

    He begins digging into the Demon¡¯s corpse, pushing the ribs open in search of something, but he halts at Calridian¡¯s mention.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Training.¡±

    He turns to face me, his broad, buff, quill-filled body looming over me as he approaches. ¡°Your training?¡±

    I nod and a flash of annoyance comes across his face before vanishing. ¡°Hargoil can handle you.¡±

    ¡°Hargoil threw me in a pit and left me to fight for my life!¡± It doesn¡¯t take much more than that to rile me up; my fists ball up and I glare back at his narrowed eyes, ¡°I think it¡¯s time you started taking me seriously, I need to grow, and since Calridian won¡¯t let me go out on my own, you¡¯re the only one I have. And besides, aren¡¯t you responsible for this? Shouldn¡¯t you have been training me from the start, like other squad leaders?¡±

    At the mention of other leaders, he snorts and flexes his fists. ¡°I should have killed you out there.¡±

    That shuts me up. He steps into my space, forcing me to step back. ¡°Hargoil threw you into a pit to fight for your life.¡± He growls. ¡°Pathetic. You are the Lord Crimson? Something must¡¯ve gone horribly wrong for you to become the watched prot¨¦g¨¦ of this city.¡±

    He continues to call me out, a growing impression of aggression present throughout. ¡°You have no clue, do you? You think anyone cares? You think I do? You think you¡¯re going to punish Hargoil?¡±

    Again he snorts. Shaking his head and heaving a sigh that wipes away all aggression, he says, ¡°If that were true, you ought to be mad at Reais itself, because as long as you¡¯re here, you¡¯re going to be fighting for your life. Consider that my first lesson.¡±

    Biting my cheek, vile indignation boils in me. ¡°Oh yeah? Well you¡¯re not one to talk, are you? You¡¯re more of a coward than me, more pathetic than I am! I¡¯ve heard them speak of you¡ªCalridian, Hargoil, random fucking Demons on the street! You think you¡¯re going to survive by hiding? You think you can just stay here in your hovel and avoid all the chaos beyond Calridian¡¯s protection?¡±

    I shake my head, a wry laugh escaping my throat. ¡°You¡¯re wrong. You won¡¯t survive any more than I will being entitled to power. The chaos will come, one way or another, and you¡¯ll be weak. Weak in the worst sense, because you won¡¯t even have the will to fight for your life!¡±

    A cold silence blankets us, both our faces contorted into fierce scowls.

    ¡°If you want to train¡­ heal yourself.¡± He says this and strides back into his hovel, filling it again with waves of psychic impressions that¡¯ll leave a lasting imprint.

    I don¡¯t dare follow him. I¡¯ve had enough, and I know well enough that he¡¯d probably attack me if I did. So I heed his advice. Healing.

    I¡¯m a tad roughed up from my last battle, but it¡¯s an order I can follow without trouble.

    I should increase my senses next. If there¡¯s a war and I¡¯m to be a part of it¡­

    I let the thoughts of hopefully far-off events die and focus on healing.

    When I¡¯m done healing, I take a deep breath and let all the built up exhaustion wash away with it. But it should have been long enough that Gerim isn¡¯t still slighted.

    I walk up to the entrance of the hovel; it lacks a door, but there¡¯s a boulder at the top of the ¡°roof,¡± so I assume sometimes it does.

    ¡°I¡¯m done. What now?¡±

    His back is turned from me and has opened up another hole in the ground, something I¡¯d completely missed in my initial tour of the place. The hole looks like it goes deep and wide, likely hiding several of Gerim¡¯s valuables¡ªif he has any.

    He steps out with a pair of quills long and thick enough to hold. I frown. ¡°This¡­ no, I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, you don¡¯t think. Just do as I say and we¡¯ll all be happy.¡±

    It¡¯s either this or¡­ well, there¡¯s no other option.

    I grab one of the quills, twirling it around a bit before setting it at him and slowly backing away. If we¡¯re going to have a practice duel, then there¡¯re several things to look out for.

    With a large figure and a weapon with a pointed tip like this, it¡¯d be easy to get in more than a few stabs. My legs fuel with Essence, enhancing my agility even further¡ªtoes grip and twist the sand underneath. At any moment I¡¯ll need to lunge at him or out of the way.

    He narrows his focus on me, eyes glowing a bright red from the Essence flooding into them. Why the eyes?

    I only catch his feet shuffle before he disappears from my sight. Not waiting around for an attack and leaping off the ground just in time for him to reappear, I jump as his quill strikes the point I stood half a second ago.

    It explodes.

    Rock and debris shoot out from the ground, and my eyes open wide at such an attack. I land and make sure to skirt a few more paces away as I watch. He pulls out the quill, and as he twirls it it wafts off the Essence in waves.

    How did he¡­ can I do that too?

    Wordlessly, he continues the attack. Dashing at ridiculous speeds for his size I¡¯m barely able to keep up my dodge tactics as the area around us unearths from each of his explosive attacks.

    Wait¡­ is he trying to kill me?

    No¡­ this is Gerim, a Blood Orange Demon. If he wanted me dead¡­ well, if a single of those attacks lands on me I think that¡¯ll do it.

    Fuck. I curse inwardly, rolling off the floor after another close call. Picking myself up, I find him twirling the quill again. With mine still in hand, I know what he wants me to do. Except I¡¯m barely fast enough to avoid his attacks, I doubt I can get one up on him.

    His feet shift again and he launches at me, quill poised for the kill. But this time I stand my ground. Rather than enhance my agility, I flood my left side and arm with Essence, buffing and strengthening the area the quill will pierce as I raise mine to counterattack.

    In the split second before his quill stabs through my shoulder, Gerim¡¯s eyes go wide and an impression of fear overcomes him. The quill slides in without any trouble, as though my preparations were all in vain, but they¡¯re not.

    As the Essence coated on his quill battles mine for dominance, splitting and pushing my shoulder apart like water in boiling oil, I take the opportunity to do the same to him.

    ¡°Raaarrgghh!¡± Roaring through the pain, my free arm pushes out Essence from the pore of my hand and onto the quill before stabbing it right in his eye.

    My shoulder explodes and the arm drops limp on the floor. Blood pours out of the wound and I stumble away from him.

    He stands there, unfazed and unbothered by the quill sticking out of his left eye. It bleeds, pouring out thick, dark blood from the wound. He breathes and begins pulling it out; the squelching of his eye distracts me momentarily from my arm lying limp on the ground.

    ¡°You made an attempt,¡± he starts. He twirls his quill in hand a bit more as steam oozes from his eye socket, restoring the injured part within seconds. ¡°It¡¯s a hard skill to learn, one that requires¡­ intense focus and an ability to multitask. But you¡­ you¡¯re a quick learner.¡±

    Groaning in pain, staunching the wound, I nod, ¡°Yeah, thanks.¡±

    ¡°Heal. We¡¯ll continue in time.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± I call out before he turns away. ¡°Why are we¡­ doing this instead of magic? I thought¡­ Calridian said¡­¡±

    He narrows his eyes at me. ¡°The magic comes later. I¡¯m not sure why he¡¯s showering you with so many favors, but for the coming battles it¡¯s best you learn how to end Demons quickly. And you¡¯ll need a weapon for that. He¡¯s preparing one for you now, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    ¡°You know about that?¡±

    He doesn¡¯t say another word.

 Step 8- State of Affairs

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 7years, 4months

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.5¡ª 140.9esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 20

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 22

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry], [Faithless Essence Amplification]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 0]

    Traits: [Armoured Form]- Lvl.1, [Greater Cognizance]- Lvl.1, [Psychic Resistance]- Lvl.3, [Quick Mold]- Lvl.1

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: [Invisibility]- Lvl.1

    Patron: Nil

    <hr>

    Panting, I skid away from his swipe and pull on the smidge of Essence left within, pushing it out and onto the quill in hand. It still costs a lot of focus to get even a bit of the Essence I¡¯ve gathered to attach and seep into the external weapon, but I can tell I¡¯ve improved the skill with Gerim¡¯s constant exercises.

    Despite earlier assumptions about his worth, Gerim¡¯s continued to prove himself rather capable, and I¡¯m beginning to understand why even though he isn¡¯t the strongest of Calridian¡¯s men, he¡¯s still the right-hand man.

    Knowing better than to wait before he completes the series of swings he habitually performs after each attack, I lunge at him. Deficient with Essence, it¡¯s a futile struggle. To punctuate that he doesn¡¯t shift at my charge, unfazed as with a callous swing he smacks me aside.

    The breath is knocked out of me as¡ªnot for the first time¡ªmy rib and inner organs are crushed.

    It¡¯s over. Another blow and I¡¯ll die for sure.

    I lie on the floor, gurgling blood, choking on it and my crushed-up bones. I can smell my insides. Does he always have to end it this way?

    Gerim walks up to me, staring down at me with the ever unimpressed and angry look etched in his face, ¡°Heal,¡± is all he says before walking away from my damaged body for what must be the hundredth time.

    He always says that too¡ªHeal¡ªlike I don¡¯t have the sense to do so without him telling me to.

    He¡¯s been deliberately, albeit brutally, correcting the mistakes I make. This entire agonizing process is because Calridian is making a weapon for me.

    He¡¯s teaching me how to maximize damage with a weapon.

    Or at least that¡¯s what I like to tell myself. He¡¯s taught me a little more than that though: magic. Training for [Minor Illusion]¡ªthe second spell Calridian demands I learn before attempting to kill Morthul¡ªis slow. More than that, it¡¯s stagnant. Gerim keeps saying to channel the magic, but that¡¯s a lot easier said than done.

    Although I¡¯ve taken all the worthwhile tips from Hargoil and implemented them in the casting of this spell, it keeps failing¡ªI keep failing.

    Gerim doesn¡¯t show any signs of caring aside from that one bit of useless advice. He¡¯s a lot more invested when I fail with what I¡¯m assuming is weapons training. As a result, it¡¯s been our primary focus and where I¡¯ve improved the most.

    Taking a deep breath, I accept the gruesome pain of having my entire topside collapse onto itself as fact.

    I take another deep breath, agonizing pain subsiding as I maximize [Essence Amplification] and reach out to the Essence around me, to the core of this torturous layer, to Reais.

    Amplifying and guiding ambient Essence to my wounds is a faster way to recover than using the Essence in my [Soul Crystal]. But I hate doing this, and there¡¯s a number of reasons why.

    Whenever I do I put myself in the most vulnerable state I can be in. My [Soul Crystal] opens up, a strange and eerie feeling I¡¯m now acutely aware of. But it has to if I want to absorb the ambient Essence from the layer.

    There¡¯s a distinct difference between my Essence, ambient Essence, and another Demon¡¯s Essence. Mine is the safest and most reliable to use. Ambient does hurt but it doesn¡¯t have a base esq so active absorption can be a painful task. Conversions happen passively as a closed, shielded [Soul Crystal] shifts the balance between my Essence and ambient Essence in some sort of osmosis.

    However, as much as ambient Essence won¡¯t outright kill me even with my [Soul Crystal] opened up, the same doesn¡¯t apply for another Demon¡¯s Essence.

    I understand why this skill Gerim is teaching me is so destructive. It takes your personal, volatile Essence and coats it onto a weapon. Striking someone with this and releasing the Essence coated on it would cause a cascade of volatile reactions.

    Like a shoulder exploding.

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    It takes a lot of my Essence to trigger even a small chunk of Gerim blowing up though.

    The quality matters, but so does quantity.

    With my Crystal open, swallowing and converting the layer¡¯s ambient Essence into usable Essence, the entire world is free to end my life with a quick injection of their personal Essence. The reaction would surely be lethal.

    Another reason I hate using the ability is because of what the layer feels like. The entire Realm of Reais is eager to unlock itself to me, to make me a singular part of it. And it¡¯s tempting to just let it flood in.

    The Realm would swallow me.

    I don¡¯t know how it¡¯s possible or even what it really means, but that¡¯s what the lull of the layer, of Reais is.

    More torture. Everything has to be a battle, doesn¡¯t it?

    Even after that, battling with the lull, I¡¯m privy to an extent of what this place is and what exactly is going on.

    I know there¡¯s more to Reais than here, I know there¡¯s something¡­ someplace in every direction of me. The sense of an endless void adds to the lull, but also my understanding of where I am.

    Forgetting the other places all around me, there¡¯s a tear in this one¡ªa Divide, and three of them no less.

    With this I understand what this coming war is about.

    Nothing more than intensifying the fights that¡¯ve been raging since.

    Except this time, rather than a general, albeit, mild struggle between the three contesting Divides and their Demon Lords, this is directed. Orchestrated and prepared for.

    I understand now why Calridian wants Morthul dead and wants no one finding out he¡¯s even a problem to begin with.

    There¡¯s very little information of the layer I can digest in this state, but aside from the other places bordering this one, I¡¯m keenly aware of smaller places within this layer.

    And one of them happens to be Calridian himself.

    How does he count as a place?

    I shake my head, desperately needing a better name than just ¡°place.¡± It baffles me still, but although he¡¯s a place, he doesn¡¯t count much to the aching Divide in the layer.

    Aside from him I know of one other place. And it¡¯s not all that far from here.

    Must be the Queen of Ticks everyone keeps whispering about.

    Calridian and the Queen fall under one of the larger Divides vying for total control of the layer. If Morthul were to step out and create another of these small places¡­ everyone would feel it. Everyone capable enough to passively sense these disruptions anyway.

    I have to kill Morthul before he forms a fourth, rogue Divide in the layer, or else Calridian¡¯s going to get in trouble with the Demon Lord of this layer.

    It brings a bloody smile to my face that even Calridian is frightened of someone. But also terrifies me. Enough to put away any thoughts of striking out on my own so soon.

    I¡¯m sure there are perks to having a place, and if I had to guess I¡¯d say the fact that the wild Demons out there in the dunes have never dared attack is one of them.

    It takes a while to recover the Essence I¡¯d lost, and an even longer time before I fully heal myself. When I open my eyes, roused from the deep meditative state, the clouds and shade of the sky have changed, darkened.

    It¡¯s dark enough I¡¯d consider it night¡ªpreviously a rare occurrence in this Divide, but since there¡¯s been more talk of the coming war, it¡¯s been happening rather often. Almost enough to form a weather pattern.

    During these nights the blistering sands turn cold and torrents of wind form multiple storms. Large enough storms that I can catch them from here. So I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good sign when Gerim walks up wearing a cloak.

    He hands one over to me and walks away. I know better than to waste my time asking questions, so I swallow the dread of facing the desert as it is and toss on the cloak.

    When we leave the city I stop, waiting for Hargoil and the twins to appear and join the trail behind Gerim¡ªnot that I¡¯ve seen either since I started training with Gerim.

    It¡¯s just us heading out.

    At the beginning of my near three-month mentorship with Gerim, I¡¯d figured out he¡¯s more than aware of Calridian¡¯s order to do away with Morthul. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s always known or if I¡¯m the one who spilled the beans.

    But either way, I¡¯ve been a bit on edge around him. Despite having the information of a cache of magical items capable of strengthening him up to the point he¡¯d have his own place¡­ he hasn¡¯t done a thing.

    And now¡­ I¡¯m not sure what to think. But I¡¯m hoping that, like most things, this is simply my paranoia getting to me.

    We tread deep into the desert in an uncomfortable silence; uncomfortable for me anyway, Gerim gives no impression of being bothered. He gives no impression at all.

    Even as we march in the direction of a raging sandstorm, he isn¡¯t fazed¡ªand I have to follow him in. Gritting my teeth and shielding my eyes with a coat of Essence, I brace for the coming pain.

    But it doesn¡¯t come. Even with a desert cloak on, all the pain of a sandstorm wouldn¡¯t be nullified, and yet this one feels regular. Nothing like the agony of having flesh torn from your cheeks, feet, and every exposed area. It¡¯s inconvenient at most.

    This¡­ this is a normal sandstorm.

    Normalcy. It¡¯s an odd thing since¡ªWho are they?

    Sight sharpened by the Essence coating my eyes, I catch a glimpse of three figures in the storm. Two of them have humanoid shapes, and the last at the center¡­ Fex.

    It¡¯d be impossible not to recognize the large hammer and the Demon tick wielding it. Fex. It and the two humanoids approach once they catch sight of us. The two by his side are nothing alike in appearance.

    [Ashka]

    One is a pale, bug-faced Demon with long mandibles and twitching antennae on its head. As with many Demons, it has four arms and in each of them are seemingly miniature versions of the hammer in Fex¡¯s grip.

    The other is shorter, almost as short as Fex, crawling across the desert. Flapping out behind it are large, colorfully patterned wings. The [Leptir] has rings adorning its fingers, and connected to each end like a rope is a dangling green chain. Unlike its four-armed, thick counterpart, it doesn¡¯t have any muscle. It¡¯s a wiry, short thing, stretching its leg across the sand like a strong wind could take it away at any moment.

    But I won¡¯t be deceived. Aside from the [Udele] level strength wafting off the two, their weapons are the same as Fex¡¯s¡ª giving off their own power.

    Enchantments.

    I¡¯m a bit excited about the prospect of killing these two and taking their weapons¡ªwith my [Invisibility] and Gerim¡¯s training I think I have a chance. Though I¡¯m assuming Gerim is no slouch and will win a fight against Fex, even though he¡¯s much stronger Essence-wise.

    However, none of this is meant to be as Gerim and Fex set out ahead and meet in the middle, giving the impression they are to be left alone and blocking me out of their telepathic conversation.

    Whispering. I scowl. Being left out of the loop doesn¡¯t sit right with me, but the way the [Leptir], wiry as it is, stares down at me is worse.

    ¡°You¡¯re Calridian¡¯s Lord Crimson?¡± Its voice echoes in my head, the impression of doubt clear in the telepathic thought.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I reply, ¡°were you expecting someone else?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± they answer in unison, further insulting me.

    Sadly, I understand. I would¡¯ve also expected someone of their level to carry the title, but here we are. They¡¯ve got to deal with it, and so do I.

    Gerim and Fex step away and he returns to me; looming in front of me, he finally says something. ¡°This is it, Nil. Calridian¡¯s judgement.¡±

    All other thoughts are banished from my mind at this. I seal my mouth shut and open my mind, eager to hear when and how I¡¯ll get the Crystals I¡¯m owed.

    ¡°You¡¯re Lord Crimson now, so you¡¯re privy to standing here, with me, at the beginning of the Demon Lord Vark¡¯s end. If you survive, if you do well against the enemy¡­ then you¡¯ll receive all the benefits.¡±

    ¡°The Crystals?¡±

    He nods, ¡°For this mission and this mission alone you are permitted to absorb any Crystal you end.¡± He reaches into his cloak pockets and pulls out a short blade with a plain handle wrapped in black cloth. ¡°Your weapon.¡±

    He hands the blade to me and I¡¯m assaulted with a notification.

    [Seeker Blade]- Tier 1

    [Bond] [Absorb]

    Tracing my fingers across the blade¡¯s handle, my thumb smooths over the little bump at the pommel. A [Soul Crystal]. The blade¡¯s source of its signature Essence.

    ¡°Bond.¡±

 Step 8- State of Affairs (P2)

    [Seeker Blade]- Tier 1 Bonded!

    I gasp as a mix of Essence and mana is yanked out of me and infused into the weapon. A wave of exhaustion nearly has me take a knee, but I keep standing and soon feel the large chunk of power I ¡°lost¡± return to me¡ªstronger.

    Without needing to look I know it¡¯s there, the Seeker Blade. It slipped out my hand a moment ago, but it hangs in the air beside my hand as though attached to it. And like a third limb, I command it to rise up to me.

    The blade has a crimson sheen to it, gleaming down the side of the strange iron used to craft it. The words carved in are illegible, but the way the concentration of Essence and mana flows through it tells me it¡¯s an important part of the way it works.

    An enchanted weapon¡­

    It¡¯s an awe to behold and posess. From the moment the bond was created I knew all its capabilities¡ª boundless¡ªlike myself, but only if fueled with boundless power.

    Still, it¡¯s a blade that seeks its enemies. With it floating next to me, I let it fall into my hand¡ªthe ability to control it remotely comes with a heavy tax on mana. Not mine, but the blade¡¯s.

    It¡¯s almost a living thing¡­ but that would require more¡­ so much more.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Gerim cuts my fantasizing short. ¡°Calridian crafted that from the Crystals you¡¯re due as Lord Crimson. You will get the corpses of your foes as well, but after we return from this mission.¡±

    My mood instantly sours. He used¡­ that fucking con-man!

    We¡¯d made the deal that I would learn the spell and get the weapon before I became Lord Crimson. Those Crystals should be mine. Mine to absorb, not have in some weapon.

    Despite knowing its potential, I¡¯d prefer to have the Essence for myself. The Blade can be taken away, stolen, repurposed. None of that will happen to me unless I¡¯m dead.

    He was supposed to gift me this weapon, not take it out of my earnings. Wait¡­ before I became Lord Crimson? Then¡­ did he¡ªwould he?

    Gritting my teeth and following after Gerim, I scold myself for even doubting, Of course he would. Hargoil could¡¯ve thrown me into the pit on Calridian¡¯s orders. Why wouldn¡¯t he? He wants his own squad.

    At the last part I almost come to a halt and interrupt Gerim¡¯s boring, long-winded explanation of our war target and objectives.

    Could Hargoil have gotten his own squad? Is that why I haven¡¯t seen the twins?

    I¡¯m knocked out of my thoughts when I bump into Gerim. He glares down at me. ¡°Should I take you back?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I apologize immediately. From the impression of everyone I can tell I¡¯m in the wrong here and fighting it would be detrimental for¡­

    ¡°Our teamwork.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I heard you,¡± I say.

    ¡°You better have.¡± He snarls and turns away.

    I did listen, although not that much. But the little I heard tells me we¡¯re off to initiate the first attack on the Demon Lord Vark¡¯s latest settlement. A settlement that¡¯s a little too close to our borders by the talk of it and one that sends out a clear message.

    Vark means war.

    Diplomacy must be a myth with these Demon Lords if violence is the first and most sought out option, but then again, with all I¡¯ve seen here, I have no doubt it¡¯s the right one.

    The first strike of any battle doesn¡¯t determine the outcome, but it sure as hell influences it.

    We shouldn¡¯t underestimate the settlement though; after all, it¡¯s still held by a Maroon-level Demon. But this is the start of a war campaign, a preemptive strike while the Demon Lord and Noble Generals prepare for the main phase. So of course we¡¯re heading in anyway.

    ¡°It¡¯s not hopeless, we¡¯re not the only ones headed there,¡± the [Leptir] interrupts. ¡°You talk like you¡¯re the only one who sees things,¡± he says, amused by me.

    I want to tell them reading into others¡¯ private thoughts is rude, but I don¡¯t want to be a hypocrite. Rather, I make greater effort to seal my thoughts away from them.

    In a snap, my mind pounds and my head aches as the two direct their efforts to pulling open my thoughts. Their assault is nothing like Calridian¡¯s or even Gerim¡¯s. Resistance isn¡¯t futile.

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    Narrowing my eyes, I shut the doors into my mind, holding fast against their banging, and eventually they give up.

    ¡°Lord Crimson,¡± The [Ashka] hisses and turns to its companion. ¡°Worth the title.¡±

    The [Leptir] remains amused by me as we thread through the cooling desert storm. Keeping my mind closed off, I curse that I¡¯ve got to behave on this mission. With Gerim¡¯s long speech about keeping close to allies and the [Leptir] correcting my assumptions, I¡¯d certainly be in the wrong if I jumped the two.

    As much as I ache to try out the Seeker Blade, I can¡¯t go around killing allies¡­ at least not for these reasons.

    ¡°It might be,¡± the [Leptir] replies, gazing at me. ¡°Let¡¯s hope it does enough to be worth the title.¡±

    ¡°I bet it dies.¡±

    Casually discussing my death is where I draw the line. ¡°I bet I kill you,¡± I seethe, radiating Essence as the Seeker Blade spins over my open palm, ready to launch at his head.

    The [Leptir¡¯s] amused impression turns blithe with joy. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±

    Neither of us say anything after that, and the grim expression Gerim tosses over his shoulder doesn¡¯t fill me with much confidence.

    If he¡¯s worried¡­

    The Seeker Blade blends the insides of a rather massive [Adar]. Gerim and Fex stand on the sidelines, whispering more unheard words about our unreached destination.

    The scratchy roar of a [Hezzura] startles me. It leaps from within a place in the sand behind me, bone tail set to skewer me. A long green chain circles around it, constricting and bounding it in the air.

    Above us all is the [Leptir], his colorful wings beating the air and keeping him and his prey floating. With a tug from his rather thin arm, the chain sprouts blades along its sides. The [Hezzura] screams as it watches its bottom half get sawed off.

    It doesn¡¯t hold onto life after that, and the [Leptir] tosses the top half upward to rip out its gleaming Crimson Crystal. He flutters away, chains drooping from his fingers in search of the next prey.

    ¡°Prey¡± wouldn¡¯t be the right word, as this group of Demons chose to attack us. I understand why¡ªthey see a group of high-classed Demons like us and they¡¯ve really only got two choices.

    Fight or die.

    Setting out my hand, the Seeker Blade rips through the insides of the collapsed [Adar] and snaps into my hand. Licking the blade clean, I scoff at the irony. It¡¯s the same option either way.

    These have been the best times during the journey¡ªthe hunt. Gerim and Fex indulge us, letting me, the [Leptir], and the [Ashka] do as we please with the Demons in front of us.

    In the past week of traversing the dunes, I¡¯ve captured a healthy bit of Crystals from them. It¡¯s not nearly enough to make me forget about Calridian taking the heap of Crystals I was due to make the Seeker Blade, but it¡¯s enough to appreciate the blade itself.

    At the cost of mana, the blade levitates and seeks out my victims. It¡¯s especially sharp against Demons I¡¯ve already cut¡ªa coat of Essence, its own for that matter, empowers it against my first foes.

    Although I¡¯ve only gotten to use it for no longer than a few minutes each encounter, it¡¯s proven its worth. Activating the innate power within the blade would require a lot more blood spilled and enemies felled.

    And I believe the thirst will be satiated where we¡¯re headed.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s keep moving. Absorb your Crystals now or risk losing them when we arrive, we¡¯re close now,¡± Fex announces, bounding off ahead of us with Gerim in tow.

    The [Leptir] descends and walks beside me. ¡°We are close,¡± he says, and I know I can take his word for it. Aside from the fact that he sees further than any of us up in the air, there¡¯s the multitude of Demons¡­ Demons as strong as him on the edge of the horizon.

    ¡°I know,¡± I reply, ¡°I have senses too.¡± Throughout our journey the [Leptir] has found minor ways to annoy me. Pointing out the obvious is one of them¡­ stealing my kills is another.

    We meet up with the [Ashka] and he groans at having to leave behind his meal. ¡°There¡¯s more to be had ahead. Fiery meat too,¡± the [Leptir] says, exuding an excited impression.

    I shake my head and leave the two behind to discuss their current and future meals. I don¡¯t know why they¡¯re so excited¡ªin part I can relate to the joy of farming Crystals, but the farmland is frightening.

    Gerim, Fex, and I climb over the top of what has to be the last dune and a bright, burning light falls on our faces. The startling orange and red glow of the Fire Divide stands before us in all its glory.

    Lava pools down from a giant volcanic mountain, plumes of ash and soot settling in the sky, turning it gray. There¡¯s a clean divide where the desert¡¯s dreary brown sky ends and the ash-filled skies begin.

    Standing on the last dune by the border, the sounds of the Fire Divide are overwhelming. Unlike the calm, sinister quiet of billowing winds and burrowing predators the desert brings, this Divide is loud, chaotic¡ªdangerous.

    ¡°It¡¯s no more dangerous than where you¡¯re coming from,¡± Gerim grunts at me. I nod and his throat rumbles a bit. ¡°If you¡¯re absorbing those Crystals, do so now. Otherwise¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll absorb them now. I will.¡± I start pulling them out.

    ¡°When you¡¯re done, meet me down there. We have to stick together on this mission. More than with any of the others. Got it?¡±

    He leaves before I nod, following after Fex and his Demons.

    Down there is a congregation of Demons. The surge of power coming from them as a group could be mistaken for a Noble General.

    We¡¯ve gathered an army equal to a Maroon tier, I note.

    There are ten Blood Orange Demons, including Gerim and Fex. The rest of the Demons are my level, or at least I¡¯m coming closer to theirs. Aside from myself, there are at least fifteen other high-class Crimson Demons.

    If the [Leptir] and [Ashka] came with Fex from the Queen of Ticks, and I came with Gerim from Calridian, then these fifteen must be from the other Noble Generals.

    Allies¡­ in a manner of speaking anyway.

    The lot of them radiate hostility toward each other, and I understand well enough why Gerim wants us to stick together. As much as these Demons try to be organized, there¡¯s bound to be cracks in the foundation of this tumultuous alliance of forces. Heck, Gerim doesn¡¯t even like Fex all that much from what I¡¯ve seen.

    Setting aside my thoughts of politics and replacing it with thoughts of power, I gather the Crystals I¡¯ve reaped from the Demons on the way here. Together they¡¯d give 57esq.

    Not much, but I¡¯m grateful. I haven¡¯t had any boosts for over a year now. ¡°Absorb.¡±

    My [Soul Crystal] reaches out and cracks open each one, tendrils of Essence flowing into me, rejuvenating me with power. My brows furrow as behind it all there¡¯s something¡­ no, there¡¯s everything eating at my absorption as well. Making its worth less than it is.

    Reais itself...

 Step 8- State of Affairs (P3)

    For 57esq I thought I¡¯d at least go up a level or two. But that isn¡¯t the case it seems¡ªthe stronger you are, the harder it is to level up. I may have underestimated Reais¡¯ effect on Essence and esq. Still, I¡¯ve got a few points to spare, and if my past year training has taught me anything, it¡¯s that I¡¯m still nowhere near as tough as I should be.

    It¡¯s no wonder these Demons look down on me as Lord Crimson. Looking out at the Fire Divide, I wonder if there¡¯ll even be a chance for my usual speedy guile and tricks.

    I sink three Trait points into [Armored Form]. After evolving twice it¡¯s rather expensive now. The remaining two Trait points fall into [Quick Mold]. As much as I¡¯m nervous about withstanding attacks, I want to give them out as quickly as possible as well, though with the Seeker Blade I figure that changes the paradigm of how I fight.

