Eastside Bond Apartments, Pittsburgh - 8:58 PM
Deep inside the building in an open air courtyard, Greg was surrounded by a platoon of other players, and I made my way towards them. Based on their auras, everyone aside from the Guildmaster was in bad shape. There weren’t any bodies so they hadn’t lost anyone, but the battle had clearly not been kind to them. That didn’t matter, I was only after one person.
I watched as Greg’s aura slowly changed from its normal, wispy state to something more erratic. Confusion, then anxiety, then fear. He stared up at the sky as if he didn’t want to believe whatever his Patron was surely telling him, and then he focused on my direction. Just as he seemed ready to flee, I made my way into the atrium.
Most of the people were resting on the ground around a frozen pool. They were out of breath and barely reacted to me, though I did receive a few curious glances. My assessment had been right; not a single person came back to the surface without heavy wounds except for Greg. He stood on the ice, and I met his eyes after looking him over.
His hole-covered armor was gone, replaced by a long coat that constantly released a haze from it. Whatever he wore underneath it was probably magical, as well. A bandanna covered his head, and he had an assortment of rings on the fingers of his remaining hand. His stump was covered with some kind of metal cap, though it didn’t seem like magical gear to me.
In the building all around us, there was smoke. It seemed to be creating a solid wall between us and the outside, but I knew it wouldn’t hinder Greg. His abilities were now at the same level as mine and his stats likely were, too. I had been asleep for too long.
“Anthony!” he greeted, trying to hide his nervousness. “I'm glad to see you soon against that detectable-”
Olivia’s head appeared in my hand as I mentally retrieved it from my inventory, and I tossed it. I watched as Greg’s eyes widened as he tracked it flying through the air. Black blood splattered on the snow underneath its arc. I Lifted it just as it was about to hit the ice, giving it a soft landing, and let it slide until it hit the smoker’s foot.
He stared at it with wide eyes.
“Who here was with Greg and Olivia in the Pitt before her disappearance?” I demanded, taking my eyes off of the smoker to look around.
“You’re the bastard who killed Olivia!” one of the men shouted. Others started to join him.
Instead of responding, I sent out a pulse of my Tyrant’s Will. The shouts were immediately quelled as the group of fighters shivered. Two of them bolted, attempting to flee only to be stopped by Greg’s smoke wall. They stood there, staring, wanting to escape but knowing better than to cross the threshold into the blinding mist.
“Once more,” I called. “Who saw Greg give Olivia to Pustibule?”
“What an absurd sentence,” Greg barked. He seemed to be getting his nerve back now that his wall was nearly finished. “What even is a Pustibule? Stop making up words, Anthony!”
Raising my hand, I summoned Olivia’s Demonic body from my inventory. The thin, headless form had two small, malformed hands come out of the middle of its torso. Dozens of spindly legs dangled freely towards the ground, making it look like I was holding some kind of weird, messed up broom. This, too, freely bled.
“Greg Davis, there is none here who have seen your deeds, but that won’t stop my judgment,” I announced.
“You clearly did this!” he loudly accused. “You killed Olivia after turning her into some kind of monster!”
“Are you saying that I turned her into a Demon, Greg?” I asked, keeping my voice even.
“That’s the only explanation for this sick act!” he screamed, seeming to get over his nervousness as he saw his men take up arms. Though they were confused, they were loyal. “Everyone, get ready to cut this freak down!”
I cast my gaze over the others, watching as they prepared themselves for battle out of loyalty and camaraderie. If it were to anyone other than Greg, I would have been impressed. Not this time, though. Not today.
My voice thrummed with power. “B̶r̸e̶a̷k̷ ̸fr̶e̷e̷ F̷r̸o̶m̸ ̵T̸h̴e̵ ̶S̵h̷a̶c̸k̵l̸e̴s̴ ̸O̴f̷ ̶M̸a̴n̸!”
I transformed, becoming antithetical to everything Demonic and showing my true colors. Lifting myself off of the ground with my wings, I hit everyone in the area with my new Peacekeeper’s Will for the first time. The only exception was Greg, and I activated Tyrant's Will in tandem to keep him sweating.
<<<>>>
[[Skill]]
Peacekeeper’s Will
You can ease tension with a glance. By looking into another’s eyes and paying a low cost of Mental Points, you can instill a feeling of peace and serenity in them based on the difference between your Willpower stat and their defensive mental stat. If they do not have a defensive mental stat, their resistance depends on their highest stat divided by 2. At a higher cost, you can project Peacekeeper’s Will as an aura that affects everyone inside a radius as far out as one foot per point of Willpower.
