William counted eight lesser demons. Not the most intelligent bunch, nor the hardest to see in the dim light of his blade, but William had never fought this many demons at once before, and it had been a long time since he’d felt this winded this quickly.

He breathed deep, filling his lungs with misty subterranean air as he readied himself. The serfs charged at him in a disorganized mob of muscles, wing, fang, and claw, and he raced to meet them.

Out of habit, he called a skill. “Divine Arc!” The skill did not come as called, nor would it again, but he did not dismay. His arms did not move on their own, nor was the effort lessened, nor did he feel the light of the divine power him forward.

But Gram sang all the same.

He weaved under the fumbling blow of the first wretch, throwing his might into the legendary blade that glowed with conviction, and tore through the monster’s torso like paper, following through into the hapless demon behind him. The third reached for him with both arms, which he sidestepped, throwing a lethal slash at the creature’s neck.

The skill hadn’t activated, but as William had learned, that was only an inconvenience. It gave him an attack, but how many times had he used it? Five thousand times? Ten? Twenty? He had known the skill, performed its movements so many times, that it had become ingrained in his very being.

The Tri System had taught him, honed him, even somewhat enhanced him. It wasn’t with him anymore, but he had learned its forms all the time.

He weaved through the demons, powering through the motions with his body alone, bringing Gram down upon the demon serfs one after another, until only one was left.

He held his sword to the final one’s throat. “If you can talk, I might be able to spare you,” he said.

The demon spat at him. Just then, William heard whirring and clanging. He turned toward the noise, only to see a glint of metal shoot out of the mist. It collided with his sword, knocking it away, but causing it to slit the demon’s throat. The large object collided with the wall, ricocheting twice before sailing back to where it came from.

Tap-taptap. Tap-taptap.

Footsteps in the dark. The paladin leveled his blade at the noise. “You missed. Identify yourself.”

“Apologies for the subpar welcome, little hero,” a deep voice answered warmly. “And on the contrary, I hit precisely what I was always going to hit. I do wish we could put our best foot forward instead of such… vermin.”

He emerged from the mist, but William could hardly make him out. He could only see the silhouette of a tall, winged humanoid, crimson eyes peering at him through the darkness; two dignified horns protruded from his skull. He wore a pearly smile of shark-like, razor sharp teeth and carried a cane in one hand and a bloodstained chakram in the other.

This was no lesser monster. This was a greater demon of the underworld.

“You would kill your own kind? Why?”

The demon kept smiling and approached no further. “You slew a boar on your way here. You butchered it and kept parts of its carcass in your pack. As a creature born of flesh, is that not your own kind? Do the nations of the surface world live united in comradery and friendship?”

A chill ran down William’s spine. He’d expect a Wolven to be able to smell that on him, but not a demon. How did he know? Had he been followed? “That is not the same.”

“Isn’t it? Those below the rank of Baron are of no more intelligent or of worth than an animal. You war unabashedly against other mortals. Is it so strange that one demon should strike down another, Sir William?”

“You’re awfully chatty for a demon,” William observed. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

“In more ways than one,” the monster chuckled. He placed a hand on his chest. “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Marquis Laplace.”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

William leapt to retreat in a heartbeat, and in another the demon’s chakram whizzed past him, forcing him to veer to the side as it ricocheted off the wall. He had to run from this fight: system or no, this was no lesser demon, this was the Devil of Fate himself! What was he doing in De Sade’s territory?!

The human tried to make a break for it once more, starting back the way he came, only for the flying blade to cut across his path once more, forcing him to leap up. Clang clang! Once again, the weapon found itself headed straight for him. He blocked it with his shield, the spinning chakram scarring its face with a hideous metallic shriek before being deflected to the ceiling. It bounced off and soared straight back to Laplace, who raised his cane and caught it in the center.

William kicked off the wall, jumping away once more, but with the flick of his wrist the lesser god sent his weapon right back in, closing the path as it ricocheted madly along the exit route.

The hero’s mind whirled. How was he doing that? It was like the weapon had a mind of his own, cutting off every attempt at escape. Was he controlling it?