    For the sake of battle I split my Essence points four to one in favor of strength. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve favored strength, but it¡¯s the right time to do so. Wisdom only goes up by one point, because I doubt it¡¯s the extra wisdom stopping me from casting [Minor Illusion].

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 7years, 4months

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.6¡ª 197esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 24

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 23

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry], [Faithless Essence Amplification]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 0]

    Traits: [Armored Form]- Lvl.2, [Greater Cognizance]- Lvl.1, [Psychic Resistance]- Lvl.3, [Quick Mold]- Lvl.3

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: [Invisibility]- Lvl.1

    Patron: Nil

    To an extent I¡¯m beginning to understand why I¡¯m getting so little power from Crystals that are nearly my level and even higher. But understanding doesn¡¯t make it any better.

    My consolation prize, however, is the extra power in my muscles. The Essence points I tossed into strength gave me more than some extra muscle.

    I¡¯ve gained an extra bit of health from it: my [Soul Crystal] feels fuller. There¡¯s always been that gap between the max Essence I can move around from mimicry, boosts, and other feats, and the max Essence I need to remain alive. They¡¯ve both increased.

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    My general disappointment doesn¡¯t feel as bad anymore.

    With my newest strengths acknowledged, I leap down from the dune and trot over to the [Leptir] and [Ashka]. Despite spending a long time in the desert, fighting and eating weaker Demons as we traveled, I still haven¡¯t learned their names¡ªif they have any that is.

    ¡°What are they talking about?¡± I ask, interrupting whatever conversation they may have been engaged in.

    The [Leptir] turns to me again, ever-amused with its wings fluttering behind it. ¡°Nothing you¡¯d understand.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s strategy,¡± the [Ashka] cuts in, mandibles clicking even as his [Leptir] companion snaps a glare at him. ¡°The base we¡¯re assaulting is relatively new, that means a new Maroon-tier Demon is ruling there. Compared to the Queen or even your Calridian, they¡¯re much weaker. They¡¯re closer to Fex and Gerim in power than the Queen and Calridian.¡±

    He finishes explaining, ignoring the [Leptir¡¯s] snarling. ¡°So we have a good chance of winning then,¡± I say with some excitement. If this Maroon-tier Demon isn¡¯t as strong as Calridian or the Queen, then there¡¯s some hope for coming out of this alive and stronger.

    But it¡¯s here the [Ashka] falls silent, exuding an impression of discomfort and uncertainty as his mandibles click again. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so proud to say there¡¯s a good chance. This is still a Maroon tier after all, a tier we¡¯re all so far from. The powers vested in Demons of this tier are¡­ well, it outclasses us.¡±

    The [Leptir] makes a sound akin to a scoff and beats its wings. ¡°What¡¯s the point of this conversation anyway? You should tell it the truth.¡±

    ¡°What truth?¡± I press as the [Ashka¡¯s] expression fills with annoyance.

    He turns away from his companion, shaking his large ant-like head. ¡°He believes we¡¯d either get killed or be too weak to even face off against the Maroon tier.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m right!¡± He beats his wings again, the wind turning the sands around. ¡°No matter how young this Maroon tier is, the fact is there are going to be Blood Orange tiers around and many, many Crimson tiers. Even if we clear out the Crimson weaklings, we¡¯ll be left to fight the Blood Orange tiers, keep them at bay at least while our seniors over there head over to challenge the Maroon tier while they still have some strength in them.¡±

    Carried by his wings, he leans in. ¡°Realize it now, whatever strategy they come up with is going to boil down to tossing us ahead of them so they save their strength for the true challenge. So try not to die, although I don¡¯t expect many of us will be leaving with our lives.¡±

    With this curt, angry outburst the [Leptir] flies away, hovering over the ground as he does. I can¡¯t tell if he feels proud at being chosen or if he dreads it.

    Before this I would¡¯ve quickly picked the former, but now¡­

    ¡°Let¡¯s go. They¡¯re ready,¡± the [Ashka] says, walking out to the others gathering in front of Gerim and the other Blood Orange Demons.

    I¡¯m tall enough to catch a good view of the Blood Orange Demons lined up in front of us. Staring at them up close is intimidating. My senses pick up several sources of Essence, and I figure Fex isn¡¯t the only one with an enchanted weapon.

    The ten of them are varying sizes, species, genders, and power levels. But out of them all there¡¯s only one that catches my eye¡ªa tall, reptilian-looking Demon with long, gleaming claws. Poking out behind it are large cleavers with serrated sides. It dons an armor as well, the first I¡¯ve seen worn in Reais.

    There¡¯s little doubt he¡¯s the strongest.

    Of course, there¡¯s no icon indicating what type of Demon it is, but I don¡¯t fret about that¡ªit¡¯s embarrassing that Gerim is the only Demon out of them whose icon I can read clear as day.

    Compared to the large, oppressing presence that is this Demon, Gerim feels more like a peer than anything else.

    Hope he didn¡¯t hear that.

    ¡°The time is now!¡± the Demon starts. ¡°I am your commander in this assault, and you may refer to me as Lord Commander or simply Lord. Our goal is simple¡ªshow the fiends of this Divide that encroaching on our Great Lord¡¯s territory will not be tolerated!

    ¡°Now these brutes are an audacious bunch, so the moment we march into their territory to mete out their punishment, expect their fodder to lie in wait, preparing to ambush and trap us! Be ready for anything!¡±

    One of the Demons beside him seems to mention something telepathically and he adds, ¡°Yes, we will follow behind you. You, the children of our Great Lord, will be the first to reap the rewards. Kill, destroy, occupy! That is our mission.¡±

    ¡°What did I tell you?¡± a voice pokes into my mind. It¡¯s hard to hear because of the effects of [Psychic Resistance], but I know who it is and my head turns to meet his eyes.

    Hovering above us all, the [Leptir] looks down at me and at last I understand what he¡¯s been thinking¡ªfeeling.

    Hopelessness.

    Stick with me. We¡¯ll survive this together, I urge, speaking directly to him.

    He doesn¡¯t say another word, instead cutting me off as he flaps away and the group begins to march.

    ¡°Nil,¡± Gerim calls out, grabbing my arm. His frown deepens at the sight of my face, and although he has something to say, he says something else. ¡°Don¡¯t overextend yourself.¡±

    With that he lets my arm drop and stands beside the rest of the Blood Orange Demons, safe behind the Crimsons.

    Well, this ought to be¡­ bloody.

 Step 9- Cornered

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 7years, 4months

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.6¡ª 197esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 24

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 23

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry], [Faithless Essence Amplification]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 0]

    Traits: [Armored Form]- Lvl.2, [Greater Cognizance]- Lvl.1, [Psychic Resistance]- Lvl.3, [Quick Mold]- Lvl.3

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: [Invisibility]- Lvl.1

    Patron: Nil

    <hr>

    There isn¡¯t a direction without flames or lava. Shadows of large dragons dotted in the vermillion sky fit in without a doubt, but I know from the head of the one roaring pillars of flame into the sky that they¡¯re just another part of my waking nightmares.

    I¡¯m not fazed by them anymore, I rarely am. The past year has more or less numbed me to the paralyzing dread that comes with the visions. I don¡¯t know for sure that there aren¡¯t any Dragons in the Fire Divide, but the distinct fear that racks through me every time one of their shadows flys overhead isn¡¯t because I¡¯m afraid they¡¯ll swoop down and swallow me whole.

    It¡¯s because I know they won¡¯t. I know they can¡¯t. They¡¯re nothing more than a premonition, a cautionary tale of something far more terrifying, of beings that will petrify me with a fear, a weakness and hopelessness I¡¯ve yet to re-encounter.

    All I have are enemies, and I¡¯m beginning to wonder if my enemies are already aware of my existence down here. These visions, the torment¡ªdespite my insistence, I know Reais isn¡¯t responsible, that it can¡¯t be. The only other time and place I experienced such torture was at the Wall of Deaders.

    The fact that all my [Abilities] are prefixed with the word ¡°Faithless¡± doesn¡¯t often fill me with hope. I wonder if I ever left the Wall at all, if I¡¯m not still there and this fantasy is just another version of torture. That the Gods hear my curses loud and clear and figure they¡¯d give me a chance to find the power, if it exists, to bring them to justice.

    And all the while they tease me with signs like this, temples of Dragons over on the mountain tops, Priests and Warrior Dragons in service to the draconic beings of power, offering prayer and sacrifice all while delivering the flames of their masters to the mortal worlds.

    It¡¯s all so familiar and strange. I figure that¡¯s the true dread, the fact that the Gods may be right, the fact that at the end of these visions I will find myself at their mercies and their judgement will find me a Faithless Deader as they did in the first place. And this¡­ this is all my folly.

    The Dragon screeches and racks my head with a splitting headache, spinning the contorted world back into the demonic horror of fire it is.

    The Divide is angry, burning with a rage exemplified in the Demons rampaging through it. Lakes of lava, geysers, and burning mountain ranges¡ªa lot of mountains.

    The heat generated from each is enough to have most Crimson-tier Demons exhausted. Like with the scalding sands and harsh winds of the Desert, the Fire Divide is trying to kill us.

    Already, even without encountering Demons, the Crimson tiers have lost limbs, eyes, and wings to the blasts of fire and abrupt waves from the lava lakes and seas. There¡¯s very little land to thread a path on, and the most fortunate of us have wings and fly, taking their chances with unpredictable geysers.

    The narrow path the rest of us thread along is wide enough for four Demons to walk ahead of the rest. Theses four are the unfortunate squad taking on any of the incoming attacks from Demons. Be it the jaws of Demons leaping out of the lake around us or a charging rock fiend.

    A recurring pattern it seems. I figure this Divide is full of Demons living within the lava or simple-minded, wild, igneous Demons charging into their deaths.

    I¡¯d say their attacks are something we shrug off without care, but the truth is we¡¯re already handicapped as is. With all the injuries the Crimson tiers have sustained, I can¡¯t help wondering if we¡¯ll even make it to our destination.

    No one has died yet¡ªof course not¡ªbut still, it worries me.

    Maybe the Leptir was right. We¡¯re not coming out of this alive, and Gerim¡­

    The face he made at me doesn¡¯t fill me with a lot of confidence in this mission. Gulping down another choke full of sulphur and volcanic ash, I spare a glance back at the Blood Orange tiers.

    None of the aches and losses affect Gerim or any of the Blood Orange tiers, and understandably so¡ªthey¡¯ve gotten the skills required to survive the Divide. If Gerim is as old as I think he is, then this isn¡¯t his first time here, and he ought to have picked up a trait or two.

    I¡¯m a bit resentful at how cushy they are, and I¡¯m sure they can feel the waves of envy the Crimson tiers exude. Unfortunately, there¡¯s little time to be hateful when at any moment a Demon could leap out of the lava and end this little adventure.

    Looking back, it¡¯s a blur how I ended up here. Am I meant to be here? Calridian didn¡¯t say anything about sending me on another suicide mission. Isn¡¯t one enough?

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    I know I asked Gerim to be less of a coward, but I didn¡¯t mean we should start at the extreme ends of bravery. Venturing into the Desert Divide, cold and harmless as it is now, would¡¯ve been a terrific start to hard leveling my [Traits] and practicing moves with the Seeker Blade. With the additional limb, I feel like I¡¯ve got to learn a whole new style from what I built over the year.

    Could the cold over the Desert Divide come here? Doubt it¡¯d do much good if it did. Wait... why is the desert cold now anyway?

    The temperature only ever went from complete dehydration to dehydration, and the winds picked up the hottest sands. But it¡¯s all gone cold¡­ normal rather.

    Why?

    ¡°Gerim.¡± Speaking out telepathically for anyone to hear, I reach out to the quilled Demon. Without him in my sights, I can¡¯t focus telepathy on him alone. Once he responds¡ªif he responds, I¡¯ll be able to secure the private connection.

    ¡°What do you want now?¡±

    I roll my eyes at his accusatory response, I rarely ever bother you with questions, or anything other than training, do I?

    There¡¯s a long pause at this. I have to follow up or get to the point of my disturbance or he won¡¯t answer. Uh, I was wondering why the Desert Divide is¡­ normal now.

    ¡°This Divide could swallow you whole, and yet you¡¯re thinking of home?¡±

    I wouldn¡¯t go as far as calling it home, but yes, I was thinking about something and then another thing and now I¡¯m thinking about how the last time I was there it was... different. Milder and far tolerable than usual.

    He pauses again, I feel him there, in the back of my head connected to our shared telepathic net, but he doesn¡¯t say anything¡ªso I don¡¯t say anything either. I know well enough when to push and prod Gerim, and I know even more when we¡¯re connected like this.

    He¡¯s musing.

    Debating whether or not I¡¯m worth knowing the answers I¡¯m asking for. I hate that judgment, the pause of indecision. It irritates me and has me gritting my teeth. But I restrain myself¡ªthe image of a broken and beaten Hargoil is still fresh in my head, mostly because I like to fantasize that¡¯s what I¡¯ll do to him when we meet again.

    ¡°It¡¯s the same reason we¡¯re here.¡± He breaks the silence at last, just as the frontline buckles, a wild Demon up ahead. An odd and inconvenient time to finally speak as I have to struggle between the Demons in front and behind me for space.

    The desert¡¯s cold because we¡¯re leaving to fight these guys?

    ¡°What? No, how¡¯d you get that? Just listen.¡±

    Although he can¡¯t see me, I nod and keep my mouth shut, threading my arms with Essence and mana to keep from getting tossed into the boiling lakes beside us. It seems we¡¯ve come across a horde of Demons¡ªor we¡¯re getting close and the Maroon-tier Demon we¡¯re here to kill sent out his minions.

    Either way, the Demons aren¡¯t letting up and the lines ahead are beginning to break and buckle as our Crimson tiers leap out for more space to combat the foes. I¡¯ve got a good glimpse of the Demon raging against one of the Crimson tiers.

    A rather small thing, like the others, it¡¯s more or less a rock-shaped creature. Blazing with a fire stemming from the bright Crimson gem embedded in its chest, the Demon spits out globs of fire and boosts itself, naturally faster than most of us thanks to its affinity to fire.

    ¡°This battle right here, right now. This is the beginning of another round of wars for this slice of Reais. Our attack on Vark is a preemptive strike. Give him something to worry about while the Demon Lord gathers power from the Divid, for a great army and musters the forces of his Noble Generals.

    ¡°Calridian, The Queen, all the Maroon tiers, the entire Divide. It¡¯s war¡ªan offensive war, and the Divide is reacting as any thing would when drained.¡±

    And that confirms it¡ªthe correlation between places and the Demons in charge of them.

    I want my own, I mutter to myself.

    The ability to draw on the vast oceans of Essence each Divide holds. The Divides passively create Demons, chuck them up, and fill the layer with wild Demons born of Reais.

    Imagine what having the entire layer could do¡­ the possibilities. I¡¯d be strong, strong enough to get answers from anyone.

    I can see why the Demon Lords are still fighting and why they¡¯d want to keep fighting. I¡¯d want to keep fighting too with this kind of power at stake.

    A bright, growing light snaps me out of my power lust. Blazing toward me, coated in flames, is a rather round Demon with frightening teeth. Shoving the Demon next to me in the way, I escape as the Demon bowls through everyone left standing, setting them alight.

    The Crimson tiers aren¡¯t slouches either¡ªbefore I set myself right they¡¯ve descended upon the wild Demon, their claws and quills and acids tearing it apart before it can launch another attack.

    The Seeker Blade spins beside my open palm as I search for victims¡ªthere¡¯s plenty to be found too. With a single command, it shoots out of my hand like a dart, embedding itself deep into the throat of one of the less igneous Demons.

    [Vatreni]

    It reaches to pull out the blade, but I¡¯m already pulling on the blade¡¯s end, activating the Essence within its Crystal to sharpen the edges and directing a diagonal slice with mana.

    The Demon spurts enough blood to douse its own flames as it staggers, rattled¡ªbut still alive.

    I can¡¯t focus long on it as a blast of fire races at me, weaving to the side and nearly tumbling into the lava lake with an ally. The Demon sets me aside, disgruntled by my lack of grace but furious at the attack.

    Launching out on its numerous legs, the insect Demon races toward the fight. I follow behind it, leaving the Seeker Blade to do what it¡¯s best at. Calridian must have anticipated I¡¯d be in more full-on battles when he made it.

    The [Vatreni] continues to struggle with the Seeker Blade as it continues to poke, stab, and slash at any exposed wound, utilizing its Essence to keep it afloat without my commands. It costs a bit of mana to control it from afar, but it¡¯s most effective once I¡¯ve already made a wound on the victim. The first cut is a homing beacon, drawing the Seeker Blade to it¡ªthe larger the wound, the more it attacks.

    It¡¯s a dependable blade, one that guards my back.

    Leaping over a swipe from a pulsating fireworm, I have the Seeker Blade end the [Vatreni]. Dancing above the ugly Beast, the blade comes to a halt and glows a deeper shade of Crimson before jutting out of the air and drilling through its skull.

    Complex attacks cost a lot more mana, I note, shrinking at the drain.

    As the Seeker Blade weaves and cuts through waves of brawling Demons, the worm alight with green flame makes another wide swipe at me. I leap out of the way but bump right into another opponent.

    Looming over me is a bipedal Demon wielding a large curved axe. It glowers down at me, canine mouth dripping with identifiable insect parts¡ªallies.

    Obviously a cut above the rest of the fodder that¡¯s been charging into us, I know to be more concerned about it than the lurching worm still hunting me.

    But before either of us can attack or retreat, a long green chain wraps around its neck, pulling it forward like a mutt while the metal eats away at its flesh like acid. It yelps and the Seeker Blade snaps into my palm in time for me to hack away at the worm¡¯s descending tail.

    The attack knocks my arm a little, but with my blade tearing through it I¡¯m fine calling it a win.

    A heavy clang calls my attention back to the canine Demon. It dropped the axe as none other than the [Leptir] strangles and decapitates it in the air. Flapping its wide, colorful wings, the [Leptir] yanks and shakes the chain for better traction in the Demon¡¯s inescapable execution.

    The head hits the ground first, bouncing once before the rest of it plummets to the ground. The [Leptir] doesn¡¯t lower its descent as it speaks. ¡°You¡¯re not awful, you might survive what¡¯s coming too.¡±

    What¡¯s coming? I ask, snatching the Seeker Blade out of the air. It drips with a thick red goo and a lot of blood, so I wipe it off on the desert cloak I still have on.

    ¡°That¡­ they¡¯re here already,¡± he says, motioning beyond my line of sight to the barely widened space where we¡¯ve delved into battle.

    But with a little boost from Essence, I make it out. Blended into the haze and mirage of the boiling hellscape, there¡¯s a cluster of Demons¡ªmarching.

    ¡°The Maroon tier¡¯s militia¡­ not bad for a new Maroon.¡±

    It¡¯s an intimidating sight. Organized, the numbers, and the collective Essence booming off of them¡ªthey¡¯re going to be trouble.

    We can¡¯t have been fighting the wilds since, have we?

    He shakes his head and flutters down a bit as the wild Demons disperse with the encroaching small platoon of Demons. ¡°No, we¡¯ve fought some potential Blood Orange Demons, like the one I took care of. Look out for the ones with weapons and we¡¯ll likely keep breathing long enough to be murdered when the Blood Orange tiers show up.¡±

    I don¡¯t like this guy, I groan inwardly. Seeing things as bleak as he does is the last thing I need right now, but at the same time¡­

    Hey, are you sure you don¡¯t want to team up? I ask him.

 Step 9- Cornered (P2)

    The Demons of the Fire Divide taste very different. Eating them, even as corpses, brings pain to my mouth, but I can¡¯t say the effort isn¡¯t worth it.

    Rather than another weapon to beat them with, I¡¯ve chosen to mimic their natural defenses¡ª something I desperately need against the lava splashes and the hurling fireballs.

    My skin is now a deep, charred black with cracks of red running through. The heat sears me from within¡ªit¡¯s a complete mimicry, or at least the closest I could get to with the [Leptir] covering for me.

    The Seeker Blade snaps into my palm and I stay on the offensive. The wild fodder Demons of the Divide are long gone, scared off by the clash. The Fire Divide¡¯s Crimson tiers are just as tough as any I¡¯ve faced off against, even tougher because of the home advantage.

    In the sweltering heat the [Leptir¡¯s] chains descend, snatching up another victim¡ªa larger one than usual too. It¡¯s a fat one, with a gaping mouth on what should be a stomach¡ªfor immediate digestion I guess.

    The Leptir struggles to keep himself and it afloat; the Demon proves stubborn with its claws, unafraid of the acid chains or what they¡¯ll do if it lets them.

    ¡°A little help here?¡± he calls out to me.

    Don¡¯t bite off more than you can chew. That said, I send the Seeker Blade up to the Demon, letting it pierce through the gaping stomach-mouth and have its way with the Demon¡¯s insides. That counts as my kill, by the way.

    The Seeker Blade returns with the Demon¡¯s Crystal long before its body drops. A level-seven Crimson.

    ¡°Watch out!¡±

    With the Leptir¡¯s prompt warning, I leap out of the way. A large axe embeds itself where I stood a moment ago. At its end is a large wolf-headed Demon. Steam puffs out of its snout as it heaves the axe out of the ground and ignites the blade.

    ¡°This one¡¯s gonna be tough.¡±

    Oh, you think? I snort, readying myself.

    The Demon lunges again but I duck under it¡ªthe Leptir takes the opportunity to flutter over, his chains swinging around the Demon to ensnare it. It roars and a wave of fire rises from its feet and washes over us¡ªmy armor takes the brunt of the blow.

    Fuck.

    The wave sets the [Leptir¡¯s] wings alight and for a moment and he panics, trying to put himself out¡ªas the wolf-headed Demon marches toward me. Its snout puffs and huffs red flames, its axe blazes blue, and its hooves kindle the ground itself.

    This one¡­ it¡¯s a Blood Orange! Hurry up and help me out here!

    The blazing axe misses me again as I leap back and palm the Seeker Blade. With all the killing the [Leptir] and I have been doing, I¡¯ve run through mana like water¡ªI can¡¯t send it out to attack the Demon in front of me now.

    [Agir]

    The axe swipes at my face, but I¡¯m able to jump over it, my feet grazing its sharp edge. ¡°Die!¡± it screams out at me as it lunges again, this time with both hands.

    I spin around to dodge the attack, and when I turn back to face it, I see that the axe has grown to be twice as tall as the Demon wielding it. As it raises the weapon above its head, I leap out toward it instead of dodging. The axe lands beyond me as I dance past into its wide swings.

    The Demon growls in frustration at my superior agility, huffing and panting¡ªthe weight of the enlarged weapon bearing down on it. Taking advantage of its exhaustion, I zigzag my way through its defenses and land two Essence-powered kicks on its chest. It spirals backward but roars out another blast of fire from its feet again¡ªkeeping my advance at bay for the moment.

    The axe shrinks down to a wieldable size as it growls at me, it¡¯s annoyance that I¡¯m still standing despite its efforts evident by its expression. It makes to lunge at me again but chains wrap around its neck, yanking it back and catching it off guard. With some mana retrieved, I command the Seeker Blade to attack.

    With the [Leptir] recovered and attempting to melt through the [Agir¡¯s] neck with his chains, I have all the opening I need to attack with the Seeker Blade. For a moment it hovers over my hand as the [Leptir] continues to choke and decapitate the [Agir]. A red glow covers the glinting surface, sharpening and enhancing every part of the Seeker Blade before it zips away.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The blade moves with a speed that would make any sword envious. The enchanted weapon tears through the [Agir¡¯s] armor like it were made of butter and slices into the Demon¡¯s flesh. It lets out an ear-piercing shriek as it tries to pull itself free from the [Leptir¡¯s] chains, only to be met by another pair of chains. The acid lined on the chain burns deep into the [Agir¡¯s] neck and the Seeker Blade doesn¡¯t let up on carving out the ensnared Demon.

    It isn¡¯t enough though: not nearly enough to take this thing down. The [Agir] is in agony, but the gap in power is significant¡ªits hands are coated with fire and Essence, pulling and prodding on the chains binding it. The [Leptir] isn¡¯t very strong, so there¡¯s a good chance he¡¯ll be flung away before the [Agir] loses its head.

    Although the Seeker Blade started carving through the damned thing with ease, that advantage has dissolved. Before my eyes, the [Agir¡¯s] injuries stitch themselves up, fusing shut faster than the Seeker Blade can break through.

    Annoying. We¡¯ll need another Demon to put this bastard down at least, or¡­

    My eyes parse the battlefield for something I can call to and quickly land on the fallen axe. I¡¯m about to pick it up when a wave of heat washes over me. My sight¡¯s covered in blue, burning flames.

    Something crashes into me, sending me spiraling out through the scalding wastelands. When I come to, I find a burnt and beaten [Leptir] lying over my body and the [Agir] twirling its axe once more, igniting it as it prepares to finish us.

    The [Agir] bounds over, its neck bleeding out from the [Leptir¡¯s] best efforts to decapitate it. But it doesn¡¯t seem to mind any of its remaining injuries, nor the Seeker Blade pestering it with quick and random strikes¡ªits Essence-coated armor takes care of that.

    I need more¡­

    The axe ignites, burning hotter and brighter than before as the [Agir] approaches. Based on the amount of Essence pooled into the axe, if it hits me I¡¯ll be dead for sure.

    Not waiting for the [Leptir] to wake up, I plunge my hands into the pockets of his burning cloak and gather all the Crystals lying in there. Along with mine, the total comes to Essence worth 50esq.

    ¡°Absorb!¡±

    The [Agir] roars and lunges for me, wary of what¡¯s about to happen, but it¡¯s too late. A blast of Essence tosses it, the [Leptir], and everything else in the way far away from me. Thick tendrils of Essence flood my [Soul Crystal], bombarding me with power.

    The [Agir¡¯s] axe blazes down toward me, but coating my hands with Essence, I manage to smack the flat side away, getting away with light burns.

    Mana and Essence restored, I have little to worry about. Willing the Seeker Blade toward me, it nicks the [Agir] on its way to my palm. The Demon growls and brims with mana. Casting some kind of magic, it coats its body with a cloak of blue flames and its axe burns even hotter.

    But I¡¯m putting in as much effort. The Seeker Blade brims with Essence as I empower it¡ªI¡¯ve leveled up to [Crimson]- Lvl.7 now and quickly toss all five Essence points into strength.

    I can kill this shit.

    Mana and Essence seep through the Seeker Blade, digging into the crevasse of the ineligible words on the blade¡¯s body. An eerie red glow covers it as it hovers over my hand, and at my command it disappears.

    Moving faster than my eyes can follow it, the Seeker Blade embeds itself in the [Agir¡¯s] torso and, with a wave of my hand, slices open the Demon¡¯s guts. The cloak of fire it dons flickers a bit but doesn¡¯t fade¡ªrather than stop and heal or even snap at the blade digging into its torso, the [Agir] begins to spin.

    It spins in place until a small torrent of flames gathers from its body, rendering it impenetrable to even the Seeker Blade. The torrent reaches heights twice as tall as the [Agir] itself, a veritable tornado of fire.

    Corporeal flame axes launch out of the tornado toward me, glancing at my sides and even smacking me right in the chest at incredible speeds.

    Those first strikes are all I¡¯m willing to take. The [Agir] launches out more fiery projectiles, but I¡¯m already chanting, ¡°Wekt! Wekt! Wekt!¡±

    As the spell takes effect, I narrowly dodge another of the blazing axes. The spell doesn¡¯t change much¡ªthe [Agir] still remains and the Seeker Blade can¡¯t pierce through the burning flames it maintains as a defense and offense. To my luck, the barrage of axes comes to a pause as the [Agir] loses sight of me.

    But for whatever reason the tornado keeps edging toward me, even as I weave through what¡¯s left of the battlefield, picking up dropped and forgotten Crystals from corpses of both friend and foe.

    With something of a breather, I can look past my battle and see that the number of Crimson tiers we marched in with has been significantly reduced¡ªwe¡¯re less than half of what we were before.

    Behind what¡¯s quickly becoming a graveyard, Gerim and the other Blood Orange tiers do nothing, watching as the slaughter on both sides continues even though the outcome of it all is clear as day¡ªour Crimson tiers have lost.

    The [Agir] isn¡¯t the only Blood Orange wreaking havoc. There¡¯s another, a wide Demon far stronger than the [Agir] considering I can¡¯t even identify it. It¡¯s tormenting three Crimson tiers, launching out molten balls from a pore in its body and even manipulating the lava lakes.

    We¡¯re outclassed.

    Enchanted weapons or no, Blood Orange takes the win, eh?

    A scalding heat washes above me. My reflexes takes over and my arm shoots up to block¡ªbut that¡¯s exactly what I shouldn¡¯t have done.

    The burning axe cuts into my arm, taking half of it off and flinging me aside like a ragdoll in a bonfire.

    I manage to roll into the attack and launch myself over the open lava lakes, but that was a close one. The [Agir] stands some paces away, grinning right at me.

    How can it...?

    Its eyes glow an ethereal blue as it picks up the half of my left arm it chopped off and munches down on it. The blue-red cloak of fire still coats it, mana and Essence brimming out of it as though it has both in unlimited supply. It palms the axe, igniting it further before charging straight at me¡ªa wolf hunting its prey.

    Gerim¡­ if you can hear me, I¡ª

 Step 9- Cornered (P3)

    One-armed and playing defense, I skid across the battlefield, doing my best to absorb the latest smack from the hounding [Agir]. I¡¯m surprised it hasn¡¯t given up on killing me¡ªthe barrage of flame axes continues. It¡¯s even thrown its physical axe at me as well.

    It all goes to show that the veil of invisibility is useless against it. I hope all Blood Orange tiers aren¡¯t immune, because that¡¯ll mean something else for my assignment.

    I shouldn¡¯t even be thinking about that right now.

    But I am. There are only two outcomes to this fight. Either the [Agir] finally catches up to me and has a filling meal, or I find a way to outwit and kill it.

    So far I¡¯ve found no such thing, but I¡¯d rather think like I¡¯m definitely getting out alive than the alternative.

    I weave through a barrage of projectiles and the [Agir] draws closer. I¡¯m down on health but I¡¯ve got Essence and mana to spare. The Seeker Blade returns, and like a fly dancing over the ass of a cow it does its best to gain the ire of the [Agir]¡ªall it can do against armor and fire.

