The angel lifted his head. He blinked up at the yellow-green clouds covering the sky. His brow knitted, as if he did not understand what happened. Lawrence closed his journal with a snap. The sound made the angel’s head whip. They stared at each other for a long moment. Then the angel jumped.
It leapt to its feet. It brandished a sword of silvery, glittering metal and a round shield.
“Who are you?” the angel demanded.
“My name is Lawrence.” Lawrence did not move. He sat on a chunk of ice a little way up the slope, keeping a respectful distance. “May I have your name, sir?”
“You may not, but I will tell you my name. My name is Auriel.” The angel swished its sword. “Where are we? What species are you, creature? You are like no Man I have ever met.”
“It’s refreshing to be called an adult by an adult,” Lawrence said. Louder, he shook his head and added, “Okay. We are in Hell. There’s an army of demons a few hills over. I was heading in that direction, I know some mortals who should—are there. A woman soldier and a girl about my age. I’m a Half-Demon. My dad was mortal, my mom was a demoness. I’m just trying to survive.”
“What Job do you have?” the angel demanded.
Lawrence looked away. “I am a Faustian and Half-Demon. Uh, Adventurer and Species. I’m a corrupt half-demon, which means my Infernal Corruption is over fifty. In other words, if I give my word, then break it, I could die.”
“Will you give me your word you will make no attempt on my life?” Auriel raised its weapon.
Lawrence met the angel’s eyes. The angel had black hair falling past his shoulders. He wore no shirt, only a great flowing skirt of mail, which tinkled like a curtain of chains with every step, because that’s pretty much what it was. Beneath the chains Lawrence saw a set of black modesty shorts. The angel’s face consisted of a square jaw and two golden eyes shining with all the radiance of the sun. He was androgynous, but male.
“I’ve never met an angel before,” Lawrence said to himself. The angel’s body was a wall of muscle. He was not a bodybuilder, he was a strongman. He looked fat, but his skin was not flabby nor did it move. He had the kind of body used to lifting pieces of concrete instead of weights.
“I need an answer, Man.”
“I give you my word,” Lawrence used the contract voice. “As long as you are my friend and ally and still alive, I will make no attempt on your life, I will make no attempt to harm you, I will make no attempt to deceive or mislead you, and I will make no attempt to lie to you. I swear a fifty-strength Contract.”
“Why not a one-hundred strength contract?” Auriel did not lower the sword.
“There’s a mercenary company that asked me to join. One of their rules is not swearing any Contracts greater than strength-fifty, I think. They also have to Contract with at least two of their friends, as protection against betrayal. Strength-fifty is considered a greater debt. Strength-one-hundred is like selling your soul.”
“You’re a mercenary?” Auriel’s voice dripped with venom. “Fighting others for money is even worse than banditry. You disgust me.”
Lawrence raised his eyebrows.
“I’m not officially a member, I never formally joined or anything. I’m between jobs right now and I was keeping my options open.” He paused when the angel did not react. “I’ve also just Contracted myself to you, and you didn’t Contract the same with me. I’ve just made myself vulnerable to you. You could kill me right now, and I can’t stop you,” Lawrence pointed out.
“Hmm.” The sword’s tip lowered. “I suppose you are correct. Though you are wrong about one thing, Man. I am not an angel. I am a Sky Elf.”
“Human body, medieval weapons, big white wings.” Lawrence looked at the wings. They were thirty feet long, but folded and curled up small. They needed to be big to lift the angel’s heavy body. Lawrence doubted some vague concepts like air bladders and hollow bones would keep Auriel in the air. Magic, more likely.
“These are the ancestral weapons of my people," Auriel gestured. "I have an elvish body because I am an elf, just as you are part Man and part Abomination.”
Lawrence leaned his head back. Hurt and anger wormed through his gut. He tried to think of something smart to say, but his wit failed.
“My wings are part of who we are,” Auriel continued. “I am a level 1 Sky Elf. The Lethe Clouds have wiped my memory, but not my purpose. I have come to smite the armies of darkness and earn great honor for my kinsmen. As an abomination yourself, your life is now forfeit. Do you have any final words, fell creature?”
The sword rose again.
“You’re going to kill me?” Lawrence gaped. He half-rose, wondering if he should flee or if fleeing was even an option. The angel could fly. “I’m only fifteen. Is it lawful for a Sky Elf to kill a minor?”
“You’re only a boy?” the angel frowned. “How did you come to be here? Why are you here?”
“It’s a long, boring story. The short version is I’m here, and I’m just trying to stay alive.”
Auriel hesitated. Lawrence saw it.
“There it is,” a reedy voice screamed.
Lawrence and Auriel looked up. An avian stood on the lip of the crater. It was the size of a dog. It had a gut, indicating the Skill Gross Flesh, thus a member of the Gluttonous. An obese drone lumbered up next to it.
“Master,” the bird wheedled. “It is a level 1 Angel. You should adopt it and keep it as a pet.”
The drone stomped the bird flat. Nasty-looking demonic ichor spilled over the ground. A dozen smaller avians and imps flew forward in a cloud, whispering their own Suggestions.
“For the Light,” Auriel roared. He raised his sword. White, holy fire—Lawrence’s eyes widened—coursed the weapon’s length.