<<<>>>
The group as a whole took a step back as I revealed my true form. Some started kneeling, others began praying, most stared with open mouths. None resisted my forced peace. One stepped forward.
“I was there!” yelled a man in dark tactical gear wielding a silver assault rifle. “I saw him negotiate with the Demon!”
“Shut up, Brett!” Greg growled, though he didn’t dare take his eyes off of me. He made a small motion that I knew was to open his inventory, but I let this play out despite his actions and the cost to me. It had to happen.
“I can’t lie to an Angel, Greg!” Brett practically screeched, turning to face his boss. “You got invited to that place-”
“He’s not a real Angel!!”
“- by that Jeremiah guy and-”
“Shut your mouth, Brett!” Greg screeched, taking an angry step towards the other man.
“-talked to the Demon!” the gunner continued anyway. “You even congratulated yourself for playing both sides.”
“You’re a goddamn liar and a traitor to the crew!”
Brett scowled. “When Olivia protested, you gave her up, saying she shouldn’t-”
A plume of smoke violently emerged from the windows closest to Brett, shattering the glass and breaking the metal casing. Shrapnel hit those surrounding the gunner as the cloud headed straight for him. I took a step forward.
Reappearing next to the man with Fae Step, I shoved him to safety and ascended into the air. The smoke nearly caught my foot on the way up.
With a flick of my wrist, I summoned the Scalpel of Angelic Healing from In The Palm and activated the Demon Slayer skill. The small tool changed in an instant, expanding into a wing-shaped sword with a halo crossguard. I didn’t think Greg had let himself go through with Demonification, but Olivia’s body would still have enough energy to allow me this.
“Greg Davis,” I called as I released my aura of peace and leaned into my Angelic appearance. “For crimes against humanity and those who pledged themselves to your service, I am here to render divine judgment.”
Sweating from the constant despair aura I was forcing on him, Greg wiped his forehead before pulling out a golden cigar from his inventory. This was one of the special ones I had directed him to, and it was already lit. As much fun as he must have had ordering someone as powerful as Olivia to perform small tasks, it seemed he had learned his lesson about going into battle unprepared.
Greg put the cigar to his mouth and took a drag, desperate to take in as much smoke as he could. The temptation to Bend it and break it was strong, but I let him.
“I really was going to let you be, Greg, if you had taken Heaven’s side,” I announced. “But your ego got in your way like it always did. If I hadn’t stopped Pustibule’s plans, then the people of Pittsburgh would have all turned into something like Olivia.”
“That’s impossible!” Greg snapped, smoke falling from his mouth like a waterfall. “You don’t know jack shit, you false Angel!”
“You lie as easily as you breathe,” I said before looking at everyone else. “Leave the Greg Davis Crew. Find new guilds to join that don't have a leader that will sacrifice you at the earliest convenience. That's my advice for you all.”
Even without Peacekeeper’s Will active, the Greg Davis Crew didn’t look like they wanted to fight me. In fact, the vast majority were staring daggers at their Guildmaster. Not only because of my words, but because of Brett taking a stand and his subsequent treatment.
“Fuck you!” Greg yelled before raising his hand and flipping me off.
The pillar of smoke that had remained underneath me flexed and rose up. It attempted to grab my feet as the rest of the glass in the atrium exploded inward. The only one who was safe from it was Greg.
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I activated Shield as I shot forward. Flying downwards, I dove towards Greg when a wall of smoke emerged from his mouth.
This one didn’t turn into the giant that he liked to use before I went to sleep, but solidified around him as a barrier. Twisting, I put my sword in front of me. When I collided with the smoke, I broke through despite the resistance.
The scalpel was carefully aimed, and I had planned on taking off his remaining hand. It wasn’t meant to be. The last time we fought he had mistimed a skill that froze him and made him immune to damage for a split second, but he had obviously gotten better at using it. The scalpel broke through his defensive cloud to tear his clothes but didn’t break the skin, and I had to stop myself before it pierced the ice.
Smoke rushed in from all around us while Greg backpedaled in panic. In less than a second I had conjured four large fans strategically placed around us. I began Spinning them the moment they finished forming, and the smoke struggled to push against the sudden wind. The mist around us was sucked away.
His escape route cut off by spinning blades of death, Greg roared. “You can’t do this to me! I’m going to be the king of Pittsburgh!”
“Were,” I corrected. “You were.”