    The Seeker Blade that cuts down Crimson tiers like a hot knife through butter, now reduced to nothing but a pesky housefly. The gap in power between the tiers is impressive, and even though I¡¯m close to the edge of Blood Orange, I know it¡¯ll take a lot more than what I¡¯ve been absorbing to reach it.

    While the Seeker Blade distracts the [Agir], I make my way toward what fights are left. The Crimson tiers I arrived with have dwindled to nothingness. The raging sounds of battle and magic and power from before fade into silent defeat, a croak of an unwilling death.

    But I can¡¯t die here, I won¡¯t.

    My only remaining option is obvious¡ªI should have seen it earlier in fact. Gerim said it, Gerim chanted and pleaded.

    Stick together.

    If he¡¯s not stepping in to help and the Blood Orange tiers picking us off are doing only that, then¡­

    Then there¡¯s a clear intention between the two sides to clear the field of everyone incapable of working together in unison¡­ as an army.

    Although that¡¯s more on our side than theirs, I can imagine the reasoning behind it¡ªthere¡¯s no need for powerful Demons when they won¡¯t do your bidding. It¡¯s just like Calridian and Morthul again. This battle, this attack¡­ it¡¯s as much a test as it is a way to prune our numbers.

    If I want to survive this test and not be pruned, I¡¯ve got to apply the cheat Gerim gave me right from the beginning.

    Catching sight of one of the last few clusters of Crimson tiers, I dash toward them. The [Agir] is right behind me, but I could care less for it now. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m getting through its armor without some help, some kind of greater distraction or power, and the only place to find that¡ª

    Is in another battle.

    Three Crimson tiers fight against a single Blood Orange, and they¡¯re beaten and, most of all, charred. The Blood Orange is a large, pored Demon with stumpy paws and bright red claws coated in lava.

    Essence runs through my thighs and calves, enhancing my muscles and boosting me to unnatural speeds. Recalling the Seeker Blade, I take advantage of the last vestiges of my [Invisibility] and jump at it.

    I land on the thing, making it stumble, but most of all burrowing the Seeker Blade deep into its thick head. In defense, it roars and lava from all the lakes shoots out toward it¡ªtoward me.

    To the fortunate competency of the Crimson tiers still standing, they don¡¯t wait around before wringing the Demon down with their barrage of attacks. Quills, acid, and a constricting web helps keep the Demon still while I carve its face out.

    I leap off of it right before the lava comes rushing in, the sludge of matter slapping onto the Demon¡¯s body and beginning to fuse and harden. Seeing where this is going, I flood the Seeker Blade with all the Essence and mana it can manage, then send it out at the Demon.

    Keep attacking it, don¡¯t stop! I bark out at the others.

    As my [Invisibility] fades, the Seeker Blade lands a decisive strike on the Demon¡¯s neck. The lava hasn¡¯t gotten through to it all yet, so¡ª

    ¡°Raaauurrrrghh!¡±

    The primal scream doesn¡¯t come from the Blood Orange tier I¡¯ve begun to decapitate, but from the [Agir]. The persistent wolf Demon rages, absorbing the few Crystals lying about and refueling its nigh-unlimited Essence and mana.

    With a quick and ruthless twist of my hand, the comparatively senior Blood Orange Demon loses its head. But what would be a killing blow is an inconvenience. The lava stretches around the wound, attempting to seal it shut.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    However, I can¡¯t have two Blood Orange tiers pissed and after me. I direct the Seeker Blade to do as much excavating as possible down in the festering wound. The blade dives down, tearing, slashing, and cutting through in search of the one thing that¡¯ll end it.

    The blast of fire that washes over us is unlike anything it¡¯s unleashed since.

    Worse yet, it¡¯s taken out one of the Crimson tiers already. The poor monstrous spider was the closest of us to the blast.

    Not like it¡¯d have helped much. Webs against fire? I scoff, inwardly hoping this renewed [Agir] doesn¡¯t kill what¡¯s left of us before Gerim snaps out of this testing thing and helps.

    With renewed rage, the [Agir] swings and waves its axe at us. Dodging isn¡¯t a problem, but the follow-through is. The blasts of fire, the lava spilled everywhere by the other Blood Orange, and the litter of corpses make for a horrid obstacle course.

    A deep sense of misery sinks in my stomach as I watch the [Agir] grab hold of one of my new companions. The fits of struggle and the barrage of weak attacks reinforce the dread bubbling within.

    I can¡¯t escape this thing¡­ even if I turn invisible. I have to try something else.

    The Seeker Blade juts out of the lava-encrusted body of the dead Blood Orange and hovers in front of me with a gleaming, deep Blood Orange Crystal.

    [Blood Orange Soul Crystal]- Lvl.3(42.7esq)

    [Absorb] [Destroy]

    It¡¯s the first I¡¯ve seen over level 2. It must be powerful¡ªironic, given it only took a surprise attack to end the last owner. But maybe a surprise attack is all I need right now. I haven¡¯t gotten one on the [Agir] since we started fighting.

    Fuck it, let¡¯s try.

    Dragging on what¡¯s left of my mana, I start chanting the Key. ¡°Alhak za, Alhak za, Alhak za! Alhak za!¡±

    The [Agir] splits the Demon in two and tosses the pieces aside as my chanting continues. I lock eyes with the only other Crimson tier. Having observed that brutal death, I can already tell they¡¯re skittish.

    But hesitance isn¡¯t to be had, not here and not now. A barrage of flame axes gets it moving, hopping and dodging as best as it can until the [Agir] leaps toward it like the blasted hulk it is and squashes it beneath its feet.

    Another dead and my spell isn¡¯t ready. Considering I¡¯ve never cast this spell before, I¡¯m not sure what ready should even look like¡ªright now I¡¯m just pumping and chanting the Key because that¡¯s al¡­

    ¡°You idiot! You can¡¯t trust a spell you haven¡¯t mastered to guide itself! You have to control it!¡±

    Gerim¡¯s voice resounding in my head is the first I¡¯ve heard of him since the slaughter started. Finally! What¡¯ve you been waiting for? Why didn¡¯t you help me out ever since this started!?

    ¡°I could still come over there and kill you both!¡±

    Rather than get into a squabble with Gerim, I take his word and try to manipulate the spell. Manipulating a spell like this is rather difficult. The nature of magic is¡­ elusive, ever-changing. It¡¯s like mana except far more¡­ something. I¡¯m not sure what word to describe magic¡¯s slippery, concrete, and slimy behavior, but with the [Agir] cleansing its foot with a blast of fire, I¡¯m not sure I need to.

    ¡°You¡­ finally,¡± it mutters, a small grin creeping onto its face as it struts. It¡¯s eager, anticipating the satisfaction that¡¯ll come from snapping my bones between its teeth.

    ¡°Alhak za! Alhak za! Alhak za!¡± The spell is all I bother with; I may be the last Crimson tier alive, but it¡¯s also the last Blood Orange tier standing. I say we did well.

    A crude, low rumble escapes its throat. The cloak of fire and the axe¡¯s ignition dies as it lets go of the weapon. The low rumble¡ªa chuckle or a laugh¡ªcontinues as the demonic Beast exudes confidence, a confidence that it doesn¡¯t need any of its advantages anymore: not to kill me anyway.

    But I¡¯m a Demon too, and I think I finally figured out [Minor Illusion].

    The mana I¡¯ve been pumping and weaving all around us forms a dome¡ªa center of control and range of effect for the spell.

    ¡°Alhak za!¡±

    With the final chant, I sense the spell click within me and drain a significant portion of mana for my callous method of casting. I don¡¯t cry about it; rather, I snap my fingers and the [Agir] comes to a halt. Shaken, confused, but most importantly¡ªblind.

    [Minor Illusion] allows me to manipulate and distort the senses of my targets. Right now I¡¯ve made myself and everything else invisible to the [Agir]¡ªI¡¯m in control of everything it sees.

    With another snap of my fingers, the field of darkness fills up with several copies of myself, all equipped with a Seeker Blade.

    An expensive spell I see. I groan at the second drain; establishing the basis of the spell isn¡¯t where I stop using mana. I also palm the Seeker Blade and fuel it with Essence for what I hope will be the final attack on this Blood Orange.

    Can¡¯t believe I spent all this time fighting one of them.

    With that thought, a small grin crawls onto my face. ¡°Oh how the tables turn.¡±

    A moment ago, the flaying Demon fighting imaginary and unseen enemies was filled with anticipation¡ªeager to end my life and get the satisfaction of a long hunt. And now¡­ that¡¯s me.

    The end is rather anticlimactic¡ªthe Seeker Blade, brimming with Essence, hovers over my hand before I let it loose with a thought. Without Essence covering the right places and without that pesky cloak of fire, the end is a pathetic explosion of flesh and bone as the Seeker Blade injects into its sternum.

    Finally got your trick down, Gerim.

    The [Agir] stops fighting the illusion; I don¡¯t know if it realized the enemies aren¡¯t real, but it¡¯s too late anyway. It falls over and I direct the Seeker Blade to dig out the Crystal I¡¯m owed.

    ¡°You survived,¡± Gerim says as he and the Blood Orange tiers finally start moving forward. ¡°Well done.¡±

    The strongest of them approaches, the Demon adorned with actual armor. The serrated cleavers poking out from behind its back could be as tall as I am.

    The giant, broad, reptilian Blood Orange Demon stares down at Gerim and me. A thick tail slithers behind him and a scar runs across his brown face. ¡°Yes, well done¡­ Lord Crimson. Feel free to pillage whatever Crystals you find here; they mean little where we¡¯re headed. And if you wish to join us against the Maroon tier, you may.¡±

    I get to keep the horde? Fuck yes. But¡­ facing off against a Maroon tier? I¡¯d like to see what a battle between this many powers would look like, but if I had so much trouble holding out against the [Agir] I doubt I¡¯d last half a minute in the chaos.

    ¡°Uh, yeah, thanks, but no. I know my limits. I¡¯ll leave the Maroon tier to those most capable. I¡¯d only get in the way.¡±

    ¡°A Lord Crimson who knows its limits¡­ an odd thing,¡± is all he says before marching off with the rest of them.

    Gerim hangs back a bit, his eyes narrowed down at me.

    What?

    ¡°You cast Minor Illusion, you have your weapon, and you have a horde of Crystals to enrich you and your blade. It¡¯s time you go kill Morthul.¡±

 Interlude: Valery

    The marble hallway outside the chambers resounds every single one of Valery¡¯s nervous steps. Heavy boot stomps bounce off the walls like she¡¯s marching down a long corridor lined with mirrors, each reflecting her image and adding to her already mounting anxiety. She¡¯s only here because of an order from the Council, but even so, she feels as if she¡¯s on trial. Her heart pounds in her chest, threatening to burst out through her skin at any moment.

    She reaches the door and takes a deep breath before knocking. It¡¯s opened by the guard who escorted her this morning. He shakes his head and gestures away from her. ¡°They¡¯ll come to you.¡± He shuts the door in her face after that.

    Valery loiters for several moments, staring at the closed door, unsure what to do next or how to react when they finally call her. Should she go back to the room? What if they¡¯ve forgotten about her?

    ¡°Would you come sit down?¡± an exasperated voice calls behind her. Valery turns and levels her elder sister, Lumina, with an incredulous look. ¡°What? Is there a problem with sitting and waiting for Mother to figure out what she wants to do with your wild ideas? She spends most of her time doing that on a regular basis anyway.¡±

    Lumina sits cross-legged on the floor, looking up at her younger sister with a smile. Valery crosses her legs too, leaning back against the wall and taking in her big sister¡¯s calm.

    Lumina has always been this way¡ªcalm, collected, and the undisputed heir to the duchy and everything Mother has to give. Although she¡¯s older and heir to everything Valery¡¯s known, she¡¯s smaller, younger-looking, and worse yet, apparently wiser when it comes to matters of state.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Valery says, ¡°all the prancing and pacing isn¡¯t helping matters, is it?¡±

    Lumina shakes her head and a look of understanding washes over her childish face. ¡°But I think you¡¯re right to be nervous¡ªthis is an idea that would make anyone nervous.¡±

    Valery gives a shrug and slides down to the floor so she sits the same as her sister. ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s the only thing I can think of, and I know how to do it too. I just need some help and then we¡¯ll be able to fight back, Lumina. Don¡¯t you want to fight back?¡±

    Lumina looks down at her hands, turning them over in her lap. ¡°Of course I do. This is my inheritance they¡¯re trying to take, not to mention they want Mother dead too and they¡¯ve already killed... sorry. But you don¡¯t understand. If you¡¯d spent half the time you do adventuring with Mother and her horde of boring officials, you¡¯d know this will never pass.¡±

    ¡°Even if it¡¯s our only choice? Even if it¡¯s the only way to save us from them?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Lumina has that look on again, the one that says she¡¯s lost patience with her younger sister. Valery wonders why she bothers. After all, Lumina¡¯s only her half-sister, and Mother... well, if they all want to die¡ª

    Valery shakes the crude thoughts out of her head. It¡¯s the frustration, and again she reminds herself why there¡¯s any to begin with, why their home is the way it is. There¡¯s no one to blame so there¡¯s no use being angry. Still¡­

    A few minutes pass before the door opens again and two guards step inside. They don¡¯t say anything, merely motioning for them to follow. Valery nods and follows their lead, moving through the halls of the palace until they reach another set of doors. They spread ajar, revealing a large audience chamber where Valery can see people sitting on benches along the walls. The guards stop in front of the room, holding up a hand to hold her back¡ªher mother¡¯s hand raised as one of the dark and red-robed Priests whisper in her ear.

    The Duchess of Hescaria sits atop the stairs, elegant as the gold, silver, and mithril throne behind her. She smiles and waves her hand, motioning for the Priest to move aside.

    ¡°Valery.¡±

    Valery gulps, ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    The finality of the word takes the floor away from her and she plummets into despair as what she fears come true in that single word. An audible sigh of relief comes from her sister behind her¡ªshe wants this. This is what she hoped for.

    Complacency.

    Distraught, Valery sneers down and up at the two of them and screams, ¡°Cowards! Cowards!¡±

    ¡°Valery!¡± the Duchess rebukes, her legs uncrossed, the Priests surrounding her befuddled.

    Valery goes up another step, a distance she shouldn¡¯t cross as per custom but that doesn¡¯t matter anymore. ¡°You¡¯re too much of a coward to fight! Because you¡¯re tired, you¡¯re old, too long-lived, so you want to take it lying down!¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re a brat who hasn¡¯t even seen a century! You don¡¯t understand the forces you¡¯re suggesting we dirty ourselves with,¡± her mother spits back.

    ¡°But you do! So why aren¡¯t you doing this already? They¡¯re going to kill us all one day, you know that. You see it!¡±

    Here her mother pauses, unbridled fury settling as her wide eyes narrow down at Valery and her lips form a line. ¡°Because I already know what¡¯ll happen. As you¡¯ve so rudely said, I¡¯m old¡­ long-lived. I¡¯ve seen this already and I know how it plays out.¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    As Valery is about to rebuke her mother¡¯s words, the Duchess gestures and a servant approaches with a cushion in hand. Dread fills Valery¡¯s stomach as the Duchess picks up the gleaming pink crystal resting on it.

    ¡°What¡­ do you think this is, Valery?¡± she asks, twisting the crystal between her thumb and forefinger.

    ¡°Vuius have mercy, Valery!¡± It¡¯s Lumina scolding her now. She marches up the stairs until she¡¯s right above Valery. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you already made an attempt, unsupervised.¡±

    A thick wad of saliva sits like a rock in Valery¡¯s throat, and with her mouth beginning to dry up it¡¯s difficult pushing it down. ¡°I-I had to, to check if it was possible. If I could pull it off.¡±

    ¡°And you couldn¡¯t, Vuius spare me! Why did you even go through with it? Did you even think about how the Goddess would see this? You¡¯ve condemned yourself. You have to do penance, quickly!¡±

    Lumina tugging and pulling Valery from another one of her latest embarrassments isn¡¯t what pings aloud in her mind. The Goddess can wait. Hescaria has been waiting on the Goddess to save her since the Empire was formed beyond her borders. Now the Empire is here. And Hescaria will hang if no one fights.

    Valery snatches her hand out of Lumina¡¯s grip, causing her petite sister to stumble. She faces her mother¡¯s death glare; the familiar stirring in her golden eyes tells of a coming, long-winded verbal lashing. She interrupts it.

    ¡°Wait. Before you start shouting, I just want to say¡­ you know I¡¯m right.¡± For the better part of her years, Valery has spent them watching and defying her mother¡¯s will. The chaos she is is known throughout the duchy. It may be attributed to her Human half, but she doesn¡¯t care¡ªit¡¯s helped her understand her mother¡¯s conniving edge.

    The very edge she¡¯s stepping onto now. If you¡¯re too scared to do it¡­ I will. I¡¯ll do it for both of us.

    ¡°This is the only way to save ourselves. There aren¡¯t any alliances coming. You can¡¯t marry either of us off, because we¡¯re going to outlive our spouses. And the closest friendly Elven-ruled kingdom is on a whole other continent.¡±

    The Duchess, the Priests, and even Lumina stand in solemn silence. Valery takes a breath¡ªthinking it is one thing, but saying it out loud and pronouncing the final nail in Hescaria¡¯s coffin¡­ is another.

    ¡°We can either wait¡­ on Vuius who for centuries before I was born has forsaken us time and time again. You¡¯ve been there for some of those times too. Old, tired, and long-lived¡­ Mother, do you want to be here for another? Be present for the end of our people? Because you will be if you don¡¯t help me do this.¡±

    The Duchess breathes, her nostrils flaring and her eyes and nose tilting. ¡°You-!¡±

    The Priest takes a sharp breath, cutting off what would be her mother¡¯s straight line of verbal cursing. ¡°I think¡­ the Princess has some eager thoughts and has forgotten that while our Mother Vuius is forgiving¡­ she requires penance, true penance for the grievous acts. As a Priest of her holiness, I believe you are¡­ blinded by your rage to the repercussions that will follow.¡±

    Valery scoffs and shakes her head at her feet before stomping off, the Priest, Lumina, and her mother all silent.

    <hr>

    As the bedroom door slides open, Valery scoffs and goes on stuffing her pack. There isn¡¯t much in it: very little clothing, two shirts, some of her finer skirts, some trousers, and the dark cloak she¡¯s got on now.

    ¡°Look at you¡ªyou have to know this is a sin.¡±

    Filling the pockets with gold and valuable jewelry¡ªitems meant to adorn her as Princess, items she never cared for¡ªValery says, ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s why I¡¯m dressed the way I am. I don¡¯t mind being a sinner, Lumina.¡±

    Lumina curses, slamming the door behind her. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised. There¡¯s not much you mind at all, is there? You don¡¯t mind dressing like a commoner!¡±

    ¡°Is that really the most important thing right n¡ª¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t mind the flirtatious gazes the Knights give you, I have to call it out every damn time!¡±

    Valery shoves the pack aside and whips around to face Lumina¡¯s scowl. ¡°Is that what this is? You want to grow up and be attractive and old enough to fucking breed!? You want men to look at you the same way?¡±

    Her sister¡¯s trembling lip and watery eyes restrain another slough of hurtful words. Though even this angers her¡ªevery time she has a chance to scream, every time she ends up being the bad guy.

    Valery pulls away from her sister, groaning down at her before sitting on the bed. ¡°I hate this.¡±

    Sniffling the threatening tears away, Lumina asks, ¡°Hate me?¡±

    With a worn-out snort, Valery says, ¡°Yes, but no. I love you. I love Mom and I¡­ I miss my father. Lumina, I hate¡­ this. You¡¯re my big sister and you¡¯re meant to protect me! You¡¯re not any younger because you¡¯re full Elf and your boobs are refusing to pop out for another ten years.¡±

    Teary-eyed, Lumina chuckles at that. ¡°Yeah, I know¡­ I know. I just lash out because I¡¯m jealous. And I¡¯m sorry, you¡¯re right, I should protect you. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here to stop you from taking this any further. What do you hope to accomplish? You couldn¡¯t even control one, Mother said she had to send in a squad to take it down.¡±

    At this Valery gapes. ¡°It took a whole squad? How strong was this squad exactly? Tell me at least D-tier.¡±

    ¡°Valery!¡± But Lumina has never resisted her pout. With a sigh, she caves in and turns away as she mutters, ¡°It was a D-tier. But that only goes to prove the point! You¡¯re putting yourself at risk here, and you don¡¯t even know what you¡¯re doing!¡±

    ¡°At risk? I ranked as a strong B-tier, last I checked.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about that.¡± Lumina sighs, ¡°These Demons¡­ the creatures of Reais can only be tamed by the strongest conjurers. Conjuring one brings up a Demon of random threat, and if you¡¯re not careful you could summon an intelligent one.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve read about those. I know what to do if I meet one.¡±

    ¡°Are you going to kill it? Because most novice encounters with the intelligent type end with the conjurer¡¯s death.¡±

    ¡°And how do you know so much about this?¡±

    Rolling her eyes at Valery, Lumina says, ¡°We both know I read a lot more than you do.¡±

    Valery laughs but all mirth soon deflates. ¡°It¡¯s either I kill it, show it who¡¯s boss, or it kills me¡­ or I form a pact with it.¡±

    ¡°An option you can never choose, just like this option right now. You mustn¡¯t do this, Valery. Vuius will punish you, and she may punish us and the next generation.¡±

    Valery shrugs her off, abruptly getting on her feet. ¡°Don¡¯t you see? We won¡¯t have a next generation if we don¡¯t secure ourselves against those Elf-hating bastards over the border! You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re not safe like I am. I can blend in and bear a little persecution because I¡¯m half-Elf, but you¡­ everyone. Including that string of a Priest. I don¡¯t want to see any of you die. I¡¯d rather have Vuius kill me than watch you die.¡±

    At this Lumina breathes a sigh then stands. ¡°Alright, I understand, and¡­ it is much better than doing nothing and letting Mother die as the cost of our vassalization. I¡¯ll help you, but¡­ you have to listen to me when it comes to Vuius, I don¡¯t want your soul to be lost.¡±

    Valery brightens up at this. A grin spreads over her face as she recalls the last time they went on an adventure like this. Although, adventure is a bit of a stretch considering they only explored the extent of their home¡¯s extensive corridors and nooks.

    ¡°Alright, it¡¯s a deal. Let¡¯s save Hescaria.¡±

 Step 10- Hunt

    Marching out to a battle he may very well die in, Gerim reasonably doesn¡¯t have much time to discuss the minutia of Morthul¡¯s assassination. All I know is that he was last spotted between the Queen of Tick¡¯s and Calridian¡¯s domains, presumably headed south. As I have no reliable sense of direction, Gerim stresses that it wouldn¡¯t matter anyway because I¡¯ll see the changes and follow them.

    Changes to what? That he doesn¡¯t explain, the most important piece of it. This matters little though¡ªif I need to, I can stop and ask Calridian himself. What bothers me now is the Demon panting in front of me.

    [Leptir]

    ¡°You¡¯re alive,¡± I say, beginning to regenerate the arm the [Agir] lopped off.

    Panting and heaving, the Leptir demands its handout. ¡°Give it to me¡­ my half.¡±

    Startled, I take a step back and shake my head, holding onto the rather hefty pocket of [Soul Crystal]¡ªI¡¯m starting to think I won¡¯t be Lord Crimson anymore if I keep hauling them like this.

    ¡°You must be joking.¡± I snort and relax my stance¡ªif he¡¯s as weak as he looks, it¡¯d be a mercy to put him out of his misery. ¡°I killed them, something I realized after the rush of the fight left me. Tonight, under this red sky, I killed two Blood Orange tiers.¡±

    I take a step toward him and leer down at him. ¡°Did you hide? Is that how you survived? No shame there, but¡­ hiding doesn¡¯t get you half.¡± It¡¯s hard not to laugh in his face.

    Throughout my time on Reais I¡¯ve never felt so¡­ powerful. Domineering over a weakened [Leptir] shouldn¡¯t be this¡­ exciting, should it?

    Off the top of my head I can think of a few reasons why it shouldn¡¯t, but there¡¯s the few reasons it should, and those weigh heavily. Almost heavier.

    I¡¯m right, I did¡ªone way or another¡ªsurvive and kill two Blood Orange tiers, whereas he did nothing. And now I¡¯m well on my way to kill another. I¡¯ve earned the rewards and I intend to keep them.

    In fact, there¡¯s an itch in my mind that says another [Soul Crystal] to the pile wouldn¡¯t hurt one bit.

    No¡­ no use killing him. Better as¡­ hmm, yes.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name? Do you even have one?¡±

    He nods, dripping with blood and crumbling in places where the [Agir] charred him. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m Haern, and I want my Crystals back. If you won¡¯t give me half then give me what you stole from me.¡± It¡¯s hard for him to talk, I can sense it. He¡¯s so weak his mind is a haze¡ªI underestimated the damage he took from the [Agir]; I may not even have to touch him for him to die.

    ¡°Haern¡­ well, Haer, you¡¯re not getting anything more than what I choose to give you.¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡± he crumbles to his knees and his thoughts fragment.

    Pulling out a single Crimson Crystal, I wave it in his face and he huffs, desperate¡ªbegging. It¡¯s ugly and silly at the same time. I want to kill him for the fun of it, for the fact that I can.

    There¡¯s no one left around to stop me. Gerim and the others stood and watched as dozens of Crimson tiers died fighting the enemy just so they could preserve their strength and weed out the best of us. I am the best, as it turns out, and I¡¯m the only one left to decide who gets to live or die.

    I squat, drop the Crystal in his pleading hand, and stare¡ªpeering straight into his beady eyes. The [Leptir], once a Demon I thought of as a better and then as an equal, fades to nothing more than a subordinate whose life will depend on my whims.

    I choose to let Haern live, and for the first time I understand the relationship Hargoil and the twins share. And regardless of how much I despise the beetle Demon, I figure he has the right idea

    As much as the bloodthirst tells me to rip his throat out, I understand the worth of a set of extra muscle. The Seeker Blade has already changed the way I fight; I¡¯m relying less on mimicry, saving myself from the frontlines of the battle with it. Haern and his chains will change it all again, keeping me safer and making me stronger at the same time.

    Not much of an ally, more of a Demon shield, I groan as he hurriedly absorbs the Essence within the Crystal. When the light subsides I see his wounds heal a bit but not by much. A shield I have to feed. Well, I have to feed the Seeker Blade too or it¡¯ll become obsolete. A blade and shield¡­ not a bad bargain.

    Getting up on my feet, I tell him in plain terms, ¡°You¡¯re mine now, Haern, mine. You understand that, right?¡±

    Stronger now, he manages to correct his pathetic expression and give off a hint of stubbornness. ¡°Is that so? And how¡¯s that going to work? I work for the Queen¡ª¡±

    ¡°But you don¡¯t want to, do you? You¡¯ve been¡­ distracted ever since we met. At first I thought you only wanted to strut, to flaunt your strength and intimidate me. Then I thought you wanted out because you felt so miserable, that was your impression. Hopelessness, loss, anger, and a bridling desire to escape.

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    ¡°Right here, right now, I can offer you two forms of escape. Either you join me and be reborn in my vision and serve my quests, or I can consume you now. Your Essence will serve me either way.¡±

    Haern applys what must be a regenerative trait. The charred spots begin to regain their color, and some bits crumble off to make way for the flesh pushing outward. Haern shakes his head. ¡°Why should I work for you? You¡¯re only so much stronger than me and¡­ back with the Queen, she¡¯ll look for me.¡±

    I scoff. Then chortle until I¡¯m in hysterics. When I calm, he¡¯s still presenting that look¡ªthe one where he thinks he has much other than the choices I¡¯ve given him. Faster than he can react, the Seeker Blade zips out, poised to rip his throat open.

    Beady eyes go wide as he gulps. I shake my head at him. ¡°You think the Queen of Ticks, a Maroon tier, would come looking for you? No, no¡­ no. What you should be worried about is what will happen to you if she finds out you survived this raid but got subdued by her rival¡¯s agent. She¡¯ll kill you just to do away with the scorn.

    ¡°So¡­ what do you want to do, Haern? Live? Or die?¡±

    <hr>

    Haern makes the right choice. Servitude under me is the best he can get away with at the moment¡ªthere¡¯s nothing else he could choose. I¡¯m excited at having my first subordinate; it¡¯s a bit impromptu, something from a moment of blind power, but I¡¯m excited anyway.

    I hand him three more Crystals and let him know he¡¯ll have to hunt for his own survival now¡ªI¡¯m generous, but I¡¯m no babysitter. Fortunately for him, we¡¯re out in the open, free to hunt and consume whatever Demons we like. The freedom to do so is intoxicating but at the same time a bit paralyzing. Should I hunt some more Fire Divide Demons, or should I head back, start the hunt for Morthul in earnest?

    In the end I march toward the Desert Divide¡ªI figure it doesn¡¯t matter what Demons I kill as long as I kill some. Before we leave our position though, I make sure to divvy up the remaining Crystals between myself and the Seeker Blade and to devour as many Demon corpses I can. I¡¯ll need the Essence points.

    With so many mouths to feed, I accept the longer wait to crossing into Blood Orange. But with my half I still manage to achieve some satisfying changes. I didn¡¯t spend any Trait points when I leveled up earlier, so after reaching [Crimson]- Lvl.8 I had ten points to spend.

    I max out [Psychic Resistance] and [Quick Mold] for a cheap four points and throw the rest into [Greater Cognizance] for two points each level.

    With 350.2esq, I¡¯ve got a short spurt toward Blood Orange now. I¡¯m rather powerful compared to before the battle, and looking out at the desert, toward the hunt, I¡¯m certain Blood Orange won¡¯t be too far away from me.

    I take a look at my full stat and wonder what [Ascension Perk] awaits.

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 7years, 4months

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.8¡ª 350.2esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 31

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 26

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry], [Faithless Essence Amplification]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 5]

    Traits: [Armored Form]- Lvl.2, [Greater Cognizance]- Lvl.4, [Psychic Resistance]- Lvl.5, [Quick Mold]- Lvl.5

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: [Invisibility]- Lvl.1, [Minor Illusion]- Lvl.1

    Patron: Nil

    I haven¡¯t gotten anything new in the Traits division and I¡¯m still at Crimson Lvl.8, but the Seeker is stronger with its share of the Crystals, strong enough to supplement the absence if there¡¯s a need.