“Kill the angel,” the demon gestured. A horde of imps and a few fiends flew past it and into the crater.
Auriel flapped his wings once. He rocketed straight up. He passed the cloud of demons, slashing, and soared into the sky. An imp fell. The swarm of demons slowed to change course. Auriel fell on them from above. Body parts and ichor rained. The drone’s mouth fell open. In under a minute, Auriel hovered in the air above the crater, wings slowly flapping, sword raised, alone.
The drone turned to run, and ran itself onto a black blade. Ichor spilled out its back. The drone fell to its knees.
“Failure,” the giant grumbled. It ripped its rectangular weapon out sideways, less a weapon than a slab of sharp metal with a crude handle. The giant had Stone Armor, but still looked somewhat humanoid. It stood over nine feet tall, more than a foot taller than the Sky Elf. “You look delicious. Come on, boys. Open fire.”
The giant windmilled its arm. Lawrence jammed his thumbs in his ears as firearms shot. Shards of bone and globs of acid filled the air. The Sky Elf made a cocoon out of its wings. Golden ichor spray the ground where the hell-forged weapons hit.
The Sky Elf flashed once with silver light. It healed all the damage in an instant.
“Level 2, whoop WHOOP.” The Sky Elf flapped. He rocketed skyward, then inverted into a dive and flew past the giant.
Lawrence heard screams. He remained motionless and quiet the entire time, and he was rewarded by the demons ignoring him. He crept back up the side of the crater. Opposite, he saw the Sky Elf fighting an army. Fighting, and leveling.
The giant entered the fray. The demon’s black blade and the Sky Elf’s silver met in a clash of white holy and greenish-black hellfire. Lawrence grinned. He wished he had some popcorn. Though the Sky Elf was low level, it was able to match the higher-leveled demons blow for blow. And its rapid level gain kept its health topped.
“[Holy Light],” Auriel cried. “[Summon Sky Elf Army].”
More than twenty shining, golden ghosts appeared. They had wings, weapons. They fell on the demons like professional soldiers on an army of barbarians. More demons charged across the ground from the direction of the explosions. An airship descended.
Lawrence stared. The airship was an Age of Sail model. It had a wooden hull reinforced with actual iron. But the resemblance stopped there. This ship had sails on the sides and bottom. Its hull bristled with magitech cannons. It did not bother turning sideways to do a broadside. It fired the bow guns straight on. Balls of lightning arced through the air. The Sky Elf dodged.
Lawrence hunkered. The elf danced in the sky as lightning fell around him. When it was over, he descended to the ground, tired. The giant reengaged.
Lawrence pulled his robes from his bag of holding. Staying low, he tugged the woolen garments over his shoulders. They reminded him of a graduation gown, but lacked the zipper. Fitting, given Nimue’s Tower tried to model a monastic school in form if not function, and the wool helped stave off Tempest’s chill.
“All at once,” the giant bellowed. “Everyone attack.”
The airship’s guns spat. The remaining fiends breathed hellfire bombs. The giant’s weapon blurred. Auriel’s body blurred as he dodged and deflected. A Skill for a Skill. Lawrence wondered how he tasted.
The Sky Elf leveled up. A corona of holy fire surrounded him. Every demon with five feet of him burst into flame. The giant held off for a bit, until the elf got a lucky critical hit. The giant lost part of its weapon arm, half its muscle severed halfway past its elbow.
“Surrender,” the elf shouted.
The demon backed away. The elf took off for the airship. Guns and rifles boomed and cracked across the sky. The ship turned west back to the dungeon. Off in the distance, Lawrence saw a camp of hundreds. Airships from multiple corporations anchored around it. One by one, their sails unfurled. Their rose off the ground, noses pointing east. They launched. The elf moved to intercept.
Lawrence slowly approached the giant from behind. Thirty feet away, it turned and looked straight at him.
“Come out, mortal. I see you. What are you? Whom do you serve?”
Lawrence straightened. He bared his many sharp teeth.
“I am an independent faustian,” Lawrence called. “I was asked to join Parasol Parade, a mercenary company.”
“A Faustian?” the demon gestured to its wounded arm. “Can you use Fast Healing on me?”
“I’m tapped out for the day. I used the last of my reserve…” he trailed. He realized the giant bore a Company crest on its chest, the iron-shod fist of the Bloody. “I was a captain working at Nimue’s Tower before it fell. I’m sorry.”
The demon jerked its chin. “Where are your horns?”
“What?”
“All members of Blood Well take level one of the Corporate Skill: Warrior’s Horns. Where are yours?”
“Um.”
“You are not a member.”
“No, I am,” Lawrence protested. He fished the symbol from his bag of holding and held it up. “Or at least I was. I just… didn’t take the Corporate chain.”
The giant looked him over. This specimen was somewhat smarter than the average.
“Half-demon?”
“Yup.”
“Orphan?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“Want a job?”
“Very much so.”
“Kill the angel.”
“I gave my word I wouldn’t.”
“You did?” the giant scoffs. He shakes his head. “Then what good are you?”
Lawrence pulled out a stick of chalk. He scratched some rough symbols in the ice. Unlike the blood, the chalk did not want to stick. He gave up drawing a ward and instead drew his short sword.