Greg retrieved another item from his inventory. I saw that it wasn’t his old baseball bat but a sawed-off shotgun. Before he could point it at me, I reached out and grabbed the barrel.
It went off as I pointed it towards the sky, and my hand would have burned if it weren’t for my glove. A current of pain went through me, likely from some other skill or passive, but I ignored it. It wasn’t any worse than other things I had gone through recently.
“I find this battlefield fitting,” I said loudly as I headbutted Greg in the nose. He released the shotgun to grab it, swearing, and I tossed it away. “In Dante’s Inferno, Cocytus is a frozen lake that marks the last circle of Hell. Now, we are fighting over a frozen pool. Do you know the type of people who end up there?”
With another scream of fear and frustration, Greg blew smoke onto his arm. It coalesced into the form of a disembodied hand that stayed just under his stump, acting as a cloudy prosthetic. Next, he retrieved a longsword from his inventory.
Once he realized that I wasn’t planning on shoving him into one of the fan blades, he figured fighting was his only choice. He was right about that, but was entirely too optimistic about the outcome.
Some of the smoke started to make it through, mostly from above, and I let it. So long as I didn’t let him gather enough to fully trap me, I was okay. The Death Mist wasn’t going to blind me now that I was blessed with Absolute Awareness. I parried his sword with my own.
“Betrayers, Greg. The frozen lake was for the betrayers, traitors, and Judas of the world,” I informed. “You, in particular, would be sent to Antenora, where those who betrayed their party or country were punished by being submerged in ice, as all were in Cocytus.”
“What the fuck are-” Greg’s eyes suddenly widened as he glanced down at the frozen pool underneath us. “No!”
The Guildmaster redoubled his efforts to hit me. His Strength was higher than mine even with the boost I received from Break Free, but he didn’t have any of my skill or finesse. I let him push me back in a circle between the fans, but any time he tried to flee or break them I would parry and prevent it.
Tendrils of smoke started to cling to me, especially my face. They pulled, but didn’t have enough mass to truly hinder me. Everyone else in the atrium had been forced to the ground by the sheer amount of pressure the cloud was putting out, but they seemed safe enough when I checked their auras.
“Yes. This is the end you deserve,” I said, remaining loud enough that all can hear. “It will be neither swift nor merciful.”
“You can’t do this to me!” he shouted. “I’m Greg Fucking Davis! I’m the best here in Pittsburgh!”
He raised his sword and brought it down hard, and I felt the ice crack underneath when I blocked. In the corner of my vision, the smoke started pushing back against the fans with an intensity matched only by my opponent’s panic. That would have to go.
“No. You’re perhaps the smallest man I’ve ever known,” I returned, causing his face to turn an entirely new shade of red from fear and anger.
I continued to parry and position as the enemy’s wall closed in on us like a coffin. Inside of my head, one of my trump cards was activating. It wasn’t for him, but for the smoke. Opening my mouth, a beam of golden light spilled out over Greg’s shoulder.
<<<>>>
[[Skill]]
Dragon’s Breath
Gather energy in your mouth and open it to unleash your fury. This skill allows you to convert Mental Points into pure elemental damage based on your stat total. As a Half-Angel, your breath weapon is infused with the Holy property. You may concentrate the beam of energy or cause it to widen, altering the damage output accordingly.
Activating Dragon’s Breath takes 2 seconds and costs 180 Mental Points. Extended use of this skill drains 18 Mental Points per second.
Notice: the Heavenly Hero passive decreases the cost of this skill by 10%. This deduction has already been factored into the description.
<<<>>>
As the breath weapon cut through the smoke around us, I was reminded of the time I used it against the Thistle Hag. Her necromantic flames had popped out of existence from just being near the beam. Greg’s smoke, now that he was the avatar of Achlys, worked much the same way. The death energy pervading the mist was anathema to the holy energy I was outputting. At my level, I was perfectly capable of disintegrating the smoke.
I spun in a circle, letting my constructed fans fade one by one as I destroyed the sea of clouds pressuring the guild members as well as most of the building. Greg continued to swing on me, but well placed blocks, Force Fields and my Shield ability stopped the blows. I was careful not to hit any of the bystanders. While some of them may have been complicit in Olivia’s fate, I only cared about their boss.
Once the smoke was clear, I turned to face Greg. He reached into his inventory and pulled out another lit golden cigar. I Bent it, breaking it before he could pull it to his lips, and he stared at it dumbly. The others started rising to their feet.