    Haern and I traverse back the way we came. The chaos from our battle with the Maroon tier¡¯s forces seems to have subdued the Demons creeping near us, but there are always Demons nearby. I let Haern have them; his ability to fly cancels out any hope of escape for many Demons¡ªa fact I¡¯m a bit envious of. For the sake of getting him to full strength, I don¡¯t tax any of his Crystals.

    Eventually, after a long, tiresome walk through the Fire Divide, we arrive at the border and the sands of the Desert Divide look as appealing as they did the first time I saw them. I stifle the bit of nostalgia I feel and continue walking.

    But I suppose this is where Haern figures it¡¯s safe to speak out to me. ¡°Where are we going exactly? Back to Calridian? To tell him you¡¯ve captured me or what?¡±

    My eyes would roll back into my head if I could. ¡°Calridian doesn¡¯t care about you. No point showing you off. You¡¯re not much to show off, if I¡¯m being honest.¡±

    I don¡¯t see his face, but I know he¡¯s disturbed by that. ¡°So? Where are we going?¡±

    ¡°Where do you think we¡¯re going? I¡¯ve let you consume all the Demons we¡¯ve run into, what¡¯s your best guess?¡±

    ¡°Another fight?¡±

    ¡°See? You do have a brain.¡±

    He snarls and flutters closer. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re forcing me to come with you? To work for you?¡±

    ¡°No, not at all. I did that for fun.¡±

    ¡°You subjugate me for fun?¡± The outrage underlying his words is clear as day, but there¡¯s no time to respond to him as the sands shift and a Demon leaps out.

    It¡¯s tall, large, and stands on many legs with a bulging sack and a stinger behind it. A classic [Inurri] Demon. The nostalgia intensifies¡ªthis is one of the three Demon types that ambushed me during my first days in the Desert Divide.

    The Seeker Blade spins out, sharper than ever and thirsty for Crystals.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Haern starts, jumping between us.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I narrow my eyes at him. Essence flows through my body, readying to execute them both if there¡¯s a single hint of funny business.

    ¡°Do you want to keep walking to our destination? Wherever that is,¡± he grumbles the last part.

    He steps out, wings carrying him off the ground a bit. The Inurri clacks, snaps, and growls at him but doesn¡¯t make a move¡ªodd. I keep watch with the Seeker Blade hovering right behind him, ready to spear through them both.

    But then the clacking stops as he reaches out to it. I¡¯m not sure what but there¡¯s something between them now, a connection I¡¯m barely picking up on with telepathy.

    The [Inurri] bows, low enough that Haern hops onto it and stares down at me. ¡°What? Do you really want to walk all the way there, or would you rather have our buddy here do all the work?¡±

    Eyes narrowed, I take his hand and hop onto the [Inurri], our new steed. ¡°You¡¯re telling me exactly how you did that.¡±

    ¡°Haha, sure.¡±

 Step 10- Hunt (P2)

    The desert is unlike before. I¡¯d call it unfamiliar, but when would I have familiarized myself with the vast dunes?

    Still, it¡¯s clear there¡¯s been a change, and I remember what Gerim said about the Demon Lord preparing for war against Vark, the Demon Lord of the Fire Divide. The effects on the desert aren¡¯t severe, but they are noticeable, and inconvenient.

    My desert cloak has long since burned away, stripping me of the only viable protection from the desert¡¯s new mood swings. The winds billow calm, harmless sands in our faces at the moment, but the next second it could be the most hostile attack or simple a wide and rapid spawning of Demons.

    Blight that it is, it¡¯s still a marvel to watch Demons spawn¡ªbe birthed from an ether of Essence and the will of the Demon Lord, wherever they are.

    The Demons spawned are nothing Haern and I can¡¯t handle; in fact, they¡¯re rather bothersome when they get in the way. Their moods range from insane, mad at the world and everything that moves, to mindless, droning westward, far from wherever it is I¡¯m headed.

    My guess is they¡¯re answering the call of their creator. As Gerim said, the Demon Lord is raising an army for the war¡ªthis is it. It¡¯s not very impressive at the moment: all the Demons spawned are either Pink or Crimson levels, cannon fodder compared to what we¡¯re warring against. But I figure that¡¯s why the mood of the desert switches about so often, from the calm march of a mindless, newborn army to the frenzy of death and consumption that leads to bigger and better Demons.

    Demons like the Dawern raging at us right now.

    The Seeker Blade dances around it, chipping and slicing endlessly at the Demon¡¯s segmented, seeping rows. Haern disturbs it personally, whipping his chains about it, searing it as best as he can with acid no more potent than the one the Dawern spits out.

    Haern and I have come across more than a dozen smaller-sized Dawerns. Those fortunately didn¡¯t seem concerned with us and simply burrowed out toward the Demon Lord¡¯s call, but this one I figure has eaten and consumed enough of its counterparts to get this large.

    It leaped out of the sands, snatching our steed out from under us and nearly biting my legs off. It may have taken all my luck to escape the sudden attack¡ªthese Demons, the newborns, their minds are clean of thought or emotion. There¡¯s not a single impression coming off them. It¡¯s as though every one of their actions are merely automated responses to the environment.

    Thinking about it that way, I figure it may have been inevitable that a Dawern would come out at the top of the pile, the strongest Demon among its mindless peers.

    Unfortunately for it though, I¡¯m not all that interested in how it came to become so strong in such a short time or its purpose in service to the Demon Lord. It¡¯s at least a level six Crimson, so this should be quick but worthwhile.

    Quickly morphing my arm into the slick, cutting edge, white pincers of the [Bichu] I devoured earlier, I leap at it, joining Haern and the Seeker Blade in its execution.

    Although just as massive, this Dawern falls short in power compared to the first one I took on with Gerim, the twins, and Hargoil. It¡¯s sourly outmatched and wastes no time dying after I tear out bits of flesh with my pincers and send the Seeker Blade in for further destruction.

    The blade returns to me with the Crystal soaked in blood, and I end my mimicry of the [Bichu] to absorb it, devouring bits of the Dawern.

    Haern is silent as he munches down on the stringy, acidic meat, but his impression isn¡¯t as meek. I¡¯ve been rather stingy with Crystals recently, I know. He isn¡¯t pleased about it, to say the least, but he doesn¡¯t dare protest it aloud.

    His leaking expression is the only form of protest he can manage, or rather the only form of protest I will tolerate. I keep telling myself I¡¯ll let him have the next one, but then I end up killing the Demon and convince myself I¡¯ve earned the Crystal¡ªit¡¯s selfish, perhaps greedy too.

    I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m comfortable with that attitude, not sure if it¡¯s something I want to keep up. Sure, the perks are sweet, I get more Essence and get stronger, far stronger than I thought I¡¯d get¡ªI really should¡¯ve stepped out into the desert long ago. But at the same time I see where it¡¯s flawed; when the frenzy starts and we¡¯re surrounded by Demons near and far, it¡¯s all I can do not to get overwhelmed. Having Haern saves me the trouble of getting dogpiled by Demons I would otherwise be far stronger than.

    If I want to keep my head above the mess of Demons, then reasonably I should make sure Haern gets fed as well. Knowing what to do isn¡¯t the same as doing it though.

    At this¡­ infuriating behavior of mine, I wonder if this was a problem I had when I was¡­ Human. The silhouette of a woman in armor stands over at the bottom of a dune we¡¯ve long passed calls to me at the thought. Her regal manner soothes and disturbs me. She lets me know all is well with her, to leave it all and follow, but at the same time I sense my individuality stolen away by her might.

    ¡°Where are we even going?¡± Haern starts, startling me out of my existential thoughts. When I look back for the monarch she¡¯s gone. The dread brought on by her as a vision wasn¡¯t as bad as all the others. I wonder what would have happened if I approached, but Hearn¡¯s still speaking. The strain of discontent is clear as he speaks. I pick up the pace and push my senses, looking for the sign Gerim mentioned.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Since our long march began I haven¡¯t taken note of anything that could be considered a clear sign of Morthul¡¯s presence. I¡¯m not even sure what that means, what that would even look like, but I keep moving anyway. It¡¯s better to be aimlessly getting stronger in the desert than not at all, after all.

    ¡°You¡¯re not saying anything,¡± Haern points out. ¡°You don¡¯t even know where you¡¯re going, huh.¡± He snorts and picks up after me.

    ¡°Do you have a plan? Is this the plan? To wander the desert killing Demons?¡±

    I almost answer him when the sands ahead are disturbed. A Demon rises out of it, small, vulnerable, and ugly. He gets distracted as well and launches his chain at it, eager to get even a smidgen of Essence whether Pink or Crimson. Foolish¡ªconsuming Pinks worsens esq. I want to tell him not to bother, but it¡¯s better for the Seeker Blade and me in the long run.

    A light envelops the Demon, rendering it intangible and invulnerable to all attacks. I recognize the light from the royale back at Calridian¡¯s city, but also from the past few days.

    The light vanishes along with the Demon, and Haern¡¯s expression worsens. ¡°That¡¯s been happening a lot now,¡± I say.

    ¡°So?¡±

    I glance back at him but ultimately keep marching forward. Calridian was right about how Gerim sheltered me. If this is how often that light makes Demons vanish, it¡¯s no surprise Haern or anyone else is unfazed by it.

    ¡°Where do you think they go? Do they come back?¡±

    ¡°Why do you care?¡± His dissatisfaction begins to seep into his words a lot more than I can tolerate. Another stern glance at him sets him straight and he answers, ¡°I don¡¯t know, probably to the Demon Lord or whatever Noble General calls for them. I don¡¯t know if they come back, I don¡¯t think they do, but¡­ no one cares enough to find out, no one I know anyway.¡±

    He has no defined answers. And his theory that the Demon Lord or Noble Generals call them can¡¯t be true. If that was the case, then why are so many of the newborns marching westward? And the Noble Generals? I doubt that. I¡¯ve never seen the light drop a Demon off at Calridian¡¯s city. But then again, they¡¯d probably be transported directly to Calridian¡¯s lair if that were the case.

    I¡¯m not sure about any of it, but it concerns me. ¡°Ever think you¡¯re going to be next?¡±

    ¡°To vanish? Huh, I don¡¯t think about it, if I¡¯m being honest. You think you¡¯re going to vanish?¡±

    I don¡¯t have an answer to give, so I keep marching. We¡¯ve long since passed Calridian and the Queen¡¯s city, and I¡¯m not sure what else is out here. Another General maybe; I can sense one out to the east and several others in the west, surrounding what must be the Demon Lord itself. But I don¡¯t sense anything new.

    Taking the Seeker Blade in hand, I continue practicing Gerim¡¯s teachings¡ªfusing my Essence onto it, strengthening the already menacing blade. The exercise is a lot easier with the blade, likely because I¡¯ve bonded with it.

    With all of Haern¡¯s subtle whining and complaining, I¡¯m beginning to regret not stopping by at Calridian¡¯s to find out his exact location.

    But not by much.

    Calridian can¡¯t be the only person capable of giving me the answers I need. I turn to Haern and ask, ¡°What kind of Demon are you?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he says rather absentmindedly, flapping a few feet above the ground.

    ¡°I mean¡­ are you like these guys, crawled up out of the layer by the will of a Demon far greater? Or¡­ are you like me?¡±

    His flapping slows and his feet drag along the sand,.¡°Like you? Human?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not Human.¡±

    He rolls his eyes. ¡°Yeah, not anymore, but you were once.¡± I nod. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure. I¡¯ve been alive for a very long time and I¡¯ve only gotten so strong. My earliest memory¡­ well, it was of the Queen. I was stained in blood and dragging the guts of something around when she picked me. Given my age, I think I might be like these guys. A wild Demon gifted with consciousness¡­ proper consciousness anyway.¡±

    I¡¯d figured such was possible after Calridian mentioned Hargoil was his son. I figure a lot of Demons in the city are in some way his children. But I also wonder about the wild Demons, the stronger ones like the near-Maroon tier Dawern we took on.

    It had a functioning mind. It had no desire to converse with its assailants, but I could sense the outrage at being attacked in its home. It could perform magic even. I think you need some kind of consciousness for that.

    Can it be called a wild Demon then? If it possessed some form of consciousness, enough to calculate and understand what magic and mana is? I¡¯m not sure. But I think there¡¯s got to be a point of power where the wild Demons gain a consciousness.

    Otherwise it¡¯d mean the entirety of Reais is ruled by the souls of previous mortals, like myself.

    ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡± Haern asks, walking beside me now.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Having a life before now? Being Human? Coming from another place?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± I mouth and pause to think about it. What is it like? I can say with certainty that it¡¯s been awful knowing that some other world, a better one more suited for me exists¡­ well, I can¡¯t say I¡¯m suited for any mortal world now, can I.

    Here I am marching through blistering sands that spawn the ugliest creatures and on my way to kill a specific ugly bastard. No, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m suited for a Human world anymore.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ torture. I¡¯m confused and doubtful all the time, and I¡¯m tired and desperate too. I¡¯m hungry and thirsty but¡­ I don¡¯t need to eat or drink, and when I do it¡¯s not even because I¡¯m hungry. I don¡¯t like it but I can¡¯t change it¡ªat least, I don¡¯t think I can.¡±

    Haern says nothing at this, only hums and lifts off the sands again.

    We continue on like this for days, except this time I¡¯ve chosen to be a lot gracious to Haern and let him have the Crystals from the kills. The volatile mood of the desert whips back and forth as usual, and at some point I¡¯m forced to cast [Minor Illusion] to keep the rabid horde of Demons at bay. It works well: Haern strikes from above and through the wide illusion the Seeker Blade makes surgical strikes at vulnerable Demons.

    It¡¯s a costly spell to use on several subjects so it takes a lot of mana out of me. Although we can keep going, I suggest we stop and recuperate. Haern isn¡¯t opposed. His chains, like the Seeker Blade, require a constant stream of Essence and mana to work.

    While we recover health, Essence, and mana, I stare out into the void of the wailing sands and winds until I spot something. A Beast¡­ an animal of sort. Enhancing my sight, I find it¡¯s not an animal, but a look-alike Demon.

    A smile crawls onto my face. ¡°Haern, we¡¯re getting closer to our destination,¡± I say, pointing over at the Demon.

    He steals a look then turns back to me. ¡°Is that¡­ an ape?¡±

 Step 10- Hunt (P3)

    Gerim was right. There are changes all around from this point. The ape-Demons with three to four arms, sometimes a tail and a wing, not to mention the exoskeleton carapace¡ªthat¡¯s all part of it.

    Haern and I waste no time venturing into the storm. But there¡¯s something different about it. It¡¯s unlike any of the other storms, thicker. The Essence powering the storm makes it difficult to look through, and though the storm doesn¡¯t blister skin its certainly trying to bury us.

    Trudging through the layers and dunes is an exercise in strength on its own, but I¡¯d say Haern has it harder. He can¡¯t hope to fly in these winds, not unless he wants his wings ripped off his back anyway.

    From the little I can make out of the sky, I find that the storm is spiraling¡ª rotating around a fixed point. I have a good guess what that fixed point is.

    Since stepping in, we¡¯ve been washed over by some oppressive wave of a Demon¡¯s Essence, thumping and spreading all over the storm. The effects are¡­ a bit invasive. It¡¯s trying to change something in us, mold us to its will. I don¡¯t feel as strong anymore. Fighting off the pressure takes a great deal of Essence. Ambient Essence is also pressured by it, making it into a sludge, heavy and unwilling to be absorbed.

    ¡°These Demons¡­ they¡¯re all hybrids,¡± Haern points out, squinting at a Demon with the lower body of a snake and the top half of a burly red ape.

    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯ve been morphed.¡± Beyond the slithering snake-ape Demon hybrid is something else, the best and most obvious sign that I¡¯m on the right track.

    A single pillar of light. It¡¯s slightly obscured by all the sand tossed around, but that pillar of light¡ªor rather, of Essence¡ªhas to be the source of all these changes. From where we stand I¡¯m sure it pierces through the Desert Divide¡¯s regular clouds. It¡¯s rather daunting.

    This is what it is¡­ the creation of a¡­ domain.

    I¡¯ve taken to calling the ¡°places¡± domains now. A much better word, especially fitting for the scale of Essence thrown around to create one.

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯d need an expert to tell Morthul¡¯s domain is still in its fetus stage. There¡¯s a ton of Essence whipped about, the sky is pierced by a pillar of it even, but it still pales in comparison to Calridian¡¯s domain.

    There isn¡¯t a place where Calridian¡¯s influence isn¡¯t felt in the city. His hawking and swirling Demons watch everyone from above¡ªa clear threat to anyone daring to go after him. But this? The Demon hybrids scattered around are weak. The strongest would be a Crimson Level 4.

    Fodder.

    Docile fodder too. These Demons are stuck in some kind of trance. Haern often walks up and strangles the life out of them with his chains. They don¡¯t defend themselves.

    ¡°This is weird. It doesn¡¯t feel right here.¡±

    ¡°Seems too easy, right?¡± Haern says, absorbing yet another Pink. ¡°It might be a trap; you say you¡¯re here to kill the Demon behind all this, right? He might know someone¡¯s coming after him.¡±

    ¡°Of course. You think you can just add another Divide to this layer and not have someone come after you? I don¡¯t believe he¡¯d be that dumb, dumb enough to steal those items but not dumb enough not to prepare for a fallout.¡±

    Haern shrugs. ¡°Think what you want. I¡¯m just saying I¡¯ve met a lot of dumb people. Also, he might be a lot smarter than we think.¡±

    I pause at this. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°If he stole the items from Calridian like you said and he was one of his guards, then he probably knew early on that a war with Vark was brewing, likely the same time Calridian did.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    Causally ripping an arm off one of the hybrid Demons, he takes a bite and says, ¡°So, while everyone was preparing for a war, he was preparing to make it out on his own. Maybe he gathered allies or even secured this spot and tamed a few Demons to clear it out for his needs. I don¡¯t know, point is¡­ he¡¯s using this war as a distraction.¡±

    I give it some thought and it makes some sense. At least, if I were to give Morthul that much credit in his planning. This can¡¯t be all there is. If he were a guard to Calridian then he wouldn¡¯t be so incompetent to let himself¡ªan aspiring domain holder¡ªgo unguarded.

    ¡°Dumb or brilliant¡ªwhichever it is, let¡¯s keep our guard up, and maybe stop eating?¡±

    ¡°What? If they stop acting stupid they¡¯ll attack us. Better they don¡¯t have their arms to do it,¡± Haern argues.

    I roll my eyes. He makes a good point, but having to endure his chewing and gorging isn¡¯t what I need right now. ¡°Stop it.¡±

    ¡°Alright, fine. After this one though.¡±

    ¡°Ugh.¡±

    We go on trudging ahead and nothing much changes in the desert. The hybrids remain still, the storm rages, and the pillar of Essence draws closer with each step, along with a great dread at what we¡¯ll find at the center.

    We¡¯re another day into our march when something changes. Without any noticeable switch, the hybrids we come across are far stronger than others. Gleaming Crimson pumps throughout their bodies, and now they hunt.

    The Essence here, closer to the pillar, is thick enough to swish through and incapacitate. It gets in no matter what, choking and itching at the surface of the skin¡ªburning through and out wherever¡¯s left unguarded. Haern and I have to maintain a rush cycle of Essence pumping throughout every bit of our bodies lest we lose them.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    It¡¯s an expensive endeavor, but there are provisions to resupply on Essence if the need arises, provisions Haern takes too quick. Deftly, he slaughters the hybrids focused on hunting the newborns¡ªcracks of concentrated Essence implode to create new [Soul Crystals]. The Demons attached are identical to Calridian¡¯s mimicry of Morthul, except smaller and not as menacing.

    The hybrids, much like last time, offer no resistance to their deaths. I¡¯m grateful that he¡¯s taken to the exercise of it and take the good half of the Crystals he reaps to show it.

    He grumbles within as usual and we carry on. The pillar is nearly overhead after about a week of battering and slaughtering, but with the Crystal buffet we¡¯ve been treated to I can sense I¡¯m right along the edge of leveling my [Soul Crystal] as well.

    I can appreciate the pillar of Essence spearing through the clouds as the central array in this whole thing. The pillar is the center of change, transforming all that was into all that will be. There¡¯s a change in the sands; they aren¡¯t the same as the deserts. Softer, almost turning into a kind of soil rather than the barren waste that is the Desert Divide.

    I suppose that¡¯s the first two things you¡¯d want to change: the land and the people living on it. The pillar acts to that effort, but it¡¯s got some ways to go, which is why the Demons here are so docile. It¡¯s given no commands and it hasn¡¯t let them grow a consciousness either. We¡¯re safe, for now.

    Though the further we thread through the sandy soil toward the pillar, the subtler changes in the Demons go unnoticed. Their strengths have doubled from before, and so has their intelligence. They¡¯ve begun to group themselves and herd one another¡ªI¡¯m not sure if this is an instinctual action or one of the few commands given by the pillar, but it¡¯s disconcerting to have them watch us.

    ¡°Are you sure they won¡¯t attack?¡± Haern says privately, cautious that they¡¯ve developed telepathy strong enough to decrypt open thought.

    They¡¯re Demons, Haern, of course I¡¯m not sure.

    Their eyes follow us, shifting their stances as we approach. It¡¯s telling of what¡¯s to come in the next lap of our journey to the center of the storm.

    I think we should prepare for the next group; if these guys feel hostile then we¡¯re definitely walking into a fight soon.

    Before Haern can respond, a low rumbling resounds throughout. We share a look in the eerie silence that follows, then turn to the Demons creeping forth, surrounding us.

    Even though the billowing winds of the storm have come to a halt, sand rains from the sky, bathing and seasoning us before supper.

    Fuck.

    Haern¡¯s chain snaps out in an arc wider than I¡¯ve seen, ready and fueled since we¡¯ve been on guard all this time. He takes the front and I take the back, launching out the Seeker Blade, bursting with Essence. It lodges right in the chest of one of the Morthul-esque Demons and I snap my fingers.

    The Seeker Blade shoves all the Essence I¡¯d coated it in, injecting the Demon with a lethal dose of volatile Essence, blowing it up and showering anything close by with Demon shrapnel.

    Gerim would be proud.

    Nearly buried in the raining sand, Haern and I have to fight the soil and the Demons in an attempt to escape their ambush. There¡¯s a flood of them, so much more than the Demons in the vicinity when the change happened.

    I think this is storm-wide. I mean, the pillar-! I start to tell Haern, slashing across a throat and spearing through guts.

    ¡°I know. It¡¯s all of them, the entire¡­ the entire Divide is after us!¡±

    He¡¯s got access to an easier escape than I do. With his wings free, he rips himself off the soil and flaps off to freedom¡ªand the Demons leap after his feet, jumping over one another to get a hold of him as he stretches the chains. They¡¯re dripping with green acid and corroding everything around, myself included.

    Hissing at him, I don¡¯t have time to bother shouting at him to watch his attacks¡ªif I don¡¯t dislodge myself soon, my minion will surely abandon me.

    The sands, mixed and fused with Essence as thick as that of the pillar¡ªin the dreary light of the Desert Divide the pillar is a scar, a scar pumping out Demons like it¡¯s overflowing¡ªis being made strong and heavy because of the pillar¡¯s power.

    Grunting, I empower the Seeker Blade again and it¡¯s off whipping through the crowds above me, zipping through throats, crotchs, mouths, eyes, and hearts. However, these are Demons¡ªvital points aren¡¯t exactly vital anymore.

    And so they beat me. Bashing and cracking their fists against my [Armored Form], relentless in their smashing and with poor footing, the Morthul-esque Demons pin me down.

    Without mercy or thought for one another, their fists and feet graze my arms, chest, and head as much as they hit one another. The Seeker Blade does its best dropping foes, though to drop them I have to know where their Crystals are and have the blade dig it out for me. But under this assault I barely know up from down.

    The Demons closest to my face suddenly slip apart, cut through and melted by a corrosive green sludge. Haern hasn¡¯t abandoned me.

    ¡°Are you surprised? You better be!¡± he hollers down, but I can sense through the brief connection that he too faces troubles. He needs my help as much as I need his.

    He slices through another set, and I know that¡¯s all the help he can offer because he yelps outloud afterward. The hybrids have arrived. Apes equipped with wings just like his assault him in the air, pulling him toward oblivion: a reality I¡¯m faced with already.

    Getting an arm and a leg free, I manage a twist and knock them off. They stumble but don¡¯t stop with their intent. Back on my feet, the sand turns loose and the apes forge forward. The Seeker Blade swerves a bit, slicing at their ankles and hamstrings. They¡¯ll heal quick if they know what they¡¯re doing, but these Demons are still mindless. There¡¯s little tactic to their attacks other than to attack. And so with their feet taken away, many sink faster than I do, freeing me from more enemies to face off.

    Haern plummets but shreds and kills several hybrids as he flourishes his chain about him. The enemies on top of us are thinning but the surge beyond the horizon, the marching army we passed by on our way here, are the real threat.

    Wriggling my feet out, I feed the Seeker Blade with Essence and let it continue ripping out sinew and tendons while I gather the might of my mana for a spell.

    ¡°Alhak za!¡± I start the chant, spreading a coat of mana outward as a dome. ¡°Alhak za!¡± the dome stretches over us, covering even Haern and the swarm of hybrids.

    ¡°Alhak za!¡± I exclaim and the mana rains down, delivering my illusion to every one within the dome, including Hearn.

    Seamlessly as though no spell was cast, the apes and hybrids and even Haern go manic. Their eyes see everyone and everything as an enemy, including themselves. I rush over to Hearn and toss him out of the dome, sparing him from the maw of a hybrid.

    Letting the Seeker do justice to all, I hurry after Hearn, trying best not to let the sand consume me. The pillar of Essence thumps and more Demons flood through, but we¡¯re already here.

    Groaning, Haern stands as though he¡¯s just woken from sleep. He laments my spell, but I¡¯ve tuned him out to gape at the figure below the dune we¡¯re standing on. It¡¯s Morthul.

    ¡°Shut up, that¡¯s the one, the real one. We kill him and we end this madness.¡±

    He mutters something but finds what I¡¯m looking at and sighs. ¡°Sure, but don¡¯t you think we¡¯ll have to beat that golem?¡±

    Morthul hangs at the heart of the pillar of Essence, a blaring red circle that sears the sand as Demons pour through. A couple meters ahead of him stands a golem. It¡¯s of the same make as all the other apes and hybrids except several feet taller and wider. Its fists alone would take off my head and shoulders, and a powerful Blood Orange Crystal pumps at its heart.

    ¡°Yeah, I see it. That might be a problem.¡± Just another on the heap.

 Step 11- Pacts

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 7years, 5months

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.8¡ª 365.2esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 31

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 26

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry], [Faithless Essence Amplification]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 0]

    Traits: [Armored Form]- Lvl.2, [Greater Cognizance]- Lvl.4, [Psychic Resistance]- Lvl.5, [Quick Mold]- Lvl.5

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: [Invisibility]- Lvl.1, [Minor Illusion]- Lvl.2

    Patron: Nil

    <hr>

    I have the dome follow me after Haern says it has no effect on him. It costs a load of mana for each feature of the [Minor Illusion], taking nearly all the mana I¡¯ve got. Maintaining it isn¡¯t easy either, the clock runs on how long I can keep the Demons confused and attacking each other, and even then, there are some Demons who are resistant to the effect. They aren¡¯t difficult to deal with; most of the time we don¡¯t have to as their counterparts rush at them from all sides.

    As the seconds tick by, Haern and I stare down at the golem guarding Morthul from our perch. There¡¯s no doubt that the moment we get close enough to Morthul to pull him out of the Pillar and stop his cleaving of the layer, the giant Demon statue will come to life and take ours.

    A divide-and-conquer tactic won¡¯t work. I¡¯m keeping the hordes at bay and Haern¡¯s far too weak to hope to fight the golem, even as a distraction. I¡¯d love to deceive him into thinking he can, but I¡¯d rather not have him die in vain.

    Rushing at it with the confused Demons beside us? No, we¡¯ve already seen resistance to the spell, and if we¡¯ve learned anything about that pillar, it¡¯s that Demons are stronger the closer they are to it. We¡¯d be launching ourselves into a bottomless pit. There are hundreds of them, never mind the golem, and dealing with them all is implausible.

    ¡°Magic would help a lot right now,¡± Haern says, swallowing yet another of the corpses that pile around us.

    ¡°Do you know any?¡±

    ¡°No, but I¡¯ve seen some real powerful arts,¡± he starts with a full mouth, hands shoving in more Demon bits. I let him gorge as I concern myself with Crystals. I¡¯ve found that Demons with stronger Crystals are the best to consume.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen some myself.¡± Gerim¡¯s flash of ice quills stabbing and freezing the side of the monstrous Dawern come to mind. I regret not pressing him to teach me more, but he wouldn¡¯t have no matter how long I whined. His lesson plan was rigid, so much so that I wonder if I truly have no way toward Morthul¡¯s [Soul Crystal].

    He said I was ready after I cast [Minor Illusion]¡ªthe first of my [Spells] to level. For one, I can see the use of the spell rather plainly, but that use runs out if I step any further away from this dune.

    What else have I learned since?

    [Invisibility]? Combined with the effects of my illusions, I suppose I could frustrate some of the Demons chasing me¡ªbut the golem would still be a problem. Golem aside, that doesn¡¯t account for Haern. He¡¯ll be plucked out of the sky once I change the function of the illusion, and I still have use of him.

    With a sigh, I continue the absorption of the Crystals Morthul¡¯s Demons are feeding me. Haern¡¯s grown a bit stronger by the look of him. His wings are wider and so is the rest of him. I¡¯d place him right behind me for the vigor of his consumption, even though many of the Crystals lacked substance.

    I¡¯m still teetering on the edge of Crimson Level 8. Level 9 and Blood Orange taunt me, and I¡¯m tempted to rush right into Morthul¡¯s suffocating pillar of Essence and¡­ and¡­ wait!

    ¡°Haern! I have a plan.¡±

    He startles a bit but his face brightens. ¡°Finally, I thought this was it. Feast on the edge of a new Divide¡¯s birth and ascend to Crimson.¡±

    ¡°That was the plan for a bit, but I¡¯ve got a better one. Get me all the Crystals, all of them.¡±

    I help Haern gather the Crystals we¡¯ve horded and even slaughter a few dozen more of the sacrificial Demons Morthul and his pillar keep throwing at us. Soon we¡¯ve got a mountain of Crystals, all of varying powers. Around a few hundred making up a strong Blood Orange; not nearly enough esq to bring me to Blood Orange when divided by three, but enough to bring me through to it and more than enough for a single blast of power.