“I don’t suppose you have any poison?” he asked.
The giant’s expression was all the answer he got.
Lawrence moved away from the giant. He held his sword in a reverse-grip, laying the blade flat against his arm, under the wide sleeve of his robe. Up in the sky, the elf harassed the retreating ship. He glowed once with a level-up. All his wounds healed.
Two more ships got within firing range. Lightning crackled. Acid spat. The elf summoned his army. Lawrence and the giant watched.
“He. Is. Strong.”
“Yeah.”
The elf lurched as a projectile hit him square in his mid-section. A second form rose to fight him. Another Sky Elf, but one bearing mutations. The fresh fallen wheeled to face the darker, corrupt foe. Lawrence saw himself reflected in the struggle. As with his battle, the corrupt foe proved superior. Auriel disengaged.
“He. Is. Coming.”
Auriel flew in their direction. Rather, he flew at Lawrence. The fallen angel hung back with the ships, but all of them approached. Auriel blurred as he flew, activating a Skill to increase speed. He threw out his wings as he got close, dumping velocity. His legs whipped forward at the change in direction, and he pulled his wings in, dropping to the ground.
Lawrence knelt.
“Faustian.” Auriel leveled his sword at Lawrence, then swept it up at the approaching ships. “Use your magic. Delay them while I escape.”
“What’s in it for me?” Lawrence said.
“Excuse me?” the sky elf looked outraged. “You have been given an order by a servant of Heaven.”
Lawrence dropped his eyes. He shrugged.
“Your obedience is expected. You swore an oath,” he reminded.
Lawrence raised and lowered his chin. He thought back to the wording of his oath.
“So, you’re saying, if I don’t obey…” Lawrence said. “You’ll kill me?”
“You are a minion of evil. I am a servant of the Light.” The elf marched past him. “You. Fiend. Any last words before I dispatch you?”
“I am a giant, angel, and I have a name.”
Lawrence’s emotions whirled. No doubt the elf had a holy job, which Lawrence needed to remove his horror class. But removing it could potentially remove all of his stat gains, and maybe his skills. He’d lose the one thing letting him catch up to Lily and everyone else, knocking him back down to normal. Lily would go back to treating him like he was helpless or just a kid.
He could help the elf, whatever that meant, and maybe get a class removal. The elf might smite him anyway just because, and Lawrence had no idea what helping even entailed. Option two: kill the elf, eat him, and suck up to the giant. He’d get a Skill, favor from a possible boss, a new mob to obey, and be one step closer to finding Lily and the Parade.
He hoped the elf was not a textbook example of the species. He rose from his knee and approached Auriel’s back.
“—I don’t care anymore,” Auriel snapped. “Fiend. Prepare to d—”
Lawrence sank his sword into the elf’s spine. It felt like using a toothpick to stab a lion. Auriel’s hand reached around to yank out the weapon. The elf tossed it away. He didn’t even scream. A little bit of blood dripped, but not a lot. Auriel turned.
“I should have expected nothing less from one so taboo as you. You disgusting little worm. The demons may be evil but not even their Taboo comes close to yours. You must have sinned greatly to have such a high score. [Corona of Holy Fire].”
White fire enveloped Lawrence. He screamed. He shielded his eyes against the light. His jaw unhinged. He launched himself at the elf. A raised fist met him halfway. Lawrence sank his teeth in. He tasted sweaty, human-like skin, then something like honeyed fruit as the elf’s ichor hit his tongue, then something crunchy as he bit through bone. His teeth met in the middle. He popped off the elf’s hand. He moved it to one side of his mouth with his tongue and bit down again. Ichor flowed over his tongue. Lawrence swallowed.
“YOU BIT OFF MY HAND.” Auriel swung his flaming sword. Lawrence ducked. He was burning and healing. He opened his mouth for another bite. Auriel took a step backward and ran right into the giant’s swing. As the black blade bit into his side, he screamed.
Lawrence jumped. He wrapped his arms around the elf’s side and took a chunk out of Auriel’s torso. Auriel smashed his injured arm into Lawrence’s head over and over.
Behind him, the demon ripped his weapon free. He went for another chop, but this time the elf’s weapon was in the way.
Lawrence ripped off another hunk. Screaming, the elf hit Lawrence with his wings. Lawrence staggered from the blow, taking a step back.
“Monster. Savage,” the elf wailed. He kicked Lawrence, knocking the latter out of the fiery aura. “I’ll kill you. [Smite Evil].”
The holy blade descended. Lawrence smelled ozone. Lightning connected with the elf’s weapon, travelling through the elf and into the ice. The shockwave blew Lawrence and the demon away. Lawrence rolled across the ice. He came to a stop somewhere out of range. The lightning went on for a while, frying the guy. When it was over, the fiery aura ended.
Lawrence rubbed his face. He was alive.
