“Hail, the Warlock Lord!” Art History, no, Francis exclaimed, waving his arm cheerily as DeSean and Lylothia left behind the deepest and darkest stretches of the forest. Everyone was there waiting with mixed reactions ranging from Mariah finding Francis annoying to Social Media, or Casey, seeming ready to burst with information she wanted to tell DeSean.

The warlock raised his hand to halt Casey from going into chatter-box mode. He gestured for everyone to move aside before pointing at the back of the suburban.

“It’s in there?”

“That… thing?” Mariah said, twisting her mouth into a grimace. “Our Most Hellish Majesty was doing weird demonic stuff in the back of the suburban with the icebox.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s where DeSean’s arm got left in,” Francis said.

“With ice, right?” Casey asked.

“Where, my dear, will we have found ice in the past couple of nights?” Francis shook his head dramatically as if he was part of a stage.

“You’re being more extra than usual,” DeSean said, picking up on the shifting group dynamics that had occurred without him. Would he even fit in with the group now? They seemed more… together… even when it was obvious they got under each other’s skin.

“Would it surprise you that I played the role of keeping Mariah from stabbing Dazzle’s neck,” Francis said with a sly smile.

“She ate the last grilled squirrel. I said that one was mine!”

“She said it when I was napping.” Dazzle shrugged. “Not my fault.”

The teenage firecracker glared at the early-twenties stoner, the latter ignoring the glares in favor of poking a random mushroom sprouting near the suburban’s tires.

“So, DeSean, Sergeant, our awesome, newly appointed Warlock Lord, we got serious, serious biz to talk about,” Casey said, swooping in as soon as she found an opening. She had to cut off poor Roberto who was trying to subtly catch DeSean’s attention for some reason. He’d have to speak with the kid later.

As for Casey…

“Give me a moment,” DeSean said.

“But, but, but,” she sputtered.

“A moment. Please.”

She moved away dejectedly, which made DeSean feel a little bad. Strange that, he wouldn’t have cared before. Hell, he shouldn’t now. He was now a super dark entity. He wasn’t even human anymore! But something about shoving Casey aside stung a little.

That didn’t stop him from putting his wants to the forefront. He flipped open the back of the suburban. In response to his motions or his presence, the thing inside the ice cooler knocked around. It was unable to free itself. The cooler was wrapped in strange scripted ribbons that gave off an infernal maroon glow and grayish ashy smoke.

Lylothia fell daintily onto the box with all the suave grace of a ruler of the Seventy-Two Hells. She swept her wings aside grandly, her doll-like red eyes boring into each one of her audience. Everyone had gathered behind DeSean, but his newly raised Focus gave him an accurate sense of the distance they warily put between them and the back of the suburban.

It was to the point that he could hear their hearts beat nervously.

DeSean didn’t blame them, the Hell Princess was stretching out the moment and building the suspense that came with an unhealthy dose of dread.

“The Warlock was once a foolish summoner,” she said, her voice carrying farther than her little body would suggest. It resonated around them, mighty and awe-inspiring. “In his foolishness, he’d underestimated the enemy and was severely harmed. Perhaps this would remain a folly he would have to endure for the rest of his days if the System and the Heavenly Lords and Ladies didn’t set their sights on your realm. But they have, bringing the likes of me with them.”

Everyone nodded along, including DeSean who was enraptured by Lylothia’s sense of the grandiose. Francis was just as amazed, if not even more since he was the first to close the gap and stand beside the warlock.

“So I come bearing a gift to not only reward this mortal’s continued faith and tributes for me but as a display of my commitment to his future and the journey he will undergo. Thus, I’ve taken from the flesh of the summoner to forge anew a wicked arm for the Warlock Lord!”

Lylothia swooped up and performed a loop de loop above their heads, adding to the grandness of the moment the bindings around icebox blasted off. Infernal scraps and glowing scriptures shot past their faces in a wave of dark red energy.

The lid slammed open. A dark, blurry shape lunged out, slammed against the suburban’s ceiling and latched on. The spell Lylothia had cast through mere words to hold their attention shattered. Francis ducked away with a yelp. Mariah pulled out a pair of knives while her brother hefted a club hewed from a thick branch.

DeSean held his ground, his eyes meeting the singular optical of the Crimson Limb-Grafting Parasite (Great Imp). It was like a naked centipede with all of its pointy legs situated in the back while the front held one big googly eye with a cat-like iris and a slobbering, tentacle-like mouth with tiny hooks at the tip of each wriggly feeler.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“It was not easy work, transmuting your arm into this creature,” voiced the Hell Princess. “These are not a common species from the Forty-First Disc, and I tend to reserve them for my best warriors who suffer limb losses that can’t be healed. But I tried with the little energy this fraction of my body can utilize. Without your tributes, this wouldn’t have been possible.”

“Then let’s seal the deal, Princess.”

“Extend the affected limb, Warlock, and become whole once more.”

DeSean did as told, and was given quite the surprise.

“You speak with the Crimson Forest Goddess, the Proud Warring Queen, the Gluttonous Winged Terror in a familiar tone,” hissed the limb parasite in the lesser infernal tongue. “What are you to speak with her in such a manner?”

“An investment,” DeSean answered, making good use of [Lesser Infernal Tongue of the Seventy-Two Hells]. “And you’re the same for me. So let us come to an understanding, under raining brimstone and blood fall, you obey me, the Warlock of the Proud Warring Queen, or I’ll tribute you to her.”