    Haern stares at the pile hungrily while I prepare the Essence within my [Soul Crystal] to do something I likely shouldn¡¯t even attempt without Gerim or Calridian here to supervise.

    But there¡¯s nothing else to do. Either we run back out the way we came, a full two-week journey through Morthul¡¯s chaos and let him rip a new Divide in the wartorn layer, or we end him now, by whatever means necessary.

    I¡¯ve only seen it once, and even then I didn¡¯t have the tools to understand what I was looking at. Gerim¡¯s given me those tools now, taught me that the power behind a soul is it¡¯s will¡ªI think that¡¯s what his lessons were truly about. Not teaching me how to explode Demons with an infusion of Essence, but teaching me about the will behind the Essence I conjure, behind my soul. It must be undisputed, regardless of esq.

    When we left for the assault on Zark, I didn¡¯t have any of the things I do now. Suddenly I¡¯m glad I let him take me with. The struggles against the [Agir] have given me the persistence I need to make my will undisputable.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Seated cross-legged in front of the Crystals, in front of Morthul and his golem, I take a calming breath and open my [Soul Crystal], letting my Essence seep out. The Seeker Blade sits beside me, limp and impotent as I pull away all my energy and thought from it.

    For a Demon, I¡¯m in the most vulnerable state I can be. Haern knows this. He stares down at me, angered at first, thinking I¡¯m about swallow the heap of nearly two hundred Crystals. But for all his greed he¡¯s anything but dumb. He carries his chains and continues slaughtering and feasting, keeping a keen watch on me and my target.

    The Pillar of Essence.

    As my [Soul Crystal] Crimson Level 8 empties out over the heap, I sense the pressure of my own power for the first time. It¡¯s meager compared to everything I¡¯m surrounded by, meager compared even to the pile of Crystals before me. But I don¡¯t let that fact get to me.

    Without much bother, I butter and spread the Essence over every surface of the pile, lifting it off the sand so it levitates as a sphere. Essence wrapped around it, I take the time forming the pile of Crystals into a ball, but there are already reactions. Sparks fly and Crystals hum with internal Essence, struggling against the outside invader.

    But this is a mere pile of separate and untethered [Soul Crystals]. There¡¯s no will behind the souls.

    Brows furrowing and sweat dripping, I crush the resistance under the pressure of my will. Directing them to do as I wish, there¡¯s no other alternative other than to obey. Calridian did this once for Crystals much stronger than this; the lightning crackling and zipping at me in defiance is nothing compared to what Calridian has managed.

    Although I don¡¯t know the details of how he did it, I exert my will over the heap in front of me and force them to do it.

    Ten shatter, leaking out valuable Essence. I don¡¯t pay them any mind.

    Another five go and I sneer, feeling the escaped Essence bite against my own, loosening the shell I¡¯ve wrapped around the heap.

    ¡°Nil.¡± Haern¡¯s voice in my head is not a distraction I can afford, yet I can¡¯t shut him out, ¡°Nil, the golem¡­ I think it knows what you¡¯re trying to do.¡±

    Great, a time limit is just what I need¡­

    My eyes remain sealed and the strain worsens. Exerting my will over the remaining Crystals, I direct the Essence shrouding the surface to push back on every Crystal it touches. Slowly, my Essence punches through the Crystals, taking the Essence within with it as it travels to the center.

    ¡°Almost done,¡± I manage.

    My Essence continues to burrow through the heap, compressing and transforming the foreign Essence into an instrument for unimpeded advance to the center of the sphere.

    I catch the hasty flurry of Haern¡¯s chains along with the unmistakable stomps of a golem now awake and curse under my breath. The dome of [Minor Illusion] I maintained leaves me too, and the confusion is no more.

    I thought I was vulnerable before, but now my heart pounds in my chest with each stomp the golem takes and each enraged flurry of chains I hear. I can¡¯t lose now, I can¡¯t. Not when I¡¯ve got no answers, no locations, no true enemy to rage at.

    Gritting my teeth, I find my last hurdle becomes consolidating all the Essence into one Crystal. It could break, it could snap and shatter, and that would be it for me. For Haern. For all my hatred at these faceless Gods my vengeance would be an empty threat.

    No.

    Snapping my eyes open, I rise and find that the sphere of Crystals has shed weight. Only one remains with a cloud of Essence almost as thick as Morthul¡¯s insane pillar. I shove my hand through and grab the last Crystal. The golem snarls at me and roars, axe in hand as it rages at my threat.

    With a final, desperate squeeze and an insertion of will, the cloud of Essence snaps into the last [Soul Crystal], setting my hand on fire but empowering me.

    [Blood Orange Soul Crystal]- Lvl.6

    Without a word to Haern, I snatch the Seeker Blade and meet the golem¡¯s charge.

    It roars and I roar back. All my useable Essence resides in the Crystal burning my hand now. I can¡¯t go faster, I can¡¯t reinforce my body, I can¡¯t do anything but roar at the victory that I must have. Clasping the Seeker Blade in hand, my focus is on the gleaming Blood Orange Crystal embedded in its chest. The Essence of two hundred Crystals and my own combined surely won¡¯t be enough for what I need.

    The golem ignites the axe in hand with a coat of wind. I know what it intends to do. It reaches me faster than I anticipated, but I¡¯m still prepared when it swings. Sliding underneath the swing, I slap the burning [Soul Crystal] onto the pommel of the Seeker Blade and it reacts beautifully.

    I duck underneath the golem as the Blade accepts the new source of power and bursts forth, transformed into a new weapon, a weapon I recognize. A Lance.

    Longer reach, sharper edge. It slices through the golem and glances off the [Soul Crystal] powering it. Grasping the Lance, I measure myself and make the effort to cut the golem in half. The Crystal pops off, rattling in the air and landing in my waiting palm.

    The golem¡¯s two halves fall and I pant, staring at the luxurious Lance I¡¯ve locked in my fist. My vision splits as the waking nightmare taunts me at the worst possible time. Annoyed and robbed of the chance to appreciate the weapon¡¯s beauty, I separate the first [Soul Crystal] from the Lance so it transforms back into the short blade I¡¯ve grown fond of.

    I take a moment to appreciate the risks I¡¯ve taken and the reward at the end of this instead. The enemy still remains in front of me and behind me, where Haern is slowly being overwhelmed. I know what I have to do, but I hesitate.

    Haern, I¡­ I have to kill Morthul. I can¡¯t turn back now. I¡¯m too weak.

    ¡°Too weak? You just took down that golem, a Blood Orange tier for all intents and purposes.¡± Even though I¡¯m nowhere close to him, his impression floods my mind as we speak. He¡¯s afraid.

    You¡¯ll survive. Once I break Morthul¡¯s pillar, all those Demons will forget you¡¯re the enemy, they¡¯ll stop obeying his instructions.

    I catch another one of his magnificent flourishes. Heads roll and limbs are lost as he takes to the air, but he¡¯s smacked down instantly by another hybrid Demon.

    ¡°You will survive, Haern! You will!¡± I¡¯m sure it¡¯s the last thing I¡¯ll ever say to him. I rush through the Demons coming at me, exploiting their lumbering bodies and taking advantage of my agile footing to make my way to Morthul. I have a gut feeling Morthul won¡¯t be very pleased at his dethronement.

    While I run and dodge and punch and kick and slash my way through to it, I work on the acquired Crystal, bullying the Essence within the Blood Orange Level 3 Crystal with the other until both combine into a sharp and large Blood Orange Level 7.

    It¡¯s the highest I¡¯ve ever seen and I¡¯m more than tempted to absorb it all, to ascend to Blood Orange at long last and run back to help Haern. I could form the Crystal sphere again, steal the Essence of another two hundred Demons, maybe even four hundred with how strong I would become. But I know there¡¯s no time left. Morthul is awake in there, and the cut he¡¯s making in the layer, the Divide he¡¯s tearing out for himself, is becoming permanent.

    I can¡¯t afford that. So I run, and when I reach the ridge where a giant, red, pulsating ritual circle with several of what looks like Calridian¡¯s stolen artifacts floating around it, I pull on the power of the [Soul Crystal] burning in my hand.

    I see Morthul inside the red of the Pillar, the oppressive presence of him. He sneers down at me but does nothing to attack or defend. Even the Demons he¡¯s spawned don¡¯t move. Whether he¡¯s seen that this is the greatest pinnacle of power he will ever achieve and is satisfied with that or something else, I don¡¯t know and don¡¯t care.

    Savagely, I punch through the pillar and it takes off all my skin, muscle, and flesh. I scream in agony. Gripping the Seeker Blade desperately, I roar out defiance and use what Gerim has taught me.

    To achieve this pillar of Essence, to achieve the spawning and modification of Demons and terraforming of the layer¡ªto do any of this, you¡¯ve got to be vulnerable, you have to open your [Soul Crystal] to the world. Morthul, with the help of these artifacts, has essentially put a grip on the layer, coated it with his Essence and forced it to bend to his will. The same way I did to the two hundred Crystals.

    Screaming out in defiance, I let the Seeker Blade go and it snaps across the ritual circle, breaking through each and every last artifact in place before snapping back into my hand. Whatever power they gave him is gone.

    The pillar of Essence flickers and a look of dread, shock, and loss washes through Morthul¡¯s ugly mug and I grin, teeth gritted in pain and mind directing the Essence of a Blood Orange Level 7 to destroy Morthul¡¯s vulnerable [Soul Crystal].

    He rages in an agony even I can¡¯t imagine. My arm may be bones, but his soul is on fire.

    Breathing a ragged sigh, I fall to my knees and stare up at the sky. My ears ring with a high pitch and my vision blurs. I¡¯m as weak as a low Crimson tier with my [Soul Crystal] empty.

    I close my eyes for a moment of respite but soon peel them open as a light bubbles around me. A purple light.

 Step 11- Pacts (P2)

    [!!!]

    [Contested Mortal Realm!]

    [Minor Connection¡ª Nil]

    [Greater Connection¡ª Nil]

    [Ire-Reais 616 Friction¡ª 13%] [1<sup>st</sup> Ripple in¡­ Undetermined.]

    <hr>

    A tender wind blows, tickling my nose with a scent of wet wood. That¡¯s all I need to know I¡¯m no longer in Reais.

    I¡¯m surrounded by fire, lamps¡ªno, torches. The hair in my nostrils tingles at the iron stain of blood. I catch the sight of a dozen crumpled corpses oozing the red metal. There¡¯s someone else. Alive. People. Round, soft faces, dark and light skin variations, bipedal, clothed, armored and armed. Humans? No, something else.

    There¡¯s a lurch in my heart when one makes a noise as it looks up at me, eyes glimmering in awe, heart racing and grinning all the while. There¡¯s something wrong. Uncomfortable, I groan and snarl at it, ¡°Where am I? Who are you?¡±

    It bites back in some language, aggressive and eliciting cheers from the group of hominids behind her. My ears ring and my vison blurs and when I recover them¡ªshe is speaking to someone. The language is ugly, all lip movement, very little use of the tongue.

    There¡¯s something wrong. I¡¯m horribly empty. I¡¯m full of mana but drained of all my strength, all my Essence. At first I¡¯m puzzled and furious, but as I groan at the discomfort I recall what happened.

    Haern.

    That¡¯s right. Haern, he must have survived. I blink. There are stones in my sight, everything has a stone in it. The light is different and in the dark of the light there¡¯s so little of it. A shudder racks through my body as it recognizes the odd misalignment of this new place.

    I¡¯m fast to work out the serene unity of this new layer, the absence of any division whatsoever. There aren¡¯t any searing differences between sections, there¡¯s no friction with powers. It¡¯s all unified, all one.

    That¡¯s not all either. The mana within me bubbles, far more reactive to my thoughts, and so is the thread of mana outside. They¡¯re thicker, easier to catch and absorb. Sensing this, I know my [Spells] will have greater effect here. I¡¯m tempted to explore the limits of what I can do with [Invisibility] and [Minor Illusion], but there are dire matters to attend to.

    Despite being whole and rich with mana, this layer lacks Essence and I¡¯m empty. My [Soul Crystal] is gasping for Essence but I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any here, at least not in the atmosphere. There¡¯s nothing for me to passively absorb and restore my strength.

    Floundering in Essence starvation, I reach into the atmosphere for any specks of the precious power source. Dread creeps into me as the nearest bit of Essence anywhere on this layer is far enough away that I won¡¯t be able to stay awake long enough to draw on it.

    Go to it.

    Yes. Obviously. Still lacking orientation, I stumble into my first steps on this layer¡ªif I can even call it that¡ªstartling many of the creatures gathered into defensive stances, weapons drawn and hands flaring with mana.

    Small. They¡¯re all so short. But they¡¯ve got mana, and that means magic. With the few glimpses of what magic is capable of, I¡¯m not sure I want to go against so many at once. But then I hear horrendous chatter behind me. The sound of it from that woman¡¯s mouth brings a terrible lurching in my heart. I meet her gaze and she¡¯s still grinning, passing nods at the others around me. She speaks again, a carnal, raw language this time, and I understand.

    ¡°Hello, you are a D-tier Demon, aren¡¯t you? What is your name?¡±

    Don¡¯t tell her!

    My lips press and the emptiness spreads¡ªI need Essence. You must let me go, I tell her, my sights set toward the direction of the small cache of Essence I sensed. There¡¯s very little I can do with myself as it is, but telepathy is one of my traits I can spare without so much consequence. Yet when I speak into her mind I sense the tension against my words, like there¡¯s a net, several nets between my mind and hers.

    She¡¯s the leader here and possibly the one who brought me here. Is this where Demons vanish to in that light? To her?

    The purple light that swallowed me, did it swallow anything else? My eyes dart around and I almost miss the blade lying in the dirt of the woods. The Seeker Blade. It¡¯s a relief to have it with me, even if Haern and most of my strength is gone.

    The people holler at their leader in fear¡ªthey¡¯ve followed my look to the blade. Color drains from the woman¡¯s face, and I figure if they¡¯re afraid of an attack they can¡¯t be that strong, right?

    A whip of searing light shoots out from the ground and ties around my arms and ankles before I can order the blade to rise. The whip strains against my defiant pull, and against the light it sheds I find the dirt floor is stained with a bloody circle. The lights sprout out of some of the symbols strewn over.

    One of the hominids runs over to pick up the Seeker Blade, but my mood has gotten worse. It snaps out through his spine, severing him completely before twirling around to point at their leader.

    ¡°Let me go,¡± I command with an annoyed snarl. The woman and all others pale at the sight of their severed friend. The others incapable of speaking that carnal language bark at her, brandishing weapons, but most have fled already.

    My nose crinkles at this, frustrated, so I cast, ¡°Alhak za.¡±

    My dome erects. ¡°Alhak za.¡±

    Mana rains, enchanting everyone under the dome to my spell. ¡°Alhak za.¡±

    I turn to the woman beside me, the one with the carnal tongue, their leader. Her minions have all fallen silent now, but she¡¯s still startled at the death of the man and the blade spinning threateningly at her face.

    In the moments before casting the spell I sent Seeker to kill her, or at least injure her. But there¡¯s a barrier. Even as she stands within the circle, stands beside me¡ªthere¡¯s something keeping me from attacking her. My spell is the same. Either there¡¯s no effect or she¡¯s resistant.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    When I snap my fingers, they will kill each other, I say, feeling the extent of how the mana-rich environment has changed the limits of my spell. If I can¡¯t kill her and be freed, then I must bargain. I had no leverage to bargain with, so I¡¯ve taken a few.

    Stiff as a board, her neck shifts to see her friends, the hominids she minded and flaunted into standing still, watching and studying one another with murderous glares. The battle royale starts when I say so.

    She scoffs at the sight, then looks back at me, ¡°So, you are a D-tier Demon then.¡±

    I don¡¯t know what that means. Free me or your friends will die.

    She doesn¡¯t move. The startled look washes off her face to present a morbid curiosity as she examines me. ¡°Your Crystal¡­ no, you can¡¯t be a D-tier, you¡¯re only glowing a bit darker than regular E-tiers but not as deep as regular D-tiers.¡±

    Blood Orange.

    With that thought, I realize what she means. This woman with pointed ears, a round, scarred face and tender lips has studied Demons and classified them. From the way she looks at me, I figure she¡¯s studying me too.

    ¡°But you¡­ you¡¯re unlike anything I¡¯ve summoned before. Eight feet tall and very¡­ human looking.¡±

    I raise an eyebrow at that, but the emptiness crashes against me. Let me out of here. Your friends¡ª

    ¡°No, these aren¡¯t my friends. They¡¯re just sad, guilty people who feel remorse for me and mine. They¡¯re the sympathetic oppressors I¡¯ve summoned you to destroy. Their sympathy means nothing.¡±

    She lies.

    I know, I tell¡­ wait¡­ who is¡­? Biting my lip, I return my focus on the woman. Whatever or whoever that voice is speaks the truth. She¡¯s lying.

    Then you won¡¯t mind if I have them torture each other. ¡°Alhak za.¡±

    Adding a new feature and reinforcing the spell is necessary. Although I captured the lot rather easily, they¡¯re feisty fighters. Their minds and bodies resist the new exploratory effects of [Minor Illusion], but not completely.

    There are ten of them left. I line them up against each other and have them undress, then pick the bluntest tools in their arsenal. All while watching the woman before me. She can¡¯t look up at me and she can¡¯t look at her friends either, so she pretends to be fascinated by the Seeker Blade.

    Snapping my fingers, my victims get to work. They¡¯re well equipped so I make them go slow, sliding their knives, arrow heads, and swords into each other. The greatest of the fighter¡¯s groans¡ªa small woman with a strong affinity for magic by the looks of it. My spell has taken her but not her mind, she¡¯s conscious when her friend presses his arrows through her side.

    It¡¯d have taken a lot out of me to cast an illusion on muscles before. But this place is¡­ very rich.

    [Minor Illusion] has always attacked the main five senses to cause confusion, but now, either because these are hominids and not Demons or because of how rich with reactive mana the atmosphere is, I can direct my deception in a precise manner. I cut at the reflexive part of her mind, the part that snaps out to defend, parry, slash, cut, punch¡ªfight back. I¡¯ve tricked it into activity, into thinking the person before her will attack, and it¡¯s not a complete lie, as they do attack. Over time it¡¯ll become easier and I won¡¯t even have to spend much mana on it.

    Her arm juts out against her control and stabs, pulls out and stabs again, all while the better part of her sobs at the nightmare.

    Look at that one. I point for their leader She¡¯s terrified. She knows she¡¯ll die today and she knows she can live another day if only you free me.

    A chorus of strained groans echoes throughout. Over and over again their arms move against their will to inflict injury. But following their eyes, I see they¡¯re all more bothered with their leader¡¯s inaction.

    They¡¯re asking why you aren¡¯t killing me or sending me back, I tell her. Her lip has formed a straight line by now, her fists balled up and turning white. Free me now, while they can still live!

    She turns away from them and I find tears in her eyes as she stares up at me. There¡¯s little hatred, barely any to be found, even though I¡¯m torturing and mutilating her friends.

    I let them scream, but only because I force them to hack off their limbs.

    She flinches and says, ¡°Accept your fate now, Demon. You are bound to me. You are my servant and you will destroy what I set you upon.¡±

    Terrible liar.

    It¡¯s hard to hear you over Henry¡¯s yelling. What¡¯s he so upset about? I turn to look. Oh, he¡¯s lost an eye.

    She glances toward Henry, a strong man with a good physique. Looking into their minds in this panicked state is no trouble, there¡¯s so much information. They all started thinking the same thing when I let them wake¡ªhow to escape. Their minds ran through [Spells] and prayers that could free them, but with their mouths and mobility stripped from them there¡¯s nothing they can do.

    Henry takes a one-eyed look of his leader and the pleas start again, desperate, hungry¡­ sexual.

    Oh, Valery. She gasps at her name. Fear racks through her for the first time, and she stumbles away from me as I step to the edge of the circle and barrier keeping me in place. Henry¡­ for all the pain you¡¯re making him endure, he¡¯s thinking of the bed and nights you shared. Should I tell him what you truly think of him? That he¡¯s nothing but a sympathetic beast, an oppressor of you and yours?

    ¡°Let him go!¡±

    Let me go!

    ¡°I can¡¯t, not yet, the spell, it¡­ I can¡¯t let you out without you sworn and bound to me.¡±

    This one lies a lot.

    Yes, she does.

    A moment ago you said to accept my fate, that I am bound. Thank you for revealing the truth. Now, unless you want Henry to lose his balls¡­ free me.

    She doesn¡¯t bother with me; rather, she runs out to him and tries to tackle the woman who¡¯s doing my good work on his anatomy. I have Henry slash at her and smile as the attack connects.

    Indirect.

    Yes. Anything following my direct commands won¡¯t work on her. My [Spells] and physical attacks won¡¯t work on her. I can¡¯t affect her mind or her body, but a disillusioned puppet thinking she¡¯s a monster should slay her nicely.

    I snap my fingers and stop them from hurting each other. One falls over dead, entrails spilling out, and I groan. Overwriting my previous controls, I speak into their minds as Valery sprawls on the floor, nursing the cut on her arm.

    There are nine of you left. Several of you have healing abilitie., I will set you free to heal yourselves once you kill Valery.

    I can¡¯t force them into attacking Valery now, can¡¯t paint her as an aggressive monster. They already know this is all an illusion, but Valery¡¯s inaction at their torture is as true as the night sky.

    I barely lift a finger before eight of them surround Valery. Henry groans over his eye but doesn¡¯t move against her. I¡¯d think him full of valor, but he doesn¡¯t do anything to protect her either.

    Valery screams as one of her friends grab her by the hair and another tries to knock her teeth out but is too weak. The others brandish their weapons and get ready to stab out her eyes.

    I¡¯ve taken their speech again and watch their minds closely for anyone more knightly than Henry¡ªthere¡¯s none. Whatever friendship was here before I was summoned has been destroyed.

    ¡°Aarggh! Wind Scythe!¡± Valery roars. A gust of wind carries beneath her and shreds my meat puppets and her former friends to bits before setting her on her feet. A blade falls out of her sleeve and she marches toward Henry, tears pouring down her face.

    I snap my fingers.

    ¡°Valery, wait! Wait!¡± Henry screams, hands raised in defense. ¡°Please, please don¡¯t do this. Just let it go, let it go back. Banish it, free it, whatever it wants, but please don¡¯t choose it over us,¡± he points accusingly at me.

    Valery¡¯s murderous charge falters. She blinks tears away and glances at me. ¡°You¡­ you.¡± She gulps, then looks back to Henry. ¡°Henry, if you¡¯re there, in the background of the Demon¡¯s control, I need you to hear me. I- I¡¯m sorry, I love¡­ I loved you, I wanted to stop and try it your way, from the inside, but Lumina¡­ I have to save her and I¡¯ve vowed myself to Hescaria. It comes before anything else.¡±

    Her grip on the blade tightens and I sneer. ¡°Valery, I love you too, you can let me live and attack your oppressors without compromising anything! Plea-¡± She cuts his throat open and stares back at me, rage burning at last.

    ¡°They¡¯re called the Sainid Empire, not just oppressors. They hate Elves and they¡¯ve taken my people as slaves. Help me free them and you will win your freedom, Demon.¡±

    She tosses the blade away and raises her fingers. ¡°I would have stopped you if I had the mana, but I had to wait¡­ I should have bought potions. This one¡¯s on me, but the next time you see me¡­ I want an answer, not threats.¡± She snaps her fingers and a horrid ringing runs through me.

    She chants something in that language and my knees buckle. I groan as my dome falls and the Seeker Blade plummets, limp without my control. My vision blurs and she kicks my head as I fall into a slumber I dread.

 Step 11- Pacts (P3)

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 34years, 8months

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.8¡ª 358.2esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 31

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 26

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry], [Faithless Essence Amplification]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 0]

    Traits: [Armored Form]- Lvl.2, [Greater Cognizance]- Lvl.4, [Psychic Resistance]- Lvl.5, [Quick Mold]- Lvl.5

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: [Invisibility]- Lvl.1, [Minor Illusion]- Lvl.2

    Patron: Nil

    <hr>

    The indiscernible sound of gibberish breaks through the black. Something growls at my feet, snapping and slobbering at them. I snort and my nostrils bleed, cut by the rush of air¡ªit¡¯s long gone without any use.

    My mouth hangs open, my tongue dry and cracking. It bleeds as I move it free from its position. The crust on my eyes snaps free and light seeps in to blind me. Slowly, I break myself free of the lethargy of slumber and my quiet hearts beats with activity.

    I snatch a coherent glimpse at my stat and find a particular bit ridiculous.

    Age: Immortal - 34years

    My jaws cracks and I croak out the number. ¡°Twenty-seven years¡­.¡± Light stings my eyes, but I recover quickly and find myself suspended above a large pit leading to a zoo of prowling monsters. And then out ahead of me, standing some feet away are two of people standing. One gapes and the other has a thin frown on her soft lips¡ªValery.

    She¡¯s older than she was when I saw her, not by much, but for an Elf or half-Elf she¡¯s lost all the feign of youth. Her scars have multiplied, though they¡¯re merely darker strips of skin, nothing like the one slicing through her upper arm. The one I had Henry put there.

    A smirk crawls on my lips. I spit out the blood and mucor mixed in my mouth and the ravenous beasts below swallow it and roar.

    Elf.

    There¡¯s a younger one beside Valery. Ears shorter with a thinner point, I figure she¡¯s the full-blooded out of the two and her true years would be lost on her pouted face. Unlike Valery¡¯s glaring in bare undergarments, the Elf wears a smooth silk gown and carries a ball of light in her hand. She carries an air of elegance even in undesirable places, but the pace she comes to terms with things is disconcerting.

    She snaps at Valery and Valery mutters what must be half-hearted apologies before snapping back at her, Lumina. From my encounter with Valery, I know who she is¡ªLumina, the Elven sister she summoned me to save.

    Already saved.

    That¡¯s right. She¡¯s here with Valery, safe and in one piece. Hope blossoms in me that, after keeping me prisoner for nearly three decades, Lumina, who seems to be Valery¡¯s more dignified and reasonable sister, has come to free me.

    My mood sours as the thought of just how much time I¡¯ve lost crosses my mind once more. It was different before, when I first woke up to find Valery¡¯s devilish gaze of wonderment. Then only moments had passed. I¡¯m sure I could¡¯ve returned to Calridian, harvested the Essence of hundreds, no, thousands of droned Demons. I could¡¯ve saved Haern should he have needed it¡ªI¡¯m certain he did¡ªand I would have learned about the Gods I¡¯ve been chasing, the enemies I loathe.

    I would¡¯ve returned a Blood Orange tier, a potential rival to Haern and a better to Hargoil. I¡¯d have joined the war and reaped my way to Maroon tier. I would have grown.

    But now I¡¯m here. The atmosphere is still without Essence, but I¡¯m not as empty as I felt when I first awoke.

    Prisoner.

    Yes¡­ I¡¯ve been her prisoner. Valery¡¯s found and fed my [Soul Crystal] the Essence it needed. Immortal though I am, there¡¯s always a bit of Essence left over in my Crystal to keep me alive, but when there¡¯s nothing else in front of that base all I have to go on as a defense or even as an offense is mana. But now I¡¯ve got some Essence to spare.

    Flexing it throughout my body, cracks and pops echo around the room as the Essence my body has missed so much rejuvenates it. Letting out a content sigh, I interrupt the quarreling sisters. ¡°Lumina,¡± I say aloud, startling both of them.

    Valery jumps over stair railings and stomps over to me. She glares up and points a finger I snap at. She flinches away and growls, ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it. Lumina is beyond your control, but if any harm comes to a single hair on her head, you¡¯ll never be free. I¡¯ve made sure of it!¡± she blasts at me in that carnal language.

    Truths at last.

    How are you so sure?

    Lumina shuffles forward, still cross with her sister more than anything. I can¡¯t make out their language; it¡¯s terribly difficult to understand from the little glimpses I got from Henry and the rest of the team. Worse yet is that even with my telepathy at the level it is, Valery has taken several precautions at guarding her mind, and Lumina is no different.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Weaker.

    Yes, there¡¯s that. Since I woke and saw the two sisters I¡¯ve launched my mind at them. Lumina has been through some troubles recently¡­ at least, in the past five years. There¡¯s a specter behind these troubles¡ªtrauma. And now this, me. Finding out her sister¡¯s kept a Demon locked up and hung above a pit of hungry monsters under their home basement infuriates her.

    Under the basement? She must really want to hide me.

    There¡¯s a lot more to it that my telepathy has gleaned. If I push their minds any further their wards will notice and they¡¯ll lock up all their thoughts and I¡¯ll be left in the dark. Still, without telepathy I can¡¯t communicate with them, certainly not in their garbled language and not in Valery¡¯s carnal tongue¡ªa language I seem to only understand because she¡¯s the one who summoned and bound me from Reais.

    But there¡¯s no need to play by their games. if I do nothing now, chances are Lumina is going to lose this argument and Valery will keep me chained and forgotten down here. I reach out to my blade: it has to be somewhere close by.

    No. Battles. War.

    The disembodied voice occupying my head speaks again. An issue I¡¯ve been too preoccupied to address¡ªbetter to fight the enemies outside before dealing with those within.

    But the voice is right. Lumina¡¯s trauma, Valery¡¯s rescue, and the Sainid Empire. Of course there will be war even after so many years, these are Elves after all. By the disgusted look Valery keeps throwing at me, I can tell she¡¯s still sour about Henry and the lot¡ªshe doesn¡¯t want to use me now, especially after saving Lumina all on her lonesome.

    Maybe I should have agreed earlier. Then I wouldn¡¯t have lost so much time.

    No, the last person I bowed to hasn¡¯t lived up to their end of the deal, and I trust Valery even less to do so now. Besides, why would anyone summon a Demon only to release it?

    I can¡¯t trust her and she can¡¯t trust me.

    A fine and understandable impasse.

    Valery pauses, a frown sitting on her lips. She raises a hand to silence Lumina, who still hasn¡¯t noticed my good work.