+10 PWR, +50 HP, +50 TAB Cannibalism Empowerment: Auriel the Sky Elf 10% of highest Stat (FTH) added to your own. 1 Skill from Sky Elf Job and Paladin of Light Job. Perk Obtained: Legendary Heresy Requirement: Attain 1000 points in the Taboo Stat. Description: There are many ways to measure depravity. Taboo is the mark of those who have committed grave sins or gone against the will of the gods. Your sin is so great even demons are impressed. Effect: Increases the effectiveness of all forbidden practices and spells by 20%. Drawback: You will be shunned by the pious. A Divine Mark is placed on your head, alerting all Holy Jobs a bounty will be paid for killing you. General Information Auriel, Sky Elf, male, 230 years old Sky Elf Skills Divine Sense, Aerial Maneuvarability, Natural Levitation, Divine Attunement Flying Warrior Skills Martial Training, Aerial Combat, Arms and Armor, Resist Pain, Channel Soul, Aerial Dodge, Blue Strike Paladin of Light Skills Holy Miracles, Boost Weapon, Smite Evil, Strength of Faith Status Cannibalized: 50 FTH Skills stolen: Natural Levitation, Boost Weapon Resources Refilled HP: 3487/3487. MP: 1080/1080. Ki: 60/60 Resource Regen/minute HP: 34.87. MP: 53. Ki: 0.06 Defenses 41 ARM, 1 END, 54/100 SAN
Natural Levitation used mana to float for short periods. Boost Weapon let Lawrence use a SOL unit or two for buffed weapon damage. He wasn’t pleased about the Divine Mark. No doubt armies of angels would be descending on Hell. He wondered if those idiot Crusaders would receive a public quest or something. Better skills to steal would have been anything from the Flying Warrior Job. Bah.
“He’s dead,” the giant huffed.
A group of drones wrapped the body in a tarp. It would be taken to a torture chamber and rendered down into raw, pure iliaster. The giant would get a cup, as would the fallen, corrupted angel.
“Who is this?” the corrupted angel looked at Lawrence. The being was androgynous, but it had two extra arms and an eye in the middle of its forehead. It was also fat and possessed a symbol carved into its chest: a tree with an open gash across the center like a mouth, and a fat, lolling tongue. Gluttonous membership. It leveled two swords and two shields in Lawrence’s direction. “A renegade faustian?”
“One of mine,” the giant wheezed. “A housefellow of Blood Well. You, half-breed, show him your emblem.”
Lawrence held up the symbol of Blood Well. It seemed to appease the angel, because the monster relaxed.
“Many are dead.” The corrupt angel surveyed the ice. Imps flitted from one corpse to another. They scavenged equipment, which was then delivered to machinists for repair and cleaning, then to drones for cataloging, and finally given to members who needed it.
“We. Will. Survive. The angel was a treasure. Sixty units of iliaster. Free for the taking.”
“Not free,” the fallen said. “A difficult kill.”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“We. Won.”
“Um, excuse me?” Lawrence raised his hand. He walked over to the demon. Two pairs of eyes looked at him. “Let me get that for you. Fast Healing.”
Several strands of muscle regrew from the demon’s arm. It looked at the dangling limb with detached concern, as if it could not understand what happened.
“Fast Healing.” Lawrence touched the demon’s arm. The muscle regrew. Flesh covered it. He took his hand away. He was down eight units, but the demon kept his arm.
“Thank you, half-breed.” The demon flexed his arm.
“This is a half-man?” the angel’s third eye fixated on Lawrence. “I see it now. Blasphemous, powerful sorcery, but untrained. Yes, this is a good resource. He will do well for us. Come, half-man. The drones will get you something hot to eat.”
Lawrence boarded the airship with the giant, who declined to introduce himself. He ordered an imp to show Lawrence to the quartermaster.
“Folo me, ser.” The little horned gargoyle bobbed its head once before zooming up to Lawrence’s shoulder.
“I’ll take it from here.” A clawed foot kicked the imp off.
“Aiiiiiieeeee.” The imp’s wings fluttered. It zoomed up to eye level and raised a fist. “Mastuh ord’r’d me.”
“I don’t care,” a familiar reedy, high-pitched voice said. “I am taking it from you. Fight me if you dare.”
“Hello, Gnat.” Lawrence turned his head. The little gargoyle still had the knife Lawrence had given him, though he now had a small pair of horns sticking up from the top of his head. “You look smaller.”
“I leveled up. Master Lawrence is observant.”
“You’re gonna show me where to get dinner?”
“Down the hatch.” Gnat pointed. “That way.”
A few minutes later, Lawrence had a plate of hot human food and a mug of tepid but drinkable water. He sat at one of the available benches while demons bustled around on deck. Gnat sat opposite him with folded arms. Lawrence listened while the little demon recounted its story.
After the mercenaries attacked, most of the defenders died. Gnat and many others surrendered. The mercenaries, unusually, did not accept their surrender. Gnat fled. He and a few other imps found out why as an airship from Thug Swarm arrived with an army. Thousands of damned got rounded up and taken back to Thug Swarm's fledgling estates. Gnat had the bright idea to try joining Thug Swarm, therefore he sent one of the younger, dumber imps to try.
They did not try again.
He did not know what became of Nimue’s Tower, nor did he care. Gnat and the remaining imps flew high up on the winds of Tempest looking for errant souls on which to feed. After a long, boring tale of his non-adventures in the frozen wastes, Gnat discovered Blood Well’s raiding party and the new dungeon.
“Wow,” Lawrence said, deadpan. “What a story.”