The limb parasite trembled under DeSean’s intense gaze, falling into a semblance of submission. The group whispered among themselves in awe or annoyance at the exchange between warlock and imp in the grating, teeth clacking, hissing, and very complex base language of the Seventy-Two Hells. Even as it was happening DeSean could hear how crazy it sounded to the uninitiated, which nearly gave him pause until he powered through, trusting the passive Skill would allow him to be fluent.

It did, which was miraculous even if it didn’t have direct combat capabilities.

Nonetheless, DeSean welcomed the limb parasite. It lunged from its place on the ceiling and latched onto the end of his nub below the elbow. The hooks on the ends of its feelers dug in with a vicious bite, tearing into toughened flesh with a gnawing hunger before embedding into the limb. Veins and arteries were forced open, made to connect with the fleshy wires that existed inside of the parasite.

There was coldness at first. Weakness, too. But that soon passed as DeSean gained control over the wriggling limb on the end of his left arm. The pointy legs shifted into five uncannily pointy and long digits. The grayish-red flesh of the centipede-like creature darkened until it was nearly similar to his skin color sans the red lines flowing down its length. The eye shifted around until it was looking out from the back of his forearm.

It twitched. It wriggled some more. Then it became fully under his control. It felt like he’d never lost it in the first place. Everything was back in place if people ignored how his fingers ended in insect-like points and the big googly eye.

DeSean turned around and showed off his new arm to the others.

“It’s ugly,” Mariah said right out of the gate.

“This one speaks with disrespect in her tone, Master Warlock,” said the parasite in Lesser Infernal.

“She’s a teenager. They were born that way. Forgive her for that,” DeSean replied in kind.

“Ah. What a pitiful condition, the teenager. Merciful of you to let her continue to serve despite her retardation.”

DeSean gave the limb parasite a tight-lipped smile while Mariah glared at them both. Francis brushed past her to give DeSean’s arm a curious look.

“It won’t bite, will it?” he asked.

“Unless I want it to,” DeSean answered. “It’ll be good. I swear.”

“Congrats on getting the new arm, Sergeant,” Dazzle said, her hands cupped under a patch of dirt holding a single mushroom.

Clearly, he wasn’t the only one up to strange business.

DeSean found Lylothia surveying them from on top of the suburban and gave her a thankful and respectful nod. She nodded in return and left it at that.

“All right everyone, let me go on and say…” he hesitated slightly, grasping for the right words. He wasn’t the motivating speaker type, that was Quinton, but he wanted to say something since these people waited on him. “Uh, thanks.”

“We don’t need your thanks, we need to know what to do next?” Mariah spat.

“Sis, stop,” Roberto groaned.

Before the siblings broke into an argument, DeSean stepped in between them. He did so at a speed he’d never thought was possible before, stirring a strong gust that swept past them. The only person who reacted faster was Mariah who probably had a few more points in Agility than him.

She still got caught off guard when he placed his right hand on her shoulder. His left stayed at his side. He was still mindful that others might not appreciate getting touched by a talking demonic arm.

“Look, I know you’re revving for action,” DeSean said, cooling Mariah down right before she ripped away. “I would be, too. You and me, we’re kind of got the same edge to us. So listen to me when I say… you will have your goblet of blood and more.”

Mariah stilled. She licked her chapped lips, her eyes wavering under his gaze. Then she looked down.

“I just don’t like standing around anymore. I can fight. I can make a difference. But it sounds like the world is going to shit, and there’s nothing I can do.”

Roberto grabbed his sister’s hand. “Our grandma is one of them, and….” He gave Mariah a look seeking permission.

The teenager shook her head subtly and shrugged DeSean’s handoff. “We need to get going before things get worse again.”

The warlock took no offense. The girl had a raging fire in her that wanted to be fed. The boy was both tough physically and in spirit. He got a sense that Roberto looked out for Mariah as much as the older sister claimed to look out for her brother.

“DeSean,” Casey called. “I can’t keep it in me anymore. I got so much to share. But even before we get into that whole whopper of a mess of getting to the Chaos Zone, I’ve been wanting to say something.”

“What?”

“Mariah and Roberto can select their Main Paths!” she squealed, making everyone wince at once. Sometimes too much Focus could be a detriment if it wasn’t regulated.

DeSean leveled his gaze on the two siblings.

“What if it takes too long?” Mariah asked. “You took two nights!”

“I’m scared,” Roberto said.

“It will only take an hour at most,” Lylothia answered. “And the process is harmless for the Chaos Marked. I told them this but they didn’t believe me.”

“Our apologies princess, but we weren’t sure if Sergeant would make it back to us,” Francis said to placate the obviously upset Hell Princess.

“Well, I’m here now, and I trust Lylothia on this.” DeSean glanced up at the bright sky and the accursed sun crawling across it. “We have time. We won’t be able to strike until sunset, anyway.”

“Why then?” Casey asked.

“There’s enough light out for us to see clearly and plenty of dark shadows for me to control.” DeSean smiled. “So, Roberto. Mariah. Go on and select your paths. We could use the extra power you’ll get from it. Casey, Francis, Dazzle, fill me in on what I need to know.”

“He’s using our first names,” Dazzle droned.

“He seems more personable than before, too,” Francis noted. “If you look past the horns, claws, and evil arm, there’s a certain charm to him now.”

“Who would’ve thought being the Warlock Lord would make you become all snazzy.” Casey gave him thumbs up. “I can really get into this new you, Sergeant.”

A chuckle escaped DeSean. “We’ll see how you feel when I start melting people again.”