    I laugh in her face as she glares. Speaking in English, I tell her, ¡°You should have kept it farther away or maybe¡­ in the circle with the Demon you bound.¡±

    Her eyes widen, but it¡¯s too late. I rip the chains binding my arms out of the walls and fall into the pit. Valery hurries to the edge and stares down to find blood spilled and the second circle broken in several places.

    I¡¯m free.

    The Seeker Blade twirls around, slicing off the manacles as it drips with the blood of the monsters Valery set for me. Many of them I vaguely recognize. Giant dire wolves, wingless griffins, and even a pack of hobgoblins. Compared to the speed and edge of the Seeker Blade, these monsters may as well be pets.

    A shard of ice glances my shoulder before I can get out of the way. A flurry follows as Valery roars in indignation. Mana rises from her and I¡¯m sure she¡¯s about to activate whatever failsafe she¡¯s got in store, but the Seeker¡¯s already out. It zips through her footing at the edge¡ªI¡¯ll have to settle with that, since I still can¡¯t kill her directly.

    She crashes into the rubble, landing smack in the middle of torn griffins. Essence bulges in my calves and I leap out of the slightly larger hole. Lumina gasps but quickly surges with mana as well, and I can¡¯t stop her from casting something that makes my body weigh several tons. Seeker zips after her fleeing form and I have it cut at her ankles and tendons, enough so she takes a spill.

    The little Essence Valery has been generous with bolsters the three long strides it takes to get to Lumina, where lightning blasting out of her fingertips carries me through the solid roof.

    I land half in what used to be a well-organized and beautiful dining room kitchen. Valery roars and more shards snap at me.

    Run.

    I don¡¯t need the voice to tell me before I¡¯m on my heels. Without regard for furniture or even walls, I burst out of the building I¡¯ve been trapped under for decades and spill into a garden. Voices at the upper levels yell down at me from windows, many yelling out for Valery and Lumina.

    I could stay and fight. Hold my ground and send the Seeker Blade to slaughter more of her friends. But rushing through the thick, perfumed, multi-colored shrubs of the garden, I run across graves. It¡¯s unmistakable.

    I pause at one, a spot I remember clearly as though it were yesterday I stared at it. A headstone sits where Henry bled out pitifully. I¡¯d robbed him of his last moments in a last-ditch effort at deceiving Valery¡ªit hadn¡¯t worked. Just like fighting her won¡¯t work.

    Whatever magic she¡¯s used to summon and keep me from Reais, in this place the stat sheet calls Ire¡ªI don¡¯t know the first thing about it.

    I do.

    Wind scythes cut at me as an unfamiliar man gapes at my height, shaken but determined to keep me from escaping. I snarl down at him, and he shrieks and fires off more scythes before Seeker severs his spine. His blood pools at my feet, wholly different for the ichor of Demons. The watery quality, the thick smell of iron and the way I look in its reflection¡­ there¡¯s something different about mortals.

    I don¡¯t wait to find out. Valery is out of that pit by now and hot on my heels. I doubt I can escape her completely, but I need time, time to learn, time to find out what cards I¡¯ve got in my deck.

    What do you know about this magic? Who are you and where are you speaking from? Are you part of them?

    My questions are met with silence. In the first place, I don¡¯t know who I¡¯m targeting my thoughts at, but I bet they¡¯re listening closely to mine¡ªwatching my every move and impression from wherever they are. They¡¯ve been rather interested since Valery summoned me.

    Surveillance like that should be unsettling. It always has been¡ªin fact, my first goal in Reais was to guard my thoughts from prying minds, to shield my intents from opponents. And yet I¡¯m not agitated by this presence, not in the slightest. It¡¯s the opposite, I welcome them¡­ unconsciously grateful for their input even though it¡¯s vague.

    And now I need it.

    Alright. One at a time. What do you know about this magic?

    The ground quakes and breaks as I skip across it. Mana surges from someone behind me. Valery? No¡­ Lumina.

    Her magic cracks the earth in two, creating a chasm. One I can scale across without concern, but I sense keeping me from running isn¡¯t the goal here.

    ¡°Wait!¡± she calls out to me. The wards on her mind vanished so I can penetrate and translate her garbled words¡ªshe¡¯s letting me in.

    My feet teeter on the edge as I turn to face her. Lumina, the golden-haired and golden-eyed Elf, has her arm stretched out to her sister, waving her back from me.

    Make the pact favor you.

    More vague instructions. I snarl as Lumina steps toward me. She stops and mouths something and reality cracks at her fingertips. The scent of Reais spills out, but only for a moment as the crack snaps shut, leaving a scroll in her hands. She turns it toward me.

    ¡°Valery will chase you¡­ hunt you down even. Maybe not now, but¡­ she isn¡¯t comfortable with letting you run amok. You¡¯re her responsibility.¡±

    With her mind ajar, I read between the lines¡ªValery won¡¯t let me go because I killed her friends and cost her time and a shard of her own soul.

    I smile and Lumina shudders. ¡°The only way she¡¯ll let you go now is if you help us. The Empire isn¡¯t done.¡±

    Again, I read between the lines. She¡¯s the only person familiar with the summoning and soul-binding techniques she used on me¡ªValery¡¯s the key back home. The Sainid Empire is searching for...

    ¡°So, you are Queen then?¡± I say, speaking a rather broken version of her language.

    ¡°Heavy is the crown.¡±

    ¡°And this is a¡­¡± I search for the word, ¡°pact then. I help you, you give me magic, power, and send me back home?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not part of the deal!¡± Valery yells, daring to step forward, but my Seeker Blade makes a show of circling Lumina.

    Lumina shrugs. ¡°We¡¯re at war with Sainid, and they have many powerful Mages and artifacts. A share of the spoils will be yours, but you¡¯ll be signing the pact with me, not Valery.¡±

    ¡°That means you have to protect her!¡± Valery yells again.

    There aren¡¯t any lies here, even the voice hasn¡¯t protested. But it did say to make the pact favor me.

    ¡°One more condition then,¡± I say, slowly becoming fluent in the language though it makes my tongue uncomfortable.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I protect you, I help win your war¡­ then, you help me win my war.¡±

    Lumina¡¯s mind races, a frown finding her lips. ¡°What war? Against Demons?¡±

    ¡°Not primarily.¡±

    ¡°Then who?¡±

    ¡°Everyone in my way.¡±

 Step 12- Ire

    Name: Nil

    Race: Demon

    Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

    Age: Immortal ¨C 34years, 11months

    Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.8¡ª 367.2esq

    [Available Essence Points¡ª 0]

    Strength: 31

    Agility: 56

    Wisdom: 26

    Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry], [Faithless Essence Amplification]

    [Available Trait Points¡ª 0]

    Traits: [Armored Form]- Lvl.2, [Greater Cognizance]- Lvl.4, [Psychic Resistance]- Lvl.5, [Quick Mold]- Lvl.5

    Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

    Spells: [Invisibility]- Lvl.1, [Minor Illusion]- Lvl.2

    Patron: Lumina au Hescaria

    <hr>

    The nation below the hill is a vast expanse of grassy plains and forests. The sky above it is bright blue, with only wisps of clouds dotting its surface. In this country, there are no signs of human habitation. Elves carved out this forested land as their own, and they now protect it from all intruders. Lumina, in her regal way, mentioned her ancestors originated here, and Hescaria, before its annexation had its heart here.

    Technically we¡¯re smack in the middle of Sainid territory, but even the Empire¡¯s goons and citizens know that the war for control still rages. Valery¡¯s made sure of that with her rebellion, and in the last years she¡¯s fanned the flames with the kidnapping of her sister, the Hescaria Queen.

    In truth, Lumina¡¯s been nothing more than a diplomatic hostage, given the position of Ambassador to appease and calm the populous Elven community. By snatching away their hostage, Valery¡¯s made sure her people can fight with greater vigor and even inspired several other enslaved races to start their mini-rebellions in tandem with hers.

    But Humans are cunning and vicious beasts. The Sainid¡¯s Empire¡¯s core race is obsessed with magic, control, and adaptability. Although they have significantly shorter natural life spans, the Humans of the Empire have set a leash on several races, even bulky, ugly ones like Orcs.

    Valery sat on me, guarded by legions of Elven Warriors and Mages, and directed the rebellions efforts in a lax manner ever since stealing her sister away. From their arguments and the gossip I¡¯ve picked up, it seems Valery was content leaving the fight for freedom to her lieutenant, some Elf Priest. Lumina thinks differently.

    Piecing their conversations together, I know Lumina¡¯s prime reason for being upset was because she believed she could change the Empire from within. Something about a fourth prince. But Valery snatched that away and the Prince is married. Valery loathes the idea of Lumina and this Prince, but Lumina figures that because there hasn¡¯t been any news on a child after four years, the marriage may be annulled.

    But Lumina¡¯s passive methods took a turn when she discovered me underneath the basement, bound and deep in slumber. She figures with my power the pseudo-war against the Empire need not be a sludge of people dying day after day. That she could take a strong stance against her oppressors without the vague wonder of whether or not they¡¯ll lose.

    This, of course, sparked another argument between the sisters. This time they talk of purity and their Goddess¡¯ wrath. For the most part the snippets I steal from their hushed conversations and warded minds tells me neither of the sisters care about the approval of the Deities.

    It¡¯s the first thing I share in common with the two.

    For all the back and forth between the Hescaria girls, I haven¡¯t had the chance to stop and appreciate the new world. Even now there¡¯s weeping behind me, I try not to scowl, seeing as I¡¯m the reason for it. The poor gardener boy stepped up to the wrong opponent at the wrong time.

    Valery insists on my presence. Even though there are several other unguaranteed mortals present as well, she wants to punish me with the sight of another lowered body. I don¡¯t think she understands Demons as much as she thinks. But from the magical auras each of the party members exudes, I figure I¡¯ll have a harder time severing their spines than I did the gardener boy.

    It¡¯s more likely she wants an excuse to end me, to stop her sister from making a grave mistake and save her soul from the condemnation still to come. It¡¯s bait: the moment I tear off a bite she¡¯ll have all the justification to rectify the mistake she made all those years ago by plummeting back to Reais right by my side.

    I¡¯ve sensed it, the thread of magic tying my [Soul Crystal] to her soul, the piece she offered to summon me anyway. She can only untie us if she makes a pact with me¡ªif she offers me something of more value than her soul in place of it anyway. But Lumina¡¯s taken that chance, something Valery¡¯s clearly opposed to.

    It¡¯s the only way I could go through with it though. Valery can¡¯t keep the deal, so she can¡¯t offer it. She has no army to pledge to my war, but Lumina does. And Lumina¡¯s desperate enough to ally with a Demon in a vague war then let a shard of Valery¡¯s soul come back with me to Reais, because I¡¯ll never let go of it, not without a fulfilled pact.

    Lumina eyes me warily as she leads prayers to the Goddess Vuius, a name that¡¯s been spoken even in Reais. Calridian wasn¡¯t lying when he said he¡¯d given me one of the God¡¯s names. He may have given more had Valery not interfered.

    Still, this is good¡ªbetter, in fact, as mortals are the fools who worship deities the most. If I¡¯m out to bring the deities to my feet, then it¡¯s a good idea to mingle with mortals, at least for now.

    Lumina and Valery have become a fixture in me now though. I¡¯ve accepted their conditions and they¡¯ve accepted mine. I¡¯ve noted that if it¡¯s a war we¡¯re headed toward, then Essence is of prime importance to the effort. Valery scoffed and tossed me a gleaming Pink Crystal¡ª she thinks it¡¯d be enough, but she doesn¡¯t understand Demons as much as she thinks she does.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    A good thing, frankly. I¡¯m not eager to educate her on the ways of Reais any more than she is to hand me the better Crystals from that pouch of hers. A poor, withered cloth pouch meant to handle nothing more than a few coins from my understanding, but magic in its mysteries has made it a boundless trove of many treasures¡ªincluding the occasional Crystal.

    Since Valery is loath to even give me Crystals, Lumina has taken to teaching me magic, something everyone in the party is uncomfortable with. But it¡¯s part of the pact that has secured her name as Patron on the stat sheet, so lessons in offensive and defensive magic must carry on in the place of serving me artifacts¡ªan idea the party hates even more.

    For starters, I¡¯ve asked that she teach me the quake spell, the one she used to split the ground. Lumina¡¯s said it¡¯s not much of an offensive spell, but I¡¯ve got ideas. It¡¯s difficult running mana through external solids, like poking a needle at the earth itself and expecting it to thread clean. The worst part is, according to her instructions I¡¯m not just threading mana through it, I¡¯m supposed to manipulate the mana already in it so when I pull on a single string the entire thing comes apart and a chasm is birthed.

    Unlike my other [Spells], this one relies on my ability to manipulate external mana¡ªthis world is full of external mana, nothing like the stuffy, private style of Reais. It¡¯s so much that [Spells] like [Invisibility] and [Minor Illusion] are bolstered. In the little time I¡¯ve snatched away from the eyes glued on me, I¡¯ve measured the new strength of my [Spells].

    [Invisibility] extend outward now, to anything I wish in fact. That means allies or traps can be concealed along with myself, or even on their own. It¡¯s an impressive boost that has me wishing Calridian gave me more scrolls.

    [Minor Illusion] I¡¯ve already experimented with in action. The ability to warp specific perceptions and reflexes within a dome is nothing to scoff at. Though I figure this will only work on a select few mortals and even fewer Demons should I come across any, still, it works as a brilliant trap for any enemies in this¡­ mortal war.

    To think I escaped the beginning of one war on Reais to head the start of a new one here.

    Inevitable.

    You again. You¡¯ve been gone awhile. Do you have you any idea how to get out of this yet?

    Fulfil the pact. End war. Then¡­

    Then?

    Silence. She does that a lot. She.

    Since Valery started handing me Crystals about two months ago, the disembodied voice that¡¯s haunted me has gotten clearer until I could discern a gender. She disappeared when I referenced her as, well, a she.

    I still haven¡¯t figured out what that¡¯s all about, even less who she is and what she wants with me. Or even how long she¡¯s been in my head. She seems to know everything, every passing thought I¡¯ve had here or on Reais. It¡¯s frustrating to be left in the dark. I don¡¯t know anything about her, and yet¡­

    ¡°Demon,¡± Valery calls behind me. I match her sneer and look down at her. ¡°It¡¯s about time you start pulling your weight around here.¡±

    The funeral¡¯s dispersed, blessings are laid, and Lumina stands at the fresh hammered headstone of the gardener boy staring at the two of us. She¡¯s asked me to refrain from upsetting her sister, but I wonder if she¡¯s asked her sister the same of me.

    ¡°What do you want now, wench?¡± A fine word, courtesy of the many minds unguarded by wards. Most of these Elves are aged around a hundred years or more, technically older than I am, but if what Lumina¡¯s said about time across planes is true, then chances are I¡¯m actually thousands of years older.

    ¡°We¡¯ve made the necessary preparations. Burying Harold was the last of it, we¡¯re ready for war now,¡± Lumina says before her sister can mouth a curse at me. She¡¯s confident, there¡¯s a hunger in her eyes. Not for war or bloodshed, but for peace. I don¡¯t like her eyes.

    A grin spreads along my lips. ¡°You know what that means, wench.¡± I set an open palm out, gleeful as Valery mutters under her breath but drops a dozen Pinks into it.

    It¡¯s not the feast I had at Morthul¡¯s wannabe Divide, but it¡¯s something. Activating [Essence Amplification], I consolidate the Essence in the Pinks into a rather weak, single Crimson. Then, without pause, I absorb every last bit of Essence, finding myself rejuvenated. Another thing about this world¡ªmy senses tell me nothing but my [Soul Crystal] gets a share of the Essence.

    Unlike back at Reais, where power is ultimately fed back into the Divide, then the layer, then Reais as a whole. It¡¯s an endless loop where Demons spawn, souls convert and grow, and at the end of the day, Reais throbs with the heavy tax on Essence.

    Here there is no such tax. So even a dozen Pink Crystals can be worth something.

    Not for long.

    I don¡¯t bother asking what she means as I sense her fade away. At that, my eyes widen and my grin grows, much to Valery¡¯s dismay. I can sense her presence now¡­ she¡¯s close, very close. I¡¯d shut my eyes to search, but Valery¡¯s scowl is as irritating as Lumina¡¯s expectant stare.

    ¡°Ugh, what do you want me to do?¡±

    ¡°For starters? Put on some clothes.¡±

    She hands me a bundle and I sneer down at it. ¡°You¡¯d have a Demon in a dress? What is this plan of yours?¡±

    ¡°Are you uncomfortable with it? I mean, you look like a woman, right?¡± Valery turns to Lumina for support but receives a stiff, undecided shrug¡ªher mind wanders elsewhere.

    Valery shrugs as well, staring me up and down with a sigh. ¡°I guess you also look like a man in a sort of feminine way. Or a woman in a masculine way¡­ I¡¯m not sure which, but it¡¯s one or the other. Either way, it¡¯s the dress or nothing.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have breasts,¡± I note for their sake.

    ¡°We have padding for that.¡± She winks at me and I know this is set in stone. I pull on the dress and find the fabric cool against my skin. The sleeves are long enough to hide the tone in my muscles and it presents my hands in a slender, slick manner I find pleasing to look at. The neckline isn¡¯t too low either, so the artificial paddings Valery¡¯s stuffed in it for the sake of disguise don¡¯t hang like pictures on a wall. Although it¡¯s an easy thing to create my own breasts via [Faithless Mimicry], I don¡¯t bother. There¡¯s little need to put in extra effort for their sake.

    ¡°How do I look?¡±

    ¡°Not naked. I almost can¡¯t recognize you, Demon,¡± Valery says.

    There have only been few times where I haven¡¯t stood nude in the wind, and even then the desert cloak did little to preserve some fashion of modesty. But nudity isn¡¯t a problem in Reais¡ªthere¡¯s always a purpose for clothing or armor. I used to long for some covering, but out in the desert there¡¯d always be something to shred it away, so I¡¯ve gotten used to standing bare.

    Still, a part of me is grateful for the more or less mortal manners of preserving modesty.

    ¡°She¡¯s too tall,¡± Lumina says, stepping away from the gardener¡¯s grave at last. ¡°We¡¯re trying to walk in without tipping everyone off. She stands out too much.¡±

    She...

    I¡¯ve been incensed at being referred to as an ¡°it,¡± but she sounds off as well. Not as off as an it, but enough that I¡¯ve got an urge to correct Lumina¡¯s assumption.

    She¡¯s not right but she¡¯s not wrong either.

    And you¡¯d know this how?

    I¡¯m here.

    Whatever that means, the voice sinks away without explanation, and I turn back to Lumina circling me with a consternated look.

    ¡°Illusions would be detected a mile away. The dress barely fits her as is,¡± she huffs. ¡°Can¡¯t you look less intimidating?¡±

    She doesn¡¯t expect an answer and is ready to give up when I say, ¡°Yes, I can.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­ how?¡±

    I set a hand out to Valery and her resentment burns. ¡°No. No more, I¡¯ve given you enough for a month. And we¡¯re going to hit the palace, who knows what sort of tools you¡¯ll snag when we¡¯re not looking. No.¡±

    Alas, Lumina is Queen. Once I absorb the set of three Pink Crystals, much of the strain of my deep slumber falls away and I estimate I¡¯ll need another three dozen Pinks or ten strong Crimsons before I break through to Blood Orange.

    A goal you should work toward.

    I want to snap at the voice, but I¡¯d rather put my Crystals where my mouth is. With the recovered Essence, I morph my bones and muscle, losing height and weight and even shaping my face to match Lumina¡¯s rounded cheeks and high bones.

    It¡¯s a scale of mimicry I haven¡¯t attempted in a long time. The strain is almost too much and the pain isn¡¯t easy to dull. When I¡¯m done, I breathe a ragged breath and toss my hair back to glare at Valery. ¡°Three wasn¡¯t enough. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll be any use on your mission now.¡±

    Standing at the same height now, she steps up to flick my head with her finger. She smiles like she¡¯s been meaning to do that. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re going to be plenty useful.¡±

 Step 12- Ire (P2)

    A wide, devious smirk spreads across my face as the carriage bumps away on cobbled street. Lumina wasn¡¯t satisfied with just mimicry. Makeup and powder had to come into play as well, as well as some leaves that stained my lips pucker red. It¡¯s odd. Not just the femininity I never realized, but also the unwillingness of my reflection to stop smirking.

    Found an outlet, have you? I ask my reflection on Seeker¡¯s side.

    More Crystals means more me, if you haven¡¯t noticed.

    I have. In the silence of preparation that followed, I sought out the source of the voice and found it in me. Specifically in my [Soul Crystal], or as she calls it, ours.

    I¡¯m not sure how comfortable I am with that. Even knowing where the voice is coming from, I can¡¯t do a thing about it. I can¡¯t try to get rid of her because the only way to do that is to get rid of me. But I¡¯m not eager to find out what happens when I recover my full strength, or even what happens when I cross to Blood Orange.

    What do you want with me?

    Haven¡¯t you been alone long enough? Reais was a tough nut, wasn¡¯t it?

    I can¡¯t say it wasn¡¯t¡ªshe knows when I lie, there¡¯s little I can hide from her. I doubt there¡¯s any decision I can make without her knowing.

    Do you have a name at least?

    My reflection looks away, staring out her window, looking as beautiful as Lumina made us¡ªher. How about you? Do you have a name?

    I glance at Lumina, who¡¯s been stealing glances at me all the while. She¡¯s engrossed in thoughts of her own mission, her intent and what will come next should everything work out successfully on Valery¡¯s end. But she¡¯s cautious of me and my muttering as well.

    I¡¯ve kept my name away from their lips since the voice asked me to, all except for Lumina. To form a pact she has to know my true name, or a name that carries enough significance that I can answer to it. She isn¡¯t bound to keep it a secret, but the voice did advise I cover it up as quickly as possible. But they seem to be doing the good work all by themselves. They call me Demon or by the fake name they¡¯ve spun for tonight¡¯s event, Fieria.

    Names don¡¯t matter, I tell my reflection, and the smirk returns in full force.

    Don¡¯t they, Nil?

    The carriage halts, jerking me forward. When I look back to the Seeker, my reflection no longer has a mind of its own and I find a grimace on my face. She¡­ the voice worries me.

    Lumina¡¯s door pops open, but before stepping out with the help of a fine gentleman she catches my eyes, delivering a stern reminder of my instructions here. I nod. It¡¯s doubtful I¡¯ll need to do much else.

    Following behind her, I accept a hand from my own gentleman, a Human man with a concerned look. The building we¡¯ve ridden up on is magnificent. A palace of the Elves with all the golden, intricate cravings that glitter against the night sky. His worry is understandable¡ªthis is the capital of Hescaria, the old, the annexed. This palace no longer belongs to Elves, and tonight the fourth Prince of the Empire celebrates his fifth marriage anniversary.

    I thank the gentleman butler and he takes Seeker away in a tray, something Lumina forewarned about. Other carriages gallop behind us and more of our people step out. I haven¡¯t paid much attention to the plan aside from my part in it, but I figure the lot of them are meant to be Lumina¡¯s regal entourage. They too hand their weapons away and step behind Lumina and I.

    ¡°Here they come,¡± Lumina whispers to me, eyes trained at the top of the stairs where a clamor of noble folk gather to gasp and whisper. As we ascend the steps and enter the palace¡¯s main ballroom, the gasps turn to whispers and the crowd parts for a man.

    He¡¯s tall, broad, and fit, with stunning gray hair. His presence silences the crowds while his eyes swallow up Lumina¡¯s graceful steps as she saunters toward him like she isn¡¯t one of the Empire¡¯s most wanted individuals.

    ¡°Lumina¡­¡± he manages, almost missing a syllable as his mind races. Like Valery and most of the people here, his mind is sealed behind wards. Taking a peek would hurt me more than it¡¯d hurt him.

    ¡°Prince Deran, it¡¯s good to see you healthy¡­¡± her eyes fall behind him where a woman in a wonderful white dress creeps, ¡°¡­ and happy.¡±

    His eyes parse me and the men and women dressed for the event behind me. ¡°You¡­ where have you been? You¡­¡± he steals a glance at the woman beside him and grits his teeth. ¡°Things could have been different.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t leave on my own accord, you know that. You were there.¡±

    His eyes snap around the crowd and he steps forward.¡°Let¡¯s not talk here, alright?¡± He makes to take her hand, but she waves, pardoning his mistake.

    ¡°I¡¯m not here to crash your party, Deran. Let the festivities continue, I am a gracious host, after all.¡±

    ¡°Host?¡± He¡¯s bewildered. Lumina walks beyond him and I follow closely, doing my best not to trip on the footwear I¡¯ve been punished with. She saunters past everyone, leading the party past the main hall to a large door. The Prince¡¯s calming effect on the crowd wanes as mutters and whispers carry through, worse yet as his wife is left behind in all of this. ¡°Lumina! What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±

    She doesn¡¯t answer for a moment. Her hand presses against the door as she shivers with anticipation.

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    ¡°This door has been shut since my mother stepped off the throne to submit to your father, Deran. You might have just been a boy then, but I remember having to stand in front of you and your siblings as he gave Setrix the order.¡±

    ¡°Lumina, that wasn¡¯t what either of us wanted,¡± he pleas, a cautious distance away from her. In the chaos I see we¡¯ve lost our entourage and I manage a smile. ¡°What we want¡­ we can have it without bloodshed. We can have it without killing every one of our race. I want you, Lumina.¡±

    A round of gasps at this confession. Lumina sheds a tear and turns to face the pleading Prince. Heavy boots echo through the hall and magic signatures thrum. Before long he¡¯s flanked by over a dozen Mages and Warriors, weapons drawn and ready.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am, step away from the door!¡± their captain commands, boasting armor and heavy steel thrumming with magic.

    I call for Seeker. Lumina shakes her head. ¡°Deran, my mother died that day¡­ in your palace, in your home. I¡¯ve inherited her kingdom¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, Lumina, we can forge¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªand I can see now that there¡¯s never going to be a place for Elves in Sainid, not beyond slaves, servants. Not beyond whores.¡± She seethes at the last word. ¡°I was taken, and all the plans, all the thoughts of equality, of a better life for the Elves and even other species, was taken away from your thoughts, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Ma¡¯am, this is your final warning! Step away from the door!¡±

    ¡°Lumina, without you it got complicated, almost impossible!¡± he sputters. Lost in a jumble of his own thoughts, he steps forward, but Lumina takes a step back, leaning against the door.

    She nods. ¡°Then that¡¯s why I have to do this. For my people. For Hescaria. I declare independence from Sainid and proclaim myself its Queen! Leave my palace, the lot of you! Return to your Kings and your Emperor, tell him Hescaria is done!¡±

    Before she can even get the last word out, a flash, bolt, and streak of elemental magic rushes through the hall, spearheaded by the captain¡¯s roar as he charges down the hall to ensure her mutiny is put down.

    Their magic slams against an invisible wall, the surge of the two clashing raises hairs on my neck and arms. I grin at the spectacle of destructive light. The hall¡¯s walls strain, but with Lumina¡¯s hands on the door something clicks. Magic circles swirl and chains tipped with spearheads snap at the spectators, taking lives as quickly as the Seeker Blade blitzing through the unsuspecting Mages and Warriors, sliding through the chinks in their armor I noted while they postured. I let Deran live with a little cut at his cheek because Lumina¡¯s been explicit about not hurting him.

    The large golden door leading to the throne room creaks open and Lumina slips away behind it, ignoring the call of the handsome, desperate Prince. With her gone, the chains from the magic circles cease and I¡¯m the last bastion beyond the impenetrable door behind me.

    Wind from the groaning Mages whips my hair as I let go of my mimicry and uncoil to my true height and weight. The captain and what¡¯s left of his men marvel at my growth. Some are wiser though and chant for magic. I don¡¯t let them.

    ¡°Alhak za.¡±

    The dome juts out, turned into a rectangle by the shape of the hall. The captain stirs and grips the handle of his cleaver greatsword.

    ¡°Alhak za.¡± I take a step forward and catch the Seeker Blade as it severs yet another unprotected Mage and pings off the armor of the captain. I frown, but my smile returns as I think of the challenge in breaking him.

    ¡°Alhak-¡± a bolt of fire and a shard of ice snap at me, but they¡¯re nothing like Valery¡¯s and break against me instead. ¡°-za.¡±

    Mana drizzles, and despite my command not everyone seems taken with my magic. The captain¡¯s charge is uninterrupted, and he grunts at the weight of his weapon as he swings for my head. The Seeker Blade parries the attack and suddenly his speed increases. Twisting on his heel he takes another swing, and another and another until I growl and snap forward, Essence coating my nails as I lunge out for his heart.

    I catch him off guard¡ªwith his constant attacks he¡¯s left himself open. But my fingers can¡¯t break through his armor. A horror I¡¯ve only seen in Reais. I slash away at his exposed face instead, and have the Seeker Blade cut toward his wrists.

    His sword glows with a swing, and rather than the blade shredding the bones in his wrists, it¡¯s knocked back by a blast of some unseen force.

    Spaced out from each other, he stares up at me in the dress. A frown forms at how much leg I have exposed beneath the wonderful material, whereas the Seeker Blade spins into my hard grip. With the sword and armor, he¡¯s at least a strong Crimson tier if I were to put him in our ranks. I can¡¯t underestimate him too much. I¡¯ll have to disarm him if I want to take his head.

    He turns back and finds his forces silent, the Prince begging for someone to do something, to get Lumina, but they¡¯re all unresponsive. I have yet to set their illusion, so for now all they see is what they last saw before my spell.

    ¡°You are an efficient one, Knight of the Elven Queen,¡± the captain breathes, tightening his grip and preparing for a strike. Whatever got him so quick on his feet earlier, I know he can¡¯t keep it up.

    His mind isn¡¯t as guarded as others. I tilt my head and smile. ¡°You respect her. I figure that¡¯s odd for Humans.¡±

    He shrugs. ¡°We¡¯re a flawed people, but the Prince and I, and you as well, we¡¯re the exception, yes?¡±

    I laugh. ¡°You think me a Human? I¡¯ll have no trouble blending in and ruling what¡¯s left of your race if you can¡¯t tell me apart.¡±

    At this he frowns and narrows his gaze at me. ¡°Half-Elf?¡±

    ¡°Captain! Lumina is behind those doors and her men are slaughtering and capturing my guests! I don¡¯t even know where my wife is! Take that giant of a woman down and break the door now!¡±

    ¡°Guess you have to kill me now,¡± I tell him with a sympathetic smile. He doesn¡¯t like working for the Prince.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll make it quick, if I can.¡± He hefts his sword, testing its weight once more.