“I know, right?” the imp beamed. “It was a great tale. It is a shame no one will hear of it. You know, human, I’ve never before realized how wonderful it would be to have books.”
“Books are good.”
“Books are only good if they’re about me.” Gnat stood on the bench. Hands on hips. Chest out and shoulders back. “I should write a story about my adventures and post it on the Interwebs.”
“People would read it,” Lawrence agreed, nodding. “Self-insert fanfiction is all the rage right now. There’s a website a friend of mine uses, Frost, he’s a doppleganger bookseller, he’s putting my story online in chapters. I bet he’d do the same for you, if you asked nicely.”
“Oh goodie,” Gnat squealed. “My own personal book. We can call it The Story of Me.”
“If you’re going to write a book about your adventures, you need a cool name. Something that strikes fear into the hearts of people.” Lawrence finished his plate.
“Venom-saber,” Gnat said. “Ooo, I know. What about Backstab? Or Blood Stain?”
“Well, I was thinking something more along the lines of a naming scheme for something that causes changes on the orders of magnitude.”
“What? Like Fujita? Oh, I know. Richter. Like the Richter scale.”
“Quaking changes indeed,” Lawrence said. “Or, for something more disturbing, you can go the BDSM-punk-apocalypse route and call yourself something like Lord Humongous. Just get a jock strap and a ski mask for your costume, and you’re good to go.”
“Oh yeah.” Gnat rubbed his hands together. “It’s all coming together. Now, tell me, human, what exactly is a ‘jock strap?’”
Lawrence bit down hard on his lip. He waited until he trusted himself to speak.
“It’s, ahem, a thing guys wear. Protection. For the, uh,” Lawrence stood and made a cupping motion.
“Oh. Oh. Well, demons don’t have those.” Gnat’s brow creased. “Humans do? Oh, right, for breeding. In case the master wants more slaves. Hrmph. Well, I can’t say I’ll ever see a use for it. I for one, won’t be picking up that Noble mutation when I become a Captain. Are you still a Captain?”
“Dunno.” Lawrence gestured toward his plate. “What do I do with this?”
“I’ll take it.” Gnat whistled. An imp flitted down from the ceiling. It was larger than Gnat, with one bulging eye twice as big as the other, and a knot of stringy hair. “You. Take this away. Get it cleaned.”
“Yessuh mastuh.” The bigger imp gathered up the plate, the crude iron utensils, and the empty tin mug. It flew off toward a different section of the ship.
“Really got that delegation thing down, huh?”
“What’s del-eh-gay-shun?”
Lawrence shook his head.
“What d’you want, Gnat?” Lawrence grew serious. He looked at the demon. He tried to guess the creature’s thoughts, but the demon was hard to read. Lawrence had a feeling he knew, based on its species and behavior.
“I want to be your advisor,” Gnat said. “And your ear. Soon we will touch down in a nest of vipers. You have seen the silkways stretching between mountains?”
“Giant cobwebs the spider-demons use as highways. Yeah. They’re kind of hard to miss.”
“You must also know of the Common mutation Venom? It turns our blood to poison?”
“Yeah. I’ve thought about picking it up. Being immune to poison and able to poison people at will, ‘green-handed devils’ are sort of respected around here. It would be a great tool to have.”
“Someone has invented a new mutation. Disease-focused. We thought it was Deathcaps United, the fungus and disease-breeding Corporation. We were wrong. There is something under the ice, hidden within the dungeon. It is infecting the spiders with a disease and the disease is spreading.”
“How is that a bad thing?” Lawrence interlaced his fingers.
“If it spreads to the spiders on the silkways, it will spread across the Ring before it can be contained. Demons everywhere will die. The great Corporations will be at war over resources.” Gnat spread his hands. “Then there is nothing we can do.”
“The politics of demons mean little to the struggles of mortals.” Lawrence looked away. “If one company or estate falls, what difference does it make? All the corporations are locked in a forever war. With the daily need for iliaster, logistics are everything in Maelstrom. Besides, Tempest is a frozen wasteland. I’d argue even less populated than Emptiness. Just focus on yourself. How best can you or I profit from this, and how can we survive?”
“You’re not at all worried? What if the disease infects—” Gnat looked up and around before lowering his voice. “That place.”
Lawrence knew without looking what was undoubtedly listening. No doubt some enterprising imp would carry a record of this conversation back to its master. He shook his head. He raised and lowered one shoulder. He had mixed feelings. He wasn't there long enough to care.
“It’s none of my business. All I need to know is where the mercenaries are at. Where’s Parasol Parade? Where’s Lily and Kyri? And how best can we profit? If there’s a war coming between corporations, that’s good. War is expensive. For those supplying, war is profitable. There’s money to be made.”
“Blood Well and Thug Swarm have set aside their differences for this raid. Infernal Innovations is lending sorcerous and biomechanical support. Deathcaps United has disavowed the disease, but nobody is buying it. Three big corporations are teaming up for this.”
“And two of them hate each other. The Bloody and the Usurpers. What about the sorcerer-corp?”
“The Magicians? Three of their factions are present. The Corporation, serving in an advisory capacity, and the two allied Orders. House of Magnus, and the Order of Malificer. Both are looking for new recruits and profits.”