Regardless, if he couldn’t retreat, he’d have to fight. Laplace had disarmed himself. He leapt at the demon, Gram raised high. The deadly discus was still behind him, and he was closing the distance fast, but something wasn’t right. It wasn’t until he was upon him that he heard it over the clanging of metal on rock: the demon was humming.

“Ecliptic Path!” he called, only to hear Laplace say the same, their voices matching in perfect harmonic resonance.

He brought Gram down in a brutal horizontal arc, its magical light trailing behind it, only to miss his mark entirely. The demon hadn’t darted out of the way, he’d only ducked the blow. William brought up his sword, aiming a thrust at the demon’s heart, only for him to pivot back on his right foot, dodging it completely. A transition to a horizontal cut did no better, as the demon leaned back, and the weapon swished a hair short of his neck.

A whirring sound came from behind, and William ducked the speeding chakram. Laplace caught it with his cane, and with the other hand he grabbed Gram by the blade. “That is a fine sword, but I fear you’ve mistaken us for our reptilian cousins,” he said. He tossed the sword aside, throwing the human off balance. “It’s rude to leave without a word, you know. If I wanted you dead, you would be.” His tone remained jovial, friendly even.

William shifted into a low guard, gritting his teeth. That entire fight was a game to the Demon Marquis. He’d been toying with him the entire time. “What do you want then?”

“Why, to give you what you came here for: information.”

“How would you know what I’m looking for?”

Laplace laughed. “Come now, Sir William, I don’t need my powers to know that. Nearly every person on, above, and beneath the Earth is wondering the same thing: what happened to the system?”

William relaxed his guard, but only slightly. “And you wouldn’t be one of them.”

He replied with a toothy grin. “The God of Fire has recently failed a campaign to the surface world, but he did take certain spoils of war. In turn, he traded a number them to the God of Cruelty. The goods in question are in transit in a nullstone carriage at the front of a caravan. You’ll be interested in the contents. Waylay it, and you’ll have your answers. Eventually.”

The paladin scoffed. “Goods, huh?” he sneered at the euphemism.

Greater demons traded like any other intelligent species. They had a penchant for using magic contracts due to their violent proclivities necessitating them, but even for them most of their transactions were mundane. Stone, metal, wood, labor, food, water, and the like. Nothing William would be interested in. No, there’s only one thing he’d be interested in that they would need a nullstone carriage for.

Laplace chuckled. “Sentients. There’s no telling what they’ll be used for in De Sade’s domain, but they will be helpful in leading you to the answers you seek.”

“And what do you get out of this?” Sir William demanded. “I take it you’re not the culprits then, but why tell me this and not simply tell me what happened to the system? If you’re trying to move against your rivals, why not do so yourself?”

The Devil shook his head. “Ah, you humans. So clever and yet so short-sighted. Always seeing the world with the notion of free will,” the demon mused. He stepped forward, towering over the mortal before leaning down to speak. “You think me a puppet master holding the controller, but we are all fate’s marionettes. I simply see its strings.

“I tell you this because I was always meant to tell you this. I never had any choice in the matter to begin with. That is fate, and those who can defy it are few and far between. And with that, I bid you farewell.”

With that, he straightened back to his full height, turned around, and walked away, disappearing into the mist. His parting words echoed through the cavern.

“Twenty-seven hours and three minutes! Back the way you came. Thirty-seventh left, eighteenth right, up one floor, forward, and the sixteenth intersection!”

And then, silence.

William stood in a relaxed guard, wrestling with his intuition for a time. It took him a day to get here. He didn’t have time to get back and relay this to the Captain General.

Was he really going to do this? Just do what a Devil told him to do, and move against two more, without any orders? The very notion left a vile taste in his mouth.

But if he didn’t, he’d be going against orders to find information on the end of the system. Not only that, but he’d be leaving captives in the hands of the demons, not out of ignorance or inability, but out of petty spite. That was inexcusable.

He grit his teeth. “God damn him!” he cursed.

Vile or not, he had a job to do.