    ¡°As will I.¡± An injection of Essence to the Seeker Blade¡¯s Crystal empowers it as it twirls in my hand.

    The captain bursts forth, dancing across the hall in a zigzag manner to confuse me, but I wait at the end of the hall for him, unmoved. He takes the bait because he has to and lurches forward for a quick stab. His arms become a flurry of motion I parry effortlessly, until his weapon glows and thrums with mana again.

    With my back so close to the door, I¡¯ll be slammed against it, knocked off-balance if he gets the chance to activate his sword¡¯s magical ability. But I¡¯ve already won¡ªmy Seeker Blade slices through his wrists and the weapon clatters on the floor as his blood spurts out of his new stumps, a scream barely restrained as he turns to ask how but can¡¯t for the shock of losing his hands so suddenly.

    Snatching his neck in my hand, I begin to squeeze. ¡°You¡¯re not entirely immune to my magic. Call it close-up illusions.¡± I let him free of the slight illusion I put him under and reveal the Seeker Blade in my hand is just an extension of my fingernails, whereas the real thing is coated in his blood.

    I snap his neck quickly and let him drop. To his credit he made his weapon terrifying, even against a Demon¡¯s fingernails. I almost lost a finger to him, almost.

    Stepping over his body, I approach the static Prince. There¡¯s little fear in him, like he knows I would¡¯ve killed him already had Lumina not cared so much.

    ¡°You should know, I¡¯ve called my personal battalion. They should be arriving any moment now,¡± he says.

    I snort and study the captured Mages and Warriors I¡¯ve trapped in my illusion.

    How about some Essence?

    She¡¯s back. Valery isn¡¯t here.

    We can make our own¡­ with enough blood.

    And how would that be possible?

    I¡¯m older than you, She says like that explains everything.

    I can get out of this on my own, but if you want Essence that bad, you¡¯re going to have to spill some truths of your own. Your name¡­ who are you?

    I will give you the name you¡¯ve always known me by then.

    Deal.

 Step 12- Ire (P3)

    Only six of the initial two dozen Warrior-Mage squad remain. Quite a few of them met their ends at the Seeker Blade¡¯s tip and others fell prey to Lumina¡¯s surprise attack with the walls. A palace that defends its master¡­ I¡¯m rather envious.

    But soon it¡¯ll all be mine. This war won¡¯t drag on long, not if I can help it, not if I continue to grow in strength. The voice is confident in her ability to make Essence from blood; if she¡¯s right, then added with this world¡¯s free taxation, I¡¯ll be skyrocketing to Blood Orange by the end of this battle.

    I left the Prince back in the hallway and made myself the captain of the remaining six Warrior-Mages with [Minor Illusion]. We charge out to the chaos outside where many of the martial guests have raised weapons and [Spells] against our occupation, some already swearing vengeance for their fallen loved ones. In the end it¡¯s all noise.

    My future serfs startle at the sight of me: torn dress, bad makeup, and a pair of three would-be enemies trailing behind me. But they know better than to change the face of battle, especially seeing as I¡¯m not attacking them and neither are my thralls.

    The Elves trade blasts of magic and close up one-on-one battles when they can with Lumina¡¯s aid from the throne room. Chains snatch and wrap up troublesome opponents threading too far up the stairs, spikes snap out at those trying to get ahead with flight, and raised walls trap enemies in two or even four in one instance.

    I wasn¡¯t listening when any of this was discussed but I see Lumina¡¯s mind was behind this plan. The palace is in fact a fortress, and as the Elves of Hescaria and the Empire never went to war, the Sainid fighters are sorely unprepared for combat, especially with most of their weapons confiscated.

    It¡¯s already a blood bath leaning in our favor, but I walk out there and capture as many weak-minded Sainid fighters as possible with my moving dome. The Elves start to get confused, but they stay true to their mission and snatch everyone that fails to get in line behind me, worsening the survival rates of the Sainid.

    When I arrive at the last step of the stairs, I sense Lumina¡¯s eyes burning through me even though I¡¯m nowhere near the throne room. If she could wield telepathy I¡¯m sure she¡¯d be barking anxious orders at me. But she¡¯s not. There¡¯s no one to stop me from reciting the Key the voice has given me.

    You sure I have enough mana? On this world, despite my extensive use of magic, I¡¯ve yet to reach a point where I can¡¯t compensate with the speedy regeneration.

    A man yells out something as he surges with mana. I send the Seeker Blade out to stuff his throat.

    This is more Essence-reliant than mana, at least this variant is. You wouldn¡¯t be able to field the cost of the mana-reliant variant.

    It¡¯s possibly the longest sentence she¡¯s spoken. A wall snaps up around me and my set of thirty thralls¡ªthey all think I¡¯m some leader of theirs¡ªas Lumina shields me from a woman with obsidian gauntlets. Her pounding dents the metal sheet protecting me and I know she¡¯ll break through soon, so I flood Essence through my arm and lash out through the weakened dents to grab her fists and pull her through. She yelps, beside herself in the agony of having her muscles and skin scraped off by the sheet metal.

    Speaking another language I¡¯ve yet to master, she calls for an ally and I groan, annoyed with the fodder. Snapping and ripping her arm off, I dance around the wall and smack her ally in the face with it. He¡¯s quick and responds with a cast of something that has my vision spin. The now one-armed woman lashes out at my chin with her gauntlet, earning the Sainid¡¯s first spilt Demon blood.

    Enough of this dance. Kill them already and begin the ritual.

    I agree with that. I¡¯ve played around enough. ¡°Wekt. Wekt. Wekt.¡± I suffer blows as I chant the all-too familiar spell and vanish from their eyes. With the Seeker Blade in my hand, I lurch at the man making the world spin and slash his jaw off.

    ¡°Aaggruuhh!¡± His strangled scream only worsens as I take his knees and break the woman¡¯s legs with my bare hands.

    There¡¯s still more guests to feed on, and although the voice says the number of mind-numbed thralls I have will be enough for the spell, I launch my attack on their fleeing forms anyway.

    The weak resistant formation they had in place scatters as I plunge. Invisible and with the Seeker Blade, I¡¯m a deadly ghost snatching their mobility as I cut through the crowds of would-be dignitaries, slashing their knees, breaking their backs and severing spines.

    The fighting behind me dies as the last of the Sainid watch the invisible massacre of their fellows and surrender to Lumina¡¯s men.

    When I¡¯m done, I¡¯m the only being standing in a mass of moaning, groaning, and unconscious bleeding bodies. The Elves watch from the stairs, their eyes filled with worry for their enemies.

    They think me cruel, I snort.

    I command my thralls forward, resolved to get this done before the mass of mana signatures coming in from the west¡ªthe group I¡¯m assuming is the Prince¡¯s personal battalion¡ªfalls upon me and what¡¯s left of the Elves. If he¡¯s that confident in them and the captain of the guard ranked a strong Crimson tier with all that equipment, I shouldn¡¯t underestimate them either.

    Are you ready?

    Recite it.

    She does and I repeat out loud, trusting in her to guide Essence and mana from within and into the ritual while I act as the physical conduit for it, voicing the action we want to take to reality.

    ¡°Reais ud dumen.¡± Essence flows out of my open [Soul Crystal] and mana leaks from my fingertips. My thralls return to their senses as I lose focus on the dome, but it¡¯s far too late for anyone to do anything.

    The mixed substance of Essence and mana leaks into the nostrils of sixty-seven Humans, forcing even the crippled and unconscious to their feet and then raising them beyond that.

    ¡°Kel mal dul. Usk ndarin.¡± The voice does her work well, for a consciousness that¡¯s supposedly resided within me all this time. Under her direction, I sense Essence snatch and bite at the core mana of each of our raised victims.

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    It mixes with theirs, and as it tunnels out with the stolen mana their chests bulge. Ribs creak and crack until it bursts open and sixty-seven beating hearts still tethered to their bodies hang out in the air.

    ¡°Blud vak mal. Reais ud dumen. Usk ndarin!¡± The air shifts dangerously and the gathered Essence¡ªnearly all of what I can spend¡ªand mana swirls overhead. Blood from the pumping hearts bleeds into it, turning it into a dark orange maelstrom.

    My vision blurs and my mouth turns dry as winds billow away around me. There are screams for Lumina from her men. The sacrifices, now drained of blood, drop to the floor dead at last and I rise in their place.

    Flashes of something¡­ someone, a face I¡¯ve seen before. A woman, dirty cheeked and rash with her spatula¡­ a Goblin.

    I let out a groan as a searing pain threatens to crack my head open. ¡°Ahhh!¡± I¡¯m screaming, moaning as my victims did mere moments ago. The storm above condenses and I continue to rise.

    Stop¡­ what is this? No¡­

    It¡¯s too late, Nil. This is what you wanted, isn¡¯t it? Power?

    My head feels like it¡¯s tearing open as more flashes of this woman, of this Goblin, of a village, and of a man continue to flood my blurred vision. My thoughts jumble and the rising turns into a great fall. I flop about but feel a tug at my feet. The storm calms with streaks of Essence and mana surges, streaking around it. There¡¯s a world in it, beyond the storm¡ªin the storm. I recognize it immediately.

    The pull at my feet grows beyond what I can fight with my head being split apart so I sink, Reais the last thing in my vision and the sensation of Essence rejuvenating my dried [Soul Crystal], filling it up beyond Crimson. I¡¯ve reached Blood Orange.

    We¡¯ve reached Blood Orange, Nil. Take a rest, you¡¯ve worked so hard after all.

    Her voice swallows me up as the dark unknown of my subconscious, the recesses of my own [Soul Crystal] drown me. I¡¯d curse her, but she kept her end of the deal, and now I know exactly who she is.

    I shut my eyes and accept defeat.

    <hr>

    [!!!]

    [Contested Mortal Realm!]

    [Minor Connection¡ª Nil]

    [Greater Connection¡ª Nil]

    [Ire-Reais 616 Friction¡ª 21%] [1<sup>st</sup> Ripple in¡­50 years...]

    The air is filled with mana, Essence, and blood. My first breath in thousands of years brings a smile to my lips. My first sight is none other than the bodies of those sacrificed for my rebirth. I should honor them, but there¡¯s such little time as fools campaign against me.

    The Prince¡¯s battalion descends. Five hundred armed and armored Warrior-Mages mounted on battle beasts the likes of dire wolves, vicious salamanders, and even griffons.

    I figure since these are just the mounted fighters there¡¯s still some of the battalion incoming. The most powerful sits on a brilliant griffin, wings as white as some dire wolves even. He glowers down at me, bathed in the blood, mana, and strength of his fellows. His eyes flicker to the palace and he wastes little time ordering a charge.

    The Seeker Blade whispers away, snatching toes off the mounts while I feed into the fund of mana surging within me for the first time in thousands of years. ¡°[Raise Undead]!¡±

    The pile of bodies around me jerk, their bones cracking and twisting as skin darkens and faces contort at the necrotic force raising them to undeath. Soon I have a personal wall of human shields. Although I¡¯ve ascended to Blood Orange tier, I¡¯m not as eager as Nil to rush into the battle personally, not when magic will suffice well enough.

    Though I rapidly retreat to the stairs, their leader beats me there. Lumina¡¯s spikes do little against strong bred griffin bones and flesh, even less against the man¡¯s armor. He leaps off his mount, spearhead sinking toward my head.

    I smack it aside and slap him aside with an Essence-infused punch. He doesn¡¯t relent and charms himself to continue his charge. Annoyed, I decide then to end him. My wall of undead won¡¯t last long against enemies of this caliber, especially when I have so little.

    I zip toward him and he matches me with a short blade from his hip. He slashes against my fingernails but I lash out with magic, ¡°[Death Grip]!¡± A green specter of my hand latches onto his neck and squeezes as I squeeze, necrotic mana takes his skin fast, eating through his magical defenses as I fuel the spell with mana he cannot endure.

    He lashes out with a ring, slapping me in the face with a startling bolt of lightning that materializes from his ring. The momentary distraction undoes my spell and forces me to a knee. Behind me my undead are trampled and the rest of the battalion moves to aid their leader.

    It¡¯s a little too late for that though. The necrotic effects of my spell have eaten through his throat; he can¡¯t breath and he can¡¯t swallow the pitiful potion he¡¯s struggling for.

    Crushing his head beneath my feet, I turn to face his battalion, a new spell ready. ¡°[Blood Surge]!¡± Before anyone can think to attack, blood from the mounts, from the Warrior-Mages, surges out overhead, pooling into a large crimson ball of blood.

    All the work I sent the Seeker Blade off to do hasn¡¯t gone to waste. The fools try to pounce at me with their mounts and their magic, but the newfound speed of a Blood Orange tier and my personal buffs keep their attacks away.

    Twenty Mages coordinate attacks at me with seventeen Warriors receiving buffs. I outclass them by a lot, but they¡¯ve found their footing quickly as well. A warhammer comes down where I stood a second ago and daggers anticipate my next position. I parry and multi-cast [Cobble Shield] as torrents of fire and bolts of lightning strike at me.

    I¡¯m running out of mana, but the ball of blood isn¡¯t satisfactory yet. A woman slashes at what¡¯s left of Nil¡¯s dress and I stab my hand through her head. It¡¯s slow and progressive, but I¡¯m being worn out. Their mounts and some of their Mages have fallen to [Blood Surge] already, and while I could cast another round of [Raise Undead] I want enough blood to make this a final attack.

    Twins roar toward me. Chains linked together, they circle around me mouthing words¡­ carnal words.

    Guess the Prince¡¯s battalion aren¡¯t slouches, they¡¯ve figured me out!

    I wanted to wait a bit longer and take them all out before they overwhelm Lumina in the palace, she can only have so much mana to spend controlling attacks all over the large monument. But they¡¯ve forced my hand. I can¡¯t let them banish me, not now.

    ¡°Sorry, boys, I leave when I¡¯m due. [Blood Shower]!¡±

    The large ball of blood bulges then splinters off into several thin, sharp, and deadly shards. It rains blood.

    The twins falter at the sight of their main groups torn apart by the rain. I dash toward one and break his arm, pulling his brother into my grip before either can scream. ¡°It could have been worse,¡± I tell them. Their magic falters and their resolve dies. ¡°It could have been acid rain.¡±

    My mana is spent. I curse Nil for focusing so little on magic and snap their necks. Still, Nil didn¡¯t do so bad; I wouldn¡¯t have won this without the basis Nil provided.

    The battalion still lives. There are around two hundred more¡ªthe rear flank waiting for the three hundred they sent to win the palace¡ªbut they aren¡¯t moving. They¡¯re full of panic, fear, and cowardice. Maybe I was wrong and the Prince¡¯s battalion is a bunch of cowards.

    I chuckle to myself and wipe the blood off my eyelid.

    ¡°Nil!¡± a voice roars out from the palace. I turn and find Lumina marching out with the Prince at her side, his horror plain as day. She must have let him in, shown him my¡­ our performance.

    ¡°Lumina, Queen of Hescaria, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you,¡± I say, bloody hand extended.

    She frowns at my hand, at my smile, then shakes her head, ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re not Nil.¡±

    My smile remains, but I let my hand drop as I stare out at the remaining soldiers of the Prince¡¯s battalion. ¡°Should I clean them up? Hmm, I¡¯d like to perform that ritual again, if only for the Seeker Blade here. I¡¯m sure Nil would love to see him in tier two again.¡±

    Lumina shakes her head. She starts to say something, but I lay a hand on her cheek, staining it with blood as I trace a thumb across her lips. ¡°No, I¡¯m not Nil. Nil is¡­ indisposed at the moment, but I¡¯m much better, aren¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Who are you?¡± she manages not to stammer.

    ¡°Nil wanted to know that too, but Nil¡¯s always known¡­ I am King.¡±

 Interlude: Nil

    The woman who bears me is brave. Having little in life, she marries a man of little worth for a delusion of love. A love that would lead her to a life of long suffering, prayers to Teir, the God of Endurance, who cries and carries the agony of followers. To bear insult from peers who by guile, force, and talent rose far beyond her and her love.

    Even braver as she and her love dared to express it, to conquer it and own it beneath their stiff, dirty sheets and bring me to their world, to this world. My world.

    A godless world in truth. If Teir held any worth as a Deity, I would have been rewarded a life without strife as a gift for my parent¡¯s folly and for their devout worship.

    I crawled out of her, this brave woman. Arms first, seeking to shield my soft head from the punishment of life, seeking to break the fall as she squats me out of her. I would have broken her that day, but suffering hardens men and it got to quick work hardening me.

    The door shatters in, the brave woman screams, then roars and flings the brewing pot of stew at the snarling invader. Bathed in supper, the hunched, green creature several feet taller than a five-year-old me rushes at her. In their struggle, Mother screams for me to flee. Her prized knife in hand scratches flesh off the green creature but my feet will not move, my arms tremble but do not reach out for her, do not reach to help. My lips are sealed, even as a scream bubbles in my throat. Fresh air stings my unblinking eyes as the green creature snaps her defiant wrist and bites into her neck.

    Her love had either won a game in the taverns like he said or claimed his first life as a marauder. But the money was put to good use. The supper made, now stained on the Vampire Ghoul, would have also been my first meal before my first day in school.

    The Ghoul rips her neck out and guzzles her blood as she moans, gargling pleas that I leave, that I escape the nightmare.

    I don¡¯t know how I escaped. But I woke safe, uninjured but homeless and left with her love.

    Aged eight, I¡¯d learned better not to call the women he brought home Mother, but I¡¯d yet to learn not to yearn for their¡­ love. Even though I had nothing, not even a father¡¯s love, they seemed jealous of me. I carried his tools on my thin back and ventured into the mines behind him. The mines carried soot, dirt, and flint so sensitive that venturing in doesn¡¯t mean you come back out.

    The mine put food on the table, gave injuries and took the men of my little, traumatized village. It took two years of warring to cleanse the threat, to push it far back into the crevasses of darkness the Vampire Lord and his lieutenants came from.

    Our village, one of the most scarred, was designated along with several others to form a new county, a new region under the watch of a Count. His name was unimportant, but his deeds and sacrifice in the war effort were of true note.

    He visited.

    He¡¯d come for something else but I saw him, met him and shook his hand with those orphaned by the Vampire Horde. The true orphans, quick to make their lack of parents what made them special, scorned me and revealed me to him¡ªI thank them for the boon even more than my useless father.

    The Count picked me in the end. Took me with him and even listened when I said there was no need to clear with my Father, he was as eager as I was for me to leave, but not everyone was happy.

    I¡¯d turned twelve when I realized why the Count picked me. Although I trained and practiced martial arts under his tutelage, wielded weapons larger than myself, ate feasts to fatten me up and strengthen my bones, he never said what any of it was for. I assumed he was preparing me for battle against the Vampire Lords, that they and theirs would return inevitably and I¡¯d need to be there, to strike vengeance down on the beasts who tore my mother apart.

    Alas, he marched me out against his rivals, tore his betters open through four years of war, and as he crowned himself Duke of the lands he¡¯d ripped from their cold hands, I absorbed even more of the world¡¯s horrors.

    Aged sixteen, I led a squad of strong, heavily armored Knights that protected the Duke. From time to time my position would be challenged¡ªa child should dare not lead they¡¯d say, before their lives were snuffed out at the end of my blade. The blade was a long, burning one, ignited with flames that¡¯d burn any Vampire to ash. But I never fought Vampires, only men.

    Knight of the Duke. Men recited poems and women seduced. I took to them both. The war was over, but the horrors lingered¡ªI found peace in the comforts only another can give. A whore I favored had a child. I adopted her and only her. Acting as I believed for her parent¡¯s prayers and devout to Teir, she should be spared a life of suffering. I introduced her to my master when she turned of age and raised her better than my father thought to raise me.

    Aged twenty, scarred from challenges but renowned through the kingdom, my daughter crawls into my lap, merely three years old, and asks, ¡°What do you fight for?¡±

    Earlier she¡¯d tried to stop some street boys fighting and got tossed aside, wailing as the skin of her knee and palm peeled away for blood. She must wonder the use of it, why the little boys fight, why they do not know peace and why she must watch them hurt others and be hurt herself. I¡¯d never asked myself this question. Renowned Knight that I am, I fought men with the thought that a Vampire would be ten times stronger¡ªbut I never fought Vampires.

    ¡°What do I fight for?¡± I don¡¯t get the chance to answer her before her caretaker comes to pick her up.

    Aged twenty-two, I¡¯ve ignored calls to war, promised castles, barons, and land all over the kingdom for the call of adventure, the call of madmen. I am no longer Knight to the Duke¡ªI am a scarred man with a fading legend. I no longer have a daughter, claimed by floods I mourned for months, prayed to Teir and bore the ache all the same, as though my prayers fell to the ground as I spoke them. All I have now is a resolve to find a purpose, to find something worth fighting for.

    Beside me a large man, two feet taller than I am and broader, wields a bloodied axe. Gritting a bark of wet wood in his teeth, he grits through the pain of his lost arm as another ties and cleans the wound.

    ¡°Let me just cauterize it,¡± our Mage says, bored of the break we have to take. His hands flicker with fire.

    ¡°No!¡± the Berserker roars, spitting out the bark.

    He speaks of traditions, but I know that arm will fester and kill him if these caverns don¡¯t. Our White is a novice at anything that requires actual bandaging; he might have had a better chance if I¡¯d done it for him, but I¡¯m not here to preserve their lives.

    The three bicker a bit before I stand and stare out into the dark that encircles our pit fire. Pulling my sword, I take stance, and that¡¯s all the creatures in the dark need. Flame arcs past me, blowing up a set. My body becomes lighter and my arms strengthen¡ªthe work of our White. As Lancer, I launch out through the fray. Having no need to see in the dark, I spear through dozens of the ugly creatures at a time, leaving none with their heads.

    Adventurers are brave people, and like the brave woman who bore me, find death sooner than most. As is with brave people, their fear is of things beyond. They find hope where there is none like fools, and they call on Gods to protect them and give comfort.

    Aged twenty-four, I¡¯ve mastered the skills of a Lancer. A light breaks through my mind and a presence fills my heart. Raising my head, I bow to the curled, orange Dragon laying on an ancient tree, blessed with its power, with its crusade against evil doers, thieves, and liars. Guided by honor.

    Aged twenty-eight, I believe myself brave enough to find purpose in exterminating evil. A large man stands beside me, larger than the Berserker who died to the infection in his arm and smarter too. Small tusks protrude from his lips, a pale green patch of skin littered with scars covers muscles tougher than I could manage. This man is my half-brother.

    Born to my father and the wild Orc who kidnapped him some years after I abruptly left home. Not particularly handsome and rather violent, the young half-Orc searched for me when Father never lifted a muscle. He¡¯s chased my legend as a Knight and my accomplishments as an adventurer and become one himself to impress me, his older brother. I don¡¯t understand it, but I don¡¯t care.

    Separate, we pray and seek the comfort of silent beings we placate and seek boons from before venturing into the cave. Wearing battered armor and wielding broken weapons. Torn across with slashes, cuts, and frostbite, we venture into the cave. Stalking after the Vampire Lord who attempted to rule and transform the Barony scorching behind us. Our party¡¯s been shattered, underestimating the strength of the beast and its magic. All that¡¯s left is family.

    The Vampire Lord is weak. It overwhelmed us and escaped; it¡¯s merely a pyrrhic victory. I fear as the battle creeps closer, with the head start he¡¯s had to suck wailing citizens dry and consume their children in frenzied hunger, this will surely be pyrrhic as well. I may lose my brother, my family, or he may lose me. After searching so far and long to find me¡­ just to lose me again. I don¡¯t know what to do.

    Skulking in the dark, feeding rabidly on a rat, the Vampire Lord is a pathetic shell of what he used to be. He pales, fangs dripping blood in my brother¡¯s light spell and shrieks after us. Flailing at us, I parry every one of his blows but his strength isn¡¯t forgotten and my weapon continues to chip. My brother roars in the [Luna Light] illuminating the cave and tackles the beast, taking him to the floor.

    Eyes wide, I rush as the Vampire Lord sinks his teeth in. Roaring, desperate, I gather the flicker of mana left and shoot, ¡°[Draecnir¡¯s Blaze]!¡±

    A quick shot of fire, an arrow, a lance, a spear. It runs through them both and the Vampire ignites from the serene flames of my Dragon Master. He roars in defiance more than agony as his body disintegrates. He doesn¡¯t let go; rather, he deepens the bite and casts me a hateful look before burning away.

    I killed and buried my brother before he could turn.

    Aged thirty, a messenger finds me in a tavern. Drunk, sick, lost, and tired. But the messenger cares little for my well-being and shoves the letter in my hand, wrapping my fingers around it after mumbling something.

    When I¡¯m my better self, I find the letter reads of the Duke¡¯s death. My foster father¡¯s death. At that, shock runs through me and I scramble for memories of the man. When had he taken me as his own? When had I agreed to forsake my true father? None of this matters though, as the next section details that by his will and by blessing of the King herself, I am named heir of his lands and titles. I command a duchy.

    I want to feel joy, feel pride, but all I feel is numb. I¡¯m grateful to the man, but I didn¡¯t have any desire to rule as a Noble. All I wished is for some purpose, and I¡¯ve lost that too. What¡¯s the use of fighting if you don¡¯t have anything to protect? These years, drink and thought accompany me. My legend has faded into obscurity and as an adventurer I¡¯ve become a relic, a case study of what failure looks like. I hear them whisper.

    Still, the sour of my life isn¡¯t enough to blind me from what¡¯s amiss. If I command a duchy, then that messenger should have been a procession. One of Knights running to pledge their allegiance, Counts looking for favor, and Advisors to tell me the state of my duchy. None of that is found outside the tavern or anywhere near this town, far away from the duchy I supposedly own.

    Something is amiss. But I¡¯m unharmed and free to continue my drinking, snoring, and brawling. But¡­ he¡¯s my foster father. Although I left the man in search of a purpose he couldn¡¯t give me, he gave me love, the best he could manage, and he gave me a home, his blessing to take the child of a whore, and now he¡¯s given me his lands and titles. To forsake that now would be an insult. I may as well piss on his grave.

    Aged thirty-one, I¡¯m greeted with hostility in my own duchy. Men stare, eyes glazed with fear at the sight of me. Already, news of my return has blazed through the county. It¡¯s not safe for me anywhere, but I¡¯ve made it to the gates, my gates.

    ¡°Bring the traitor out!¡± I holler at the gates; I¡¯m armed to the teeth. Ready to slay anyone who gets in my way, whoever covets my father¡¯s titles, my titles. And I have. Assassins have not lost me in taverns, forests, and roadways. They¡¯ve met their ends at my fists and blades, my fire and wind.

    Men run across the battlements of the wall, some pointing bows at me as others have their best weapons taken out. There is no Mage to fling magic at me and there is no one brave enough to let their arrows loose. Dragon scales may guard me, but I know they fear what would come of any further provocation. This is enough for me. Burning down my own gates and killing my men is not what I¡¯ve come for.

    ¡°Fools! Bring the master you guard and I will not roast you.¡± I let Draecnir¡¯s flames ignite over me. They flinch, morale falters, and argument rises from beyond the gates. Mutiny begins and I continue, ¡°With the sun at its peak, you know what I¡¯m capable of. I am Lancer! Lancer of Draecnir! Ancient Dragon of the Suns! I am your rightful liege. Open the gates!¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    It¡¯s not long before the gates creak open. I let my flames flicker away, mana spent in bravado. There are men tied and kneeling at my front, and others bow and seek to pledge allegiance. Meaning to set a precedent, I take off the heads of the traitors, the fools arguing for the thief. Blood splatters over the men and they shudder. Times of peace have made them weak, but not too weak.

    Taking their pledges, I go on in the same manner until over a hundred men, Knights, and guards march behind me. A Lance lies on the thieves¡¯ heart; a man I do not recognize.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± He stammers, and I know he is a puppet. ¡°I will find your strings.¡±

    Aged thirty-two, I dip my head to the magnificence of wealth and power, the King. ¡°Rise, my dear vassal.¡± She smiles upon me and finds favor, a favor all of the court see and envy. ¡°You are the Vampire Hunter, Slayer of Undead Armies.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my King.¡±

    ¡°Then you are my Knight.¡±

    The throne room goes silent, only eyes speak, and they speak of power and greed. I shake my head and wish for pardon. ¡°If it pleases my liege, I will remain at my duchy and protect it.¡±

    At my refusal, the large, glittering room remains still with silence. The King speaks,.¡°I heard you had to fight your way to your own throne. Are you afraid that if you¡¯re away from it, you will lose it?¡±

    ¡°No, my liege. If I lose it, I can always take it back.¡±

    ¡°Even from me?¡± Now the whispers come, the threat is made, her arm is flexed right at my throat. To defy her again would court death. ¡°Your father, foster father, begged that I let his will stand. Many disagreed and I¡¯m sure that¡¯s why you had to fight for the throne in the first place, but I let it be, I willed it. Would you have his last wishes denied now?¡±

    I take a breath and bite my lip. Her beauty disguises a guile I must fear and a dangerous thought crosses my mind. I shake it away. ¡°No, my liege.¡±

    ¡°Then you are my Knight.¡±

    Aged thirty-nine, the King has had enough of my sly, chaste games and tosses me onto her expansive bed, falling atop me. Panting with a hunger the court would deem unbecoming, her breath of wine meets mine in gasps. She refuses to find my eyes despite this, knowing she¡¯ll find only protests and none of the hunger I see in hers. Her tongue dances along my walls and I send mine to wrap around it¡ªto do nothing would mean I don¡¯t want her, that I refuse her right to her subject. An insult to the King.

    Years and years have culminated in this moment. I am a slave to her whims and I¡¯ve frustrated her into taking me rather than submitting as all others would. Now it¡¯s all I can do not to throw her off.

    ¡°You¡¯re so cold, must I fight for every bit of you?¡± she moans into me, and I can¡¯t help thinking if I¡¯d given into her from the beginning she¡¯d have left me alone afterward. Maybe even tossed me aside if I appeared too eager. I could be right, but I¡¯ve gotten it wrong already. She is King, and if a King is refused for long enough, conquest is all that¡¯s left.

    Her groans echo through as she rides. Looking up at her, she is a beauty, but the tears bubbling beneath me scream savagely. For all my skill and power, I¡¯ve been conquered. She smiles, ecstasy rippling through her coils, and I know this won¡¯t be the last.