“Bingo.”
“You want to join them?”
“Dunno yet.” Lawrence closed his eyes. “Gotta find Lily first. And Captain Ferg. Get their opinions. There’s some summoning I need to do. Is there a private place I can do it?”
“There is a place in the hold. I am certain none will bother you. Though, don’t expect much privacy.”
“What I expect is that everything I say will make its way back to a Captain or lord trying to decide whether to kill me. Therefore, it’s my job to ensure they all think I am the most powerful faustian around, thus worth protecting.”
“Please follow me, master.”
Lawrence followed Gnat down the stairs. The imp led him down a steel-plated hallway into the bowels of the airship. Gnat opened a door to a small cell. It was a copper-plated box with a silver summoning circle inlaid in the floor.
“This belongs to someone, but they went into the dungeon a few cycles ago. Do you need materials?”
“An upgrade to something other than chalk would be nice, but otherwise, no.”
“I will be attending to other matters, master. This room is not soundproof. May I ask what rituals you intend to cast?”
“I’m summoning somebody powerful. Could take a while.”
“I see. I will find you a soul to use.” Gnat flew off.
Lawrence made sure the door did not lock before he entered. It did not. It did not appear to have a lock. That was fine. He closed the door, fully expecting it to seal him in like an actual prison cell. When he pushed on it, it opened.
Lawrence shook his head. Maybe he was being paranoid. He sat down outside the summoning circle. He got out his candles and chalk and went to work. He pulled a brazier from his bag of holding. He lit it with a match. Bluish-white flames rose. It would take the brazier a little while to warm, and a little more before Lawrence had some iliaster he could use.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Lawrence called. The door opened.
“I have the soul, master.” Gnat waddled into the room. In one hand he clutched a cord. The other end was knotted around a shade’s neck. The shade had been human once. It was now balding, with pale, pupilless eyes, pale skin, and a raggedy loincloth. Gnat jerked the rope. The soul stumbled in after him. It looked around, fearful.
Gnat led the soul to a hook on the wall. Lawrence’s initial impression was that Gnat would hang the soul’s wrist shackles on the hook, or the leg irons if it felt devious. Gnat did neither. Instead, the imp positioned the soul in front of the hook, facing away. Gnat flew up, sank his claws on all four hands and feet into the soul, flapped his wings, and drew the soul up. The soul began weeping, pleading from the stab wounds, but Gnat ignored it. Gnat levered the soul up, moved it back a little, and let it drop.
Lawrence blinked. He closed his eyes as the hook went through the soul’s chest. The soul screamed once before subsiding into low moans. Milky blood, ectoplasm, dripped from the wound. Lawrence pushed over the brazier so it sat under the soul. He turned up the heat. Ectoplasm dripped into the brazier, turning the blue flames a pale cream.
“The quartermaster says you can use it as long as you need, but the soul is required when you are finished. He also says he needs you to perform Energy Tap.”
“Right. Thanks.” Lawrence held out his hand toward the fire. It would be a few minutes before he could draw power, but the fire warmed.
“Do you need anything, master?”
Lawrence lifted his eyes to Gnat’s. The imp waited. Lawrence treated the question seriously. Gnat was an imp, a tiny little thing best found on the shoulders of more powerful demons whispering in their ears, but he was also a spy, a messenger, and a businessman. Lawrence knew of a few imps who had wormed their way into positions of trust or authority.
“You can read, can’t you? Read and write?”
“Of course, master.”
“Going forward,” Lawrence said slow, “I can’t promise you’ll get what you want out of me, but I can promise I’ll do everything I can to ensure you’ll get it. Therefore, it’s in your best interests to do two things for me. Are you ready?”
“Yes, master.” The imp folded his hands.
“Do not lie to me. Do not betray me. Do not disobey me. Do not creatively interpret my orders. I need someone I can trust to follow the spirit of my orders. Can you do that?”
“If you expect to be able to trust me or any other demon,” the imp’s lips curved up. “You won’t live long. You should have realized such when the goat demon tried to kill you.”
“How do you know that?” Lawrence’s mouth fell open.
“I know many things, master.” Gnat’s smile revealed his sharp teeth.
Lawrence froze for one second. He inhaled and felt his heart start beating again. His mind raced.
“I also need a spy. A reliable one. Honest. Someone who can alert me when the knife pointed at my back is about to stab, and doing it with enough time I can move.”
“I will be your servant, master Lawrence,” multiple voices hissed from the demon’s throat. “I swear.”
Lawrence felt the strength of the Contract even if he did not know its number. It was a good, high number. More than a mercenary, less than a soul. He immediately lost all possible trust for the demon, and in hindsight, that was probably a good thing. Lawrence hated politics because everything was hidden. He liked warriors because their treachery was out in the open. Gnat was… refreshing.
“Write down your Status. Leave nothing out. Tell no one of this or of what we have spoken. I need some materials for the dungeon: paint, an aerosol can preferably, but not required, and wool. As much wool as you can find.”
“Paint and wool, master.” The imp bowed low at the waist.
“And your status. That comes first.”
“Yes master. May I have your journal?”