“Guildmaster Greg Davis,” I announced as I swung my sword. Whether it was in shock, defeat, or lack of skill, his focus was gone. His natural hand and weapon flew away, sliding to a stop near the corner of the atrium. I returned my scalpel to its original form and put it back into the small pocket dimension as he doubled over, clutching his new stump to his chest. “The judgment is set, and your sentence will begin immediately. Your sins will not be forgiven.”
“Wait, wait!” he yelled, pain and panic evident in his voice, eyes, and aura. “Mercy! Please! I was tricked by that Demon, tricked! Give me a second chance!”
Pausing, I regarded the man who hadn’t even gotten on his knees to beg. “Tricked," I repeated. "Do you really believe you deserve one?”
Greg nodded vigorously.
“On your knees.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second before doing so, and I could feel defiance welling up in his aura.
I smiled at him. From the look on his face, he immediately knew that this was not a gentle gesture. “No.”
As Greg’s panic was replaced by outrage, I raised my foot and slammed it down on the ice beneath us. It was already cracked from our skirmish, but now it shattered. I used Drop on the other man with all four uses of Split at my disposal. He attempted to grab me, to pull me down with him, but I flew backwards out of his reach.
The moment he was submerged, I retrieved the Endless Smoker from my inventory and filled it with ice. The mist it began releasing was colder than the air around us, and I used it to refreeze the top layer of the pool.
I could see and feel Greg as he struggled, trying his hardest not to breath in the water, but felt nothing for him. There was nothing to feel. He gave up the one person who was most loyal to him even when she was treated like shit the entire time. The fact that his death would fit his crime was nothing but a coincidence.
No one interrupted my work as I repaired the ice, making it thicker by going around the pool several times. Someone could break through it if they really tried, but I gave Greg no chance to succeed as I continued to use Drop on him in the deep end. Blood stained the water around him as he tried, and failed, to figure out how to open his menu without hands.
The bottom of the pool started to crack from the force of his struggle, but it wasn’t long now. Even with a heightened Constitution, he was losing this fight as he ran out of air and the cold sapped his strength.
Just when the Endless Smoker ran out of ice and started emitting regular smoke, I received the notification I was waiting for.
<<<>>>
[[Victory!]]
You have murdered Guildmaster [Greg Davis]; +1,241 points
[[Victory!]]
You have slain the Guildmaster of [Sol Ligatus]’s sworn enemy. Without a Deputy Guildmaster, the guild you’re at war with will come to an end.
[The Greg Davis Crew] will be forcibly disbanded in 10 minutes. The guildhall is too far away to receive guild points.
Reward: 2,000 points.
<<<>>>
“Not that I’m happy about this outcome,” I muttered as I put the Endless Smoker into my inventory.
Dropping Break Free and returning to my normal form, I checked my status to see that I had a hundred Mental Points available and my Medallion of the Warmind Uuska was still full. Plenty of resources in case anyone else wanted to try me.
I looked around, seeing the mixed reactions in the crowd surrounding me. “Does anyone have any grievance with what I’ve done here today?” I asked. Only a few seemed to consider my words, the others too shocked at either Greg’s death, what he had done to Olivia, or how he flattened them to protect himself. Many seemed to be blinking the Death Mist out of their eyes. “No? Good, then I’m leaving Pittsburgh.”
When I turned to leave through the door I came in from, somebody spoke up. “What are we supposed to do now?”
“I already told you. Find better people to work with, not for,” I said without stopping. “Stop being sycophants and find your own way. Do good things, kill Demons, and do right by your community. How you do that is up to you.”
“Is that it?” Brett called. “Do right?”
That made me stop, and I turned around and looked at him. “You, in particular,” I said, acid in my tone. “Do better.”
Brett nodded slowly. He understood.
Silence followed me, and I left. I was sure that the transportation hub was up and active by now, and I had a train to catch. A series of messages popped up while I ran.
<<<>>>
[[Notice]]
The Patron [Dhumavati] thanks you for avenging her avatar.
[[Notice]]
The Patron [Achlys] admits they underestimated you.
[[Notice]]
The Patron [Achlys] has extended a Patron Pact to you. If you so choose to accept, benefits befitting an avatar of [Achlys] will appear to you.
<<<>>>
“No,” I said firmly, looking at the sky. “Sorry, but even if my Patron left me, it’s only temporary. My advice is to find better people in Pittsburgh. There should be a big class to choose from after my guild trained them up.”
There was no response, but that was fine. I continued running through the snowy streets of Pittsburgh, ready to leave this city and its sour memories behind.