    Aged forty-two, I duck under the curtains of Her Majestie¡¯s war camp. Lush carpets accept my dirty boots and the scent of roasted pheasant and fruit waft away the burnt bodies of my victims. Hunched over a shifting map of the battlefield, she scowls at my feet but beckons me forward anyway.

    ¡°They¡¯re cutting through our flank, Dragon Knight. They¡¯re not supposed to manage that.¡±

    ¡°They saw us coming and prepared a trap of theirs, my liege. Send me there and I¡¯ll make short work of them,¡± I pant. The war has raged for days; my first squad is all but mush coming out of the digestive systems of the monsters we push against. My side aches from where a werebear¡ªone of their Necromancer¡¯s many puppet beasts¡ªslashed me. My Draconic aspects find a stalemate against the Necromancer¡¯s rot; the wound doesn¡¯t fester anymore, but it refuses to close.

    ¡°No. If the Necromancer falls his undead beasts lose their coordination, we¡¯ll slaughter them. Come.¡± She calls me close and presses a single hand against my wound. Without chants or whispers, her hands glow a soothing green and the rot dissipates. ¡°I will join you.¡±

    ¡°Join me? In battle?¡± she straps on her boots, her regal cloak snaps across her shoulders, and a long, bloodstained sword caresses her soft hands. ¡°My liege, I will bring you his head. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°I trust you. Now, enough fretting. This madman has threatened my kingdoms long enough.¡±

    Aged forty-four, years of war with creatures of darkness have brought out the darkness within the King. I fear her now more than ever. Her power grows in magnitudes and kingdoms fall and flock under her banner. The Necromancer died at her gleaming red blade, his lair destroyed by her magic. I failed to bring her his head, but she wasn¡¯t incensed¡ªno, she was glad, relieved that she¡¯d taken it upon herself to meet him. And now, staring down at the massacre unfolding below my Wyvern, I know why.

    ¡°My King.¡± I gasp at her figure as she stalks the slope toward me and my regiment, the head of Anera¡¯s Priest in hand. ¡°Anera will not take kindly to this, or your¡­  experiments.¡±

    The castle razed and brought to rubble belongs to neutral parties, or at least I thought so. Her experiments litter behind her, rasping and clawing at themselves. Puppets, she called them when I arrived. Puppets made up of chopped-up parts of men, women, and even children. The pale things are barely held up by the magic she employed, magic she¡¯s learned from the Necromancer.

    ¡°My King,¡± I repeat, a desperate plea for her to stop, to consider what she¡¯s doing. ¡°These creatures¡­ they¡¯re ungodly.¡±

    I¡¯m rewarded with a chuckle. She¡¯s alone, with none of her armies, none of her men¡ªjust her and these creatures. Draecnir forewarned me of the evil festering in her, and I see it now more than ever. There¡¯s only one way to escape this.

    ¡°Ungodly you say?¡± she speaks at last, although she stuffs her hand through the decapitated head of the Priest, fingering around as she addresses me. ¡°What of man? What of Orcs, Elves, and all the evil races of the land? You and I are as guilty of being ungodly for we are not Gods, and until we become Gods¡­ we¡¯re all sinners.¡±

    ¡°Sinner I may be, but I don¡¯t entertain savagery.¡±

    ¡°Hypocrite!¡± she hisses out, startling me with the hate as she spits the word in my face. ¡°You enslave the very beast you ride upon now, just as I enslave you. You burn and torch fellow humans and every beast that comes against you without a moment¡¯s hesitation. And you call me savage? Why? Because I dare¡­¡± she rips something out of the head and it sags, ¡°do this? Has Dracenir been whispering in your ear?¡±

    Tossing the head aside, a bright Crystal shines through the blood and gore on her hands. She smiles at it. ¡°Do you even know what this is? This is truth, this is power. You sneer down at me because you¡¯re afraid of it.¡± She sets the Crystal aside and approaches, petting my Wyvern. ¡°Tell me, why have you never fought against me? You spoke of purpose once; did you find it in me?¡±

    No. I never did. I thought I would. I planned and schemed to slip away several nights. To rouse a coup and even took the steps toward it. But I never did. I grew complacent, because what worth would I have at the top of it all? I didn¡¯t understand victory, complete victory. Not like she does.

    ¡°Because¡­ because I¡¯d fallen for you.¡± Her eyes meet mine, and I breathe out more of the truth. ¡°I hate you still but¡­ I love you now. I don¡¯t know what else lies beyond, but I admire you for striving, for the continued effort. If I were you, I¡¯d contemplate killing myself after every victory, after another nation bows, after another King is slain. I don¡¯t know why anything exists, why I exist. But you¡¯ve made me exist for you¡ªby the force of your hand and your lips you¡¯ve made me exist.¡±

    I¡¯m sure of it. Had I not inherited my foster father¡¯s titles, had I not felt a pang of duty, of gratitude toward him, had I not returned to claim them as my own, I know I would have died and maybe I would have been spared the turmoil of existence that plagues me day by day. The King, for all the spite and bile I resign to curse her name, has made me have more worth than any God or Dragon.

    The King smiles wryly. ¡°Then you know I will not force you in this. Go against me now and you will find the death you desire. I will have you know¡­ my ambition, it goes far beyond kingdoms and Kings.¡± She sets out a hand. ¡°Join me and we¡¯ll create a new world, a new place without any of the sufferings you have had to bear.¡±

    I scoff at her hand. ¡°Lies. A paradise shaped by you of all people? Of all Kings? Besides, Anera will strike you down before long.¡±

    She shrugs. ¡°She will send her heroes, and she may even send her avatar. But I am King. King of more than you know.¡±

    Aged forty-nine, we are beset on every side. Kingdoms under our heel resist our boot, across our borders we fight seven wars in seven nations with fourteen armies. The King has garnered the attention of the righteous, of rivals who would do without her and of Deities who spite us both.

    Chaos swirls our kingdoms, but the King and her Knight are nowhere to be found.

    Stepping into the large chamber, I find the King digging into another one of our puppets. They are stronger now and less of the horror they were before. She picks another one of the Crystals dug from the Priests we¡¯ve slaughtered across the continent and chants the words. At her side and under her tutelage, I¡¯ve mastered Necromancy and raised undead Dragons for our wars¡ªa slight Draecnir didn¡¯t take to, as he too has taken up arms against me. The Dragon Deity is no fool though, the war between us is merely a formality, so that the other Gods do not look down on him for leaving me be.

    The gleaming Crystal darkens as the King¡¯s might overtakes that of the God who designed it. Their Priests and mighty servants always carry one within their bodies; it is their assigned portion of divine power, one that grows the more the God favors them.

    That favor is ours now. To corrupt and twist for our armies. The sky cracks with lightning as yet another storm takes shape above the castle. The King chuckles at the ceiling, hands filthy with the blood of our creations.

    ¡°They¡¯ll cut us down soon,¡± I tell her, dragging in another Priest¡¯s corpse with me.

    She wipes her nose and nods. ¡°Yes¡­ they will.¡±

    ¡°We will succeed before then,¡± I promise and join her beside the open puppet. It drools with blood and poorly formed saliva, eyes rolling against each other as its mouth trembles with words unformed. Looking upon it, I smile, ¡°A new race of man¡­ of us. We ought to name them something other than puppets.¡±

    She smiles and takes my lips. ¡°I¡¯ll let you decide. Bring this one to its senses for me first.¡±

    She hands me the corrupted Crystal. It brims with a power no longer divine, but that will change. She steps over and flings the body of the Priest I dragged in onto a heap before setting herself at the center of the circle. ¡°Quickly now.¡±

    Hastened, I insert the Crystal into one of its organs¡ªit doesn¡¯t matter which, what matters is the tether of mana and blood I pull out. Thin and dripping, the string of mana and blood swirls at my fingertips, dragging behind me as I paint the circle the King stands in with it, chanting as I do.

    Soon, an ethereal glow takes the circle. Our puppet jerks, organs and all spilling out from its open stomach. It howls as we exchange a knowing look. A keen frequency rings through my ears as the thread of blood and mana I spooled into the circle mends the puppet in all its ways. Its mind fixed, re-written, and flooded with notes of importance. Organs flip back into place as though having legs and arms to pull themselves back. Once they¡¯re all inside, the previously separated organs fuse into a single mass. A single organ to preserve and reproduce¡ªan incubator.

    The body is fake. Nothing more than stitched-up parts of favored arms, legs, and even heads. The organs are the same. Our puppet needs no lungs or heart. It only needs the incubator, and that is set.

    I look to the King and find a weak smirk on her lips. Mine falls, as I know this ritual is taxing. I would reach out to help, but I know she would smack my hand aside. So I stand and hope.

    The puppet flops, screams in agony unknown. But our smile remains. It is not alive to know pain, we¡¯ve made sure. Hurling out stomach acids and contents, it roars in a false pain as the incubator grows ripe within it.

    ¡°Now. Help me.¡±

    Surprise races through me at the words. I find her eyes to be sincere and I nod. Arms raised, I coat my being in protective mana as I cross into the circle. It shudders and fights against me, but the King grabs my hand and pulls me close.

    ¡°This is it. We¡¯re doing it,¡± she gasps, looking older than her century. I squeeze her hand and join the ritual. Guiding my mana around hers, intertwining the two as they spear through the puppet¡¯s shell of a body to feed the incubator, to feed the Crystal within.

    ¡°After so many trials. We¡¯re going to be parents,¡± she huffs, standing straight as my efforts ease her burden. The strain finds me though, as do her lips.

    ¡°Very touchy today,¡± I comment through a groan. The Crystal is a greedy pit. Corrupting it is one thing, feeding it to grow what we need is another.

    ¡°This may be our last. The Gods are coming, but we must succeed. And we will, even if they destroy us.¡± The storm overhead rages fiercer. Banging against the coats of spellwork, barriers, Dragons, and the very foundation of the earth. Their anger is rife.

    ¡°They can¡¯t destroy us. After this, we will be Gods.¡±

    Her lips turn blue, as does her mood, and I fear the worst. She shakes her head and says, ¡°Here comes the last part. I didn¡¯t tell you because¡­ I thought I wouldn¡¯t need you, but I do. Will you help me?¡±

    ¡°Always.¡±

    The puppet bulges. Now deformed beyond any recognition, its mass of flesh contorts onto itself, wrapping around and presenting the incubator. A ghost wind bursts through the room, and somehow a fire follows it. They¡¯re here.

    Swirling against our powers, the forces attempting to teleport in find trouble, but so do we. We¡¯re not strong enough to feed the incubator to life and fight them off. I snap my fingers and a primal roar crows from beyond the walls.

    Within moments the castle walls crumble against the penetrating head of my undead mount. It screeches death and pours venom over the mound of bodies, raising them as undead.

    ¡°That should hold them,¡± I say without as much confidence as I intend.

    The undead launch themselves onto the sharpening forms of our invaders, gnawing at flesh still struggling to teleport through our barriers. I smirk. ¡°Foolish heroes.¡±

    ¡°Ah!¡± the King wails as barriers shatter against a new presence outside. I snap my fingers at my Dragon, but it doesn¡¯t move. I look up as the broken, trembling walls pull¡ªour castle decapitated by the Dragon¡¯s body. I gulp at the massive figure wielding its carcass like a baton.

    A God¡ªno, an Avatar.

    Clad in chainmail, wielding thunder in one hand, a beard white and long with eyes gleaming unbridled chaos. Reinmer, the Storm God, bears down at us and I know behind its blinding white eyes it sees nothing but pests that ought to be put down. Reinmer disintegrates my undead Dragon in its hand and peers down, shrinking in size.

    Rain batters down on us, mana continues to drain, and the undead I summoned are slaughtered by the heroes teleporting in. It would serve to have an army here, but against an Avatar of an intermediary Deity they¡¯d be disintegrated all the same.

    I see my death in him as he marches pass the croaking puppet or what¡¯s left of it¡ªa black, thick orb of cultivated Deific Essence, an Incubator for the new species we were to pioneer. Our children.

    He pokes it and lightning crackles against his fingertips. I flinch, as does my King. She¡¯s fallen, drained of nearly all her power. The heroes take measured steps around the Avatar, all regarding the incubator with spite. They wouldn¡¯t understand.

    ¡°Why?¡± I stammer, teeth chattering at the cold.

    ¡°Why?¡± Reinmer repeats.

    ¡°Are you evil?¡±

    ¡°The Storm God is the bringer of¡ª!¡± one of the heroes begins to speak, but lightning strikes swiftly, stunning but not killing them. None speak up again.

    ¡°I am not.¡±

    ¡°Then are you good?¡±

    Reinmer raises an eyebrow at this, but he must be curious of what duo of humans would undertake such a task without protection from some otherworldly being, so he indulges me. ¡°I am.¡±

    ¡°Lies,¡± I hiss. ¡°Then why stop us?¡±

    ¡°You slay the servants of Gods. You rip out the favor bestowed unto them. You corrupt it. You attempt to create your own slaves to worship and adore you into godhood. You forget your place. Greed is a sin.¡±

    ¡°Is it? Would Feio, Goddess of Thieves and Assassins, agree?¡±

    ¡°There is evil in all places. Feio is merely one of the many evils of the divine. If I had the power, I would smite her as I am about to smite you.¡±

    He raises an arm and a bolt, a spear of such magnificence, appears. It is a weapon worthy of the God, perhaps even more so, as I know it¡¯s not his own.

    ¡°As the sent representative of aligned Gods, I¡¯ve come to see you to your end. To your penance. Be gone, foul child.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± the King yelps, springing from her place on the ground to shield me. Her magic may as well be a sheet of paper to the weapon. It spears us down as her lips meld with mine. Pleasure with a burst of agony is the last thing I feel as the divine power within sears through the King and I.

    ¡°We will¡­ we will...¡± she can¡¯t manage anymore, consumed as I am into darkness.

    Aged nil, I find myself on a wall, sure of one thing alone. ¡°The Gods will pay.¡±

 Step 13- Monarchs

    ¡°King¡­¡±

    Lumina visibly struggles to wrap her head around it. Her thoughts are ever clear to me, and for the first time I understand the true nature of Nil¡¯s power as a Demon. [Greater Cognizance] allows me to peer through and glide across a wave of moods, chemical and electric translations often tainted with mana beyond a veil of something as abstract as consciousness.

    Lumina is an open book.

    She want¡¯s Nil to be here, to be the Demon she¡¯s looking up at. The creeping dread of a trap bites and bubbles just under the surface as her eyes snatch about, looking for a possible lifeline to grasp¡ªsomething that¡¯ll tell her it¡¯s not over, that she didn¡¯t release a Demon into the world.

    My smile stretches and I think to give her the good news. ¡°Don¡¯t worry Lumina, I am no Demon, not any more than any other monarch, am I right?¡± My enchanted laugh rouses a nervous chuckle from her, and she relaxes. ¡°With Nil away, you¡¯re safe from the true Demon, trust me. But we ought to halt the introductions, Lumina, we¡¯ve still got unentertained company.¡±

    I stop to glance at the still battalion, what¡¯s left of it anyway. There are still a good hundred in that batch, although they reek of fear and confusion. I can¡¯t blame them. The majority of the upper brass, the chain of command was in that first pursuit¡ªthe one they watched me decimate in no less than ten minutes.

    A feat I¡¯m exhausted from. Nil hasn¡¯t built this body to withstand the things I need it to do to survive¡ªI¡¯m far from the ideal conditions for combat. Although, the physical prowess Nil¡¯s built and the Demon¡¯s nascent senses make for a rather interesting work around. I¡¯m primarily a Mage.

    I don¡¯t see myself carrying out any of Nil¡¯s savage mimicries except, of course, to make the proper adjustments. I was never a busty woman, and my memory¡¯s only exemplar with magic and battle, so these adjustments may be a tad off.

    Trait [Full Mimic] Attained!

    Look at me go, doing Nil a favor. I let myself shrink down to a comfortable height¡ªtall enough to stare down the middle of Lumina¡¯s head. She takes a step back and shudders at my hips narrowing.

    ¡°When do you think Valery¡¯s going to show up?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± she stutters, still entranced by me. I¡¯ve drowned under suitors and had several partners and admirers. Poets sung and wrote of me, but only my enemies and servants called me beautiful. She sees something else in my face, my shape beneath the shredded dress clinging against my skin.

    ¡°They won¡¯t stay still for long, and we don¡¯t exactly have the resources to fend them off.¡± I could raise all the corpses, monsters, and Humans as undead to defend us, but that won¡¯t be much more than a buffer. It takes work, preparation to create a worthwhile undead. We don¡¯t have the time for that now.

    There are a slew of [Spells] I can employ to snatch our safety. [Teleportation], I have to have been there. Being underneath Nil doesn¡¯t count, and even if it did I don¡¯t have the mana. I could summon other Demons if I wished, other beings and creatures to plough through the battalion, but again, preparation, time, and work. All the things I don¡¯t have in this thick, high-strung demonic body.

    For all its incompetence at the moment, I¡¯m grateful to have it. How long has it been since I could see? Taste? Hear and feel the wind. Best part is the immortality, easy, no need to find a work around for it. The Essence dependence sucks, so does the tie to Reais.

    An unfortunate adjustment. Reais. Now I¡¯ll have to rule from there no matter what.

    I¡¯d hoped to leave the savage place behind, but that will never be the case.

    ¡°She¡¯ll be here.¡± Lumina says, done speaking to Valery through the enchanted ring on her finger¡ªa common com-ring, a device she long since stripped her Prince of. The man stands bare, a terrible scowl strewn across his face but not one of remorse at his lost wife or his slaughtered guests.

    ¡°Lumina, think this through, Demon or not, you can¡¯t fight my father, you can¡¯t fight my Empire.¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s your empire now, is it? Never seemed to be your empire when you and your fucked up family of slavers forced me to execute my own people for menial crimes!¡± She¡¯s been at the edge for a time now, and the glowering battalion waiting a click away doesn¡¯t help either.

    I may have pressed the matter, but she¡¯s keenly aware of what¡¯ll happen if they attack early. If Valery arrives with the rallied kingdom and she¡¯s on her knees begging the Prince¡¯s forgiveness¡­ well, freedom is always an all-or-nothing affair.

    Something I¡¯m also struggling with. I had Nil form this pact for the security it¡¯d bring should Lumina be successful. But as it stands, I¡¯m weighing my options. Without my tools I can¡¯t fend off the rest of the battalion all on my own. Lumina herself is out of mana from manipulating the palace security.

    She yells and screams more of the Prince¡¯s failures, and he yells back with talk of responsibility, of power and intrigue and connections. None of which will matter now anyway. His base of power is shattered completely by this attack, and it serves him right¡ªwhat idiot hosts his anniversary in the palace of the angered race he¡¯s enslaved?

    I hum at the thought and shrug. It¡¯s something I would do, but only if they¡¯d been neutered, and the Elves clearly haven¡¯t been neutered. Which brings me to the most tempting option of the very few I have on hand.

    Snatch Lumina and make a run for it.

    They¡¯ll never catch us. If there¡¯s something Nil¡¯s done right, it¡¯s make this body fast, extremely so. Combine that natural talent with my [Spells] and we¡¯ve got a smooth escape, may as well be a regular journey.

    ¡°Nil.¡±

    ¡°King.¡±

    She shakes her head, ¡°Right¡­ how long do you think you can hold them off?¡± she nods at the battalion.

    ¡°Even if it¡¯s a D-tier Demon, my damned battalion is made up of B-tier, war-hardened Warrior-Mages! You¡¯ll be dead before you hit the ground!¡± Deran yells, kicking a rock off the side of the stairs.

    Ignoring him, I say, ¡°About the same time it took to clear the first batch,¡± I lie through my teeth. I wouldn¡¯t last more than three minutes, not if they¡¯re anything like the first. I need to recover my strength and get my bearings in this body. I¡¯m tempted to leap into the scattered and frightened population and steal some four dozen hearts. At least with that I¡¯ll open a rift to Reais and absorb enough Essence to get the Seeker Blade to tier 2.

    Lumina wouldn¡¯t like that.

    Ah¡­there you are, figured out your way around my old home so quickly. I¡¯m impressed.

    Nil doesn¡¯t say anything after that, but I¡¯m not hurt at the silence, I understand the struggle to get through all too well.

    ¡°If you can manage it, hold them off,¡± Lumina says. It¡¯s a desperate plea to wait a while longer, to hold off until Valery comes so all this death isn¡¯t in vain. So she hasn¡¯t soiled her ancestral palace with blood spilt over a lost battle.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, but I think I have a better idea than sending me off to face them all on my lonesome.¡±

    ¡°What? Are you scared, Demon? You should be. We use the likes of you for training.¡± Deran spits at my foot. I raise the foot up to his crotch and double while he¡¯s doubled over, smacking the back of his head.

    He flops over unconscious.

    Lumina doesn¡¯t say anything. She stares at the crumpled body of her once-lover and betrothed. I figure she¡¯s been expecting me to do something like that.

    ¡°You¡¯re fortunate I¡¯m not Nil, Queen Lumina.¡± I chortle and hoist Deran by his collar.

    ¡°Am I? You aren¡¯t Nil, even the connection I feel with you¡­ him? Ugh, Nil isn¡¯t gone, but I know I can¡¯t control you as well as I would him.¡±

    I smile and she asks, ¡°Why haven¡¯t you killed me yet? Why not hand me over and make a deal with the Empire?¡±

    ¡°Why not betray you?¡± She nods. I tuck the hair in my eyes behind my ears and set a hand on my hip. ¡°As a King, it serves me well to honor my alliances, even more so when those alliances are worth honoring.¡±

    ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    Walking away, I tell her, ¡°It means I¡¯m very much invested in our pact.¡±

    I set out toward the battalion before she can ask another question. The truth is that Lumina and her Elves have the same potential to rule over continents just as I did some thousand years ago. I¡¯ll need that kind of territorial power if I¡¯m to pick up where I left off.

    Where we left off, Nil corrects.

    My heart quickens and I nod. So you remember then, you know I¡¯m not your enemy, we are allies¡­ more than that even.

    They¡¯ll smite us again.

    We¡¯re a Demon now, Nil. We¡¯ve got the body¡­ the immortal soul needed to survive them, to challenge them even, and they gave it all to us on a platter.

    Wall of Deaders¡­ not that secure a prison.

    I chuckle at that and warmth spreads through me. No, it isn¡¯t. Kept us still for a few thousand years but¡­ that¡¯s all past now. I doubt Teir or Reinmer are even still Gods. They squabble just as much as any mortal.

    Still¡­ they will remember. They will act. We will fall.

    Not if we get things right this time. Being mortal rushed me, rushed us. We¡¯ll take it easier now, and if things get difficult we can always fall back to Reais; Deities have a hard time surviving there.

    After this. My body.

    At that my mood sours. Nil, I¡¯m the wiser of the two of us, I bet you haven¡¯t even recalled most of your Abilities, your Necromancy, your brilliant magic. And even if you did, it pales in comparison to mine anyway, doesn¡¯t it?

    My body.

    Annoyed, I shut Nil out and pick up the pace. Before long I¡¯m a few meters away from the Warrior-Mage they¡¯ve sent out to meet me in the thick suburbs of Hescaria¡¯s capital city. If they knew I had a Demon¡¯s body they¡¯d have sent more, surely.

    The Warrior-Mage rides a large, brown, scarred, one-eyed salamander clad in dark, heavy armor that sheathes and enhances the beast¡¯s natural claws. It watches me warily, eager to retreat, but it¡¯s nothing more than a mule to the man seated upon it.

    Armored not in metal but in magic, this man wields a large staff with a bright green gem at its curved crux. He reeks of magic¡ªthis one I¡¯m wary of. If only for all the possible enchantments he¡¯s thrown onto himself¡ªthe Seeker Blade as it is now won¡¯t penetrate his defenses.

    ¡°You have our Prince,¡± he says after examining me for a long while.

    ¡°If you could call him that.¡± I make a point of letting Deran¡¯s head fall on a rock. He flinches and I smile and take a step. His mount makes a noise, but he reins it in to stand his ground. Arms out, showing little opposition save the floating blade behind me, I say, ¡°You can take him back to his father, but only if I escort you out past the border.¡±

    ¡°Border? There aren¡¯t any state lines around these territories as far as I can tell.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re mistaken then. The kingdom¡­ or duchy, I¡¯m not sure what it¡¯s called now, but you¡¯re standing on the sovereign lands belonging to the monarch, Lumina au Hescaria.¡±

    ¡°Hescaria.¡± He seethes the name out, hissing at the air like he¡¯s spat poison. ¡°I¡¯ve always known that name would turn a blade in the Prince¡¯s back.¡±

    ¡°Then you should know it¡¯s still lodged in deep. A twist here or there and it¡¯s over for your little Prince.¡±

    He sneers and looks back to his men. His mind is a fortress, much like the others who came before him. But unlike Nil, I don¡¯t need [Greater Cognizance] to tell he¡¯s weighing his options.

    I let the Seeker Blade reveal itself so when he turns back to his Prince the stakes are instantly higher. He nearly launches a spell when he sees the blade leaning against the Prince¡¯s skull.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have much of an option.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re only one woman. A Demon by the looks of it too, and you may have taken out our commanders, but I know well enough that you¡¯re not strong enough to take on the rest of us, so there¡¯s no use bluffing your way to security.¡±

    ¡°Then you must also know that with each passing second the number of Warriors I¡¯ll kill before defeat goes up, and worse, you sense that cluster too. That¡¯s an army.¡±

    ¡°We can kill you and escape before they get here, call for reinforcements, and have your Elvish rebellion crushed before it even starts.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll sacrifice all the men in your battalion for that?¡±

    He doesn¡¯t say anything; the salamander is stubbornly retreating. It serves well to have a natural oppressive aura.

    I shrug and let the the Seeker Blade break through the Prince¡¯s soft skin. Blood dribbles out and I take a lick with my finger. ¡°Mm, Human really is delicious. I think I get what the fuss was all about now.¡±

    Turning an eye back to the disturbed man, I say, ¡°His blood is just like yours, I bet it doesn¡¯t taste any sweeter either. But the Emperor won¡¯t be happy to see his son dead because of a mere Elvish rebellion. Don¡¯t you think for all the Empire¡¯s might the little territories of Hescaria will a mere training day to the elite troops? Heck, why even bother the Empire¡¯s elites with Elves, ey?¡±

    His sneer deepens. ¡°You can¡¯t trick me, Demon.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Hescaria wasn¡¯t conquered, it was bought and paid for by the head of its previous Queen.¡±

    I frown and crouch beside Deran¡¯s bleeding neck, wetting my fingers with his blood and taking savory licks. ¡°So you¡¯re afraid? Don¡¯t want to see what little old Hescaria was hiding beneath her skirts?¡±

    ¡°I see it now, don¡¯t I? A Demon, a single D-tier, but enough to present a threat.¡±

    ¡°You flatter me.¡± I laugh. The salamander shrinks away, and I pout at him. ¡°Aww, you¡¯re that scared? Alhak za.¡±

    Employing Nil¡¯s favorite spell with a single chant, the dome snaps in place and the Warrior-Mages hidden in the homes and stores snap out at enemies¡¯ unseen. The Seeker Blade zips out, breaking through windows to lodge into the throat of the only one who resisted the spell.

    The man, unlike his mount, remains unfazed at his sinister plan unraveling beneath his feet. I call the blade back and take the bloodstained blade to my tongue. ¡°Mm, I was wrong. Some blood is simply tastier. Now I¡¯m curious how yours will compare to the Prince¡¯s. Maybe the Emperor is right after all¡ªyou should die for his sake.¡±

    The Seeker Blade snaps at him, but he raises a defense and exclaims, ¡°Enough! Enough already, you¡¯ve made your point and I¡¯ve made the minimum effort. The best I can do now is return with the Prince unharmed.¡±

    ¡°Oh, is that what you were doing? Giving the minimum effort expected of you. Hmm, well, so the Emperor takes you seriously and perhaps even graces you with splendor and honor for rescuing his son¡­ don¡¯t you think he can¡¯t come back in one piece?¡±

    His brows furrow, but my foot is already on the Prince¡¯s good arm. With little effort behind it, the bone cracks and Prince Deran lets out a terrible shriek, moaning at the agony of a broken arm.

    ¡°I said that¡¯s enough!¡±

    With the Seeker Blade at my call, I give the Prince mercy and cut it off above the elbow. He falls back asleep immediately afterward.

    ¡°Now it¡¯s enough.¡± The man buckles and gulps at me but nods anyway. I kick the Prince over to him. With the bleeding there¡¯s little time to waste fighting me.

    The spoils.

    What a scavenger you¡¯ve become. I roll my eyes at Nil and bother myself with snapping the necks of the Warrior-Mages still trapped under [Minor Illusion].

    Their equipment¡ªwhat Nil¡¯s hungry for¡ªisn¡¯t anything exemplary. There¡¯s a fine black coat bejeweled with gems that protect against minor debuffs, something Nil suffered against Lumina and Valery. I pick that up and discard the shredded dress in favor of rings, shirts, and trousers all enchanted with some kind of magic.

    Satisfied?

    Base. Body.

    Yes, a base to keep all our items, a place to work toward our goals. You¡¯ll get your turn eventually, but first let me set things up. Trust me in that at least.

    Nil doesn¡¯t have to say anything for me to know he doesn¡¯t trust a lick of what I¡¯ve said. Good, we¡¯ll need that paranoia where we¡¯re headed.

    You never much wanted to rule, did you? Too bad. If we¡¯re ever to become Gods¡­ if we¡¯re ever to get vengeance on Reinmer, Anera, and even Teir, we¡¯ll need kingdoms.

    Calridian. Vark. Queen of Ticks.

    All potential allies and enemies. You catch on quick, I forgot how much of a quick study you were.

    With the first battle won, we return to Lumina and find Valery and her men have made it at last. Now the fortifications begin, now the war begins. Except their war is just another battle in our ambition for a better world.

    We¡¯re going to make it, Nil. Trust me or not, I¡¯m going to make sure it happens. A perfect world, one without neglect, without injustice and the falsehoods of Gods.

    We¡¯ve already mothered the first inhabitants of this new world, thousands of years ago. With the Gods aware, we¡¯ll have to be careful, but now we know it¡¯s more than possible.

    And whoever gets in the way will kneel, one way or another.