“No,” Lawrence snapped. “I will allow you to borrow my journal to write your Status in. You may not read the rest of my journal or leave this room with it. You must give it back to me as soon as you are done. And you must write your Status within five minutes. You may borrow one of my pens.”
Lawrence handed over a pen. He opened his journal to a new page. He handed it to Gnat, but not before glaring at the demon.
“Five minutes?” Gnat feigned offense. “I am not a slow worker, master Lawrence. One minute. Tops.”
Forty-five seconds later, Gnat flitted out of the cell. Lawrence rose to close the door. Now in blessed silence, Lawrence examined what the little monster had written.
Gnat. Demon, imp, mid-forties, gender- and sex-less. Pronouns: he/it.
Imp 10, Underling 5
Imp Skills:
1. Physiology
2. Blood Well Corporation Line 1 (warrior horns. +20 ARM, but cannot wear normal headgear. Headgear must be specially made, costing double.)
3. Telepathy 1 (touch-based mind reading, costs 3 SOL/minute).
Underling Skills
1. Eye for Talent
2. Unquestioning Obedience
General Skills: Appraise, Balance, Bluff, Disable Device, Gather Information, Grovel, Hide, Listen, Move Silently, Perform, Sense Motive, Spot, Tumble, Natural Weapon Mastery (claws, bite), Knife Mastery.
Began life with: -20 PWR/VIG/FCE, +20 KNW/WIS/AGI, +40 SKL, 60 base HP, good Will, 20 base ARM, Natural Weapons (Claws), Listed General Skills (demons cannot add more General Skills under normal circumstances, except those related to weapons or armor), 4x KNW/MNT/WIS, Small Stature.
Stats: PWR 10, SKL 60, VIG 10, KI 30, KNW 100, WIS 100, MNT 100, FTH 30, FCE 10, PER 30, AGI 50, LCK 20, ARM 20, COR 100.
Note: Demons gain Species EXP from performing their breed’s purpose. For imps: toadying, sneaking undetected, gathering information. Physiology Skill advancements: 1 Wings, 2 Shrink (12 inches tall), 3 Suggestion (Glad I Thought of It!), 4 Shrink (6 inches tall), 5 Possession (Physical. By channeling SOL, may shrink enough to enter another’s ear and control their brain like a keyboard. Must conquer the host's will to assume control. Cannot be removed by exorcism. Ending Possession or running out of SOL inside the host will cause the demon to expand, thus killing their host.)
Never leveled Imp because daily SOL requirement is 1/5th of Species Job level. All demons have a SOL reserve of 7.
Lawrence knew the little demon knew his dirty little secret. Good and bad existed in equal measure. He wouldn’t have to dance around the issue, and neither would the demon, but now the demon was a loose end. Lawrence had a vulnerability. He supposed one way to look at it was that he always had the vulnerability, but now he knew where it was. He could turn it to his advantage. He’d never be able to trust Gnat, but now Lawrence had a useful tool.
By now the brazier cooked the soul. Ectoplasm ran off the soul in rivulets to be collected and burned. The soul complained, but they always did. Lawrence did his best to ignore it as he began chanting.
He began with a Ritual Preparation. It required one hour of chanting over a summoning circle or ritual site, followed by an amount of SOL spent. Each unit spent increased his Sorcery Skill by the same amount, up to ten points. A Greater Ritual Preparation increased the cap to twenty points, but required an additional hour of chanting per unit spent. When completed he spent an additional unit on a Hung spell, which cast immediately, and held off the ritual from completing.
With Hung spells, he could spend one unit per X days for the spell to remain. The cost was paid up front, and the ritual would be “on pause” until the faustian desired. At which point it would then activate. If the faustian went the full number of days without casting it, the spell failed without activation. SOL was not refunded.
Lawrence did a second ritual preparation, this time with no Hanging. When completed, his Sorcery Skill increased by ten points, had he possessed one. He activated the second ritual, giving him a plus-twenty boost. His robes gave him a third boost. Because the circle was made of silver, it gave him a big boost. Then he began his summoning chant.
In truth, he did not expect the spell to work. He had no idea who the carmine king was, or if he was in a fortress. He had no gift to offer. His wards were strong, but wards could be broken or ignored. Lawrence had thought long and hard over his status and its relationship to corruption. He came to conclusion that Eldritch Corruption directly correlated to his Starling heritage, but did correlation equal causation?
In most things, no, but here? Starlings or Star-Spawn were synonymous with ‘eldritch.’ Gaining ELD gave him extra body parts. Lawrence knew his mom knew. He had a feeling he’d regret the answer he was about to get, but he could not continue without knowing.
“Carmine King. Carmine King. I summon thee.”
A typical summoning ritual had the summoner hold their sword at the summoned demon’s throat. Lawrence did not. He stayed several steps back from the wardings. Weatherly had performed a standard summoning. Lawrence knew… well, he didn’t know.
A pool of darkness appeared on the floor. It covered the diameter of the summoning circle. It had the consistency of water, but the color of used motor oil. The pool drank the light. The brazier darkened. The soul stopped moaning. Gloom descended, until a kind of reverse-light emanated from the pool’s edge, casting a an illuminating pall.
A tentacle emerged from the pool, but it was like no ocean-thing Lawrence had ever seen. This was a tendril of the purest shadow outlined with a halo of light. It was the halo which illuminated the room. The tendril rose into the air. The end of it came to a questing point. It wavered around as if searching for something to grab.
Lawrence took another step back. The tendril froze. The soul froze. The tendril’s tip turned toward Lawrence. It pointed at him, like a predator zeroing in on prey. It shot forward, but slammed into the warding. A curtain appeared in the air, a series of layers shielding the portal like an onion. The tendril melted into a pool of ink, or maybe it reformed.
It pressed against the surface of the ward, searching for an opening. The tendril moved up and down, feeding more of itself out of the void, pressing more matter against the ward. The wards held. Eventually, the tendril retracted. The surface of the pool grew still. The hairs of the back of Lawrence’s neck prickled.
He had the eerie sensation something watched. He tore his gaze from the pool to check the door, but it was still closed. The only other opening to this room was an air vent, intentionally built too small for an imp, and barred. Lawrence saw nothing in it looking at him. He pressed out with his will but felt only a steel vent and air duct. He glanced at the soul. It had covered its face with its hands like a terrified child.
Lawrence returned his eyes to the pool. He dreaded looking at the thing. It was silent. It was dark. The surface was still. But it looked oh so much like the pupil of a giant eye.
“…Your Majesty?” Lawrence disturbed the silence with a whisper. “Are you there?”
Lawrence skin crawled. He realized the twin mouths were moving. He felt one move to the back of his hand facing the pool. The other moved to his throat. Both mouths opened. Teeth angled out, tongues protruded. Lawrence knew he’d never get used to the sensation.
The surface rippled. A shape rose from the ink without breaking the surface. It was like the time Lawrence had stuck his finger in saran wrap to see the plastic stretch taut over his skin. The empty void stretched over a figure, hiding it from the light.
Lawrence identified horns like a stag, broad shoulders and a narrow waist, the head had a long face like a deer, horse, or cow. An arm lifted, stretching the covering tight. The hand was palm down, but the fingers flexed. Lawrence saw thin, needle-like claws as long as his arm. The creature crooked a finger at him.
“I am the Carmine King,” the figure said. The voice emanated not from the figure, but from the mouths on Lawrence’s body. It sounded like the wind honing blades of grass. “I am the Color Job of Eating and Drinking, quickening the flesh, and culling the weak. I am called the Devourer, the Life-Bringer, and the Beast. You may kneel.”
“What do you want?” Lawrence whispered as he sank to one knee.
“To return to my bride.” The mouth on his throat moved up to the side of his head. It whispered in his ear, while the other moved to the back of his exposed hand. “Swear with me, and we will plunge this world beneath the thin veneer of sanity upon which it pretends to reside.”
Lawrence squinted one eye, nonverbally indicating indecision.
“And you get a rare Job,” the figure added. “And a unique, indestructible item bound to your soul. And immortality. And you become one of my Favored.”
“What I really want is…” Lawrence hesitated. He glanced at the soul, but it was mostly gone. Oh, the body still writhed and moaned. White soul-stuff ran off it like a melting ice cube. It would reform in an hour, full health, but the mind wasn’t ‘there.’ It couldn't report on him. Lawrence took the plunge. “Access. I really want Access to the Program.”
“I am sorry. I cannot.” The figure lowered its hand. It crossed its arms under the black sheet of liquid darkness. “The Aurelio Archivist does not allow Rulebreakers.”
“Then how do I get Access?” Lawrence demanded. He checked his attitude. Whatever else this thing may be, it believed itself to be a king. “I’m sorry. How do I get Access, sir?”
“You are Half-Starling. You must complete either the Trials of Leveling, or the Trials of Blood, the clause in the Program for my followers.”
“The Trials of Leveling?” Lawrence repeated.
“Upon the dawn of your sixteenth birthday, you will be eligible to help your people complete them. No other species may assist you in this endeavor.”
“And the Trials of Blood?” Lawrence got out his notebook. He began scribbling notes.
“One million of my children are scattered over the Storm. Mortals, Sky Elves, Good Walkers, demons, all of them and you have inherited a shard of my power. All must compete in the Trials. A test of grit, survival, violence, and strength.
“Trial one: every species has an innate drive to survive. Only sentients balk at consuming the flesh of their own kind. To prove you will do whatever it takes to survive, eat the flesh of your own kind when there is no other option. This is the Trial of Survival.”
Lawrence added the details.
“Trial two. It is the goal of all species to reach for the heavens by standing on the shoulders of giants. Find ten individuals with a combat Job over level seventy-five. Kill them and consume their corpse and you will prove your ability to reach heights greater still by trampling said giants under your feet. This is the Trial of Giants.”
Lawrence snorted under his breath. He shook his head.
“Trial three,” the Carmine King continued. “To prove your species in the one fit to inherit my power and gain Access, you must eliminate all other competing species. This Trial may begin only when all applicant species have completed the Trial of Giants. This is the Trial of Last One Standing.”
“A battle royale,” Lawrence whispered.
“These are the Trials of Blood. Other paths exist.” The sheet stretched taut descended back into the pool. The pool then closed like an eye, replaced with regular floor and the five-pointed star inside a circle, surrounded inside and out with hieroglyphs.
ELD +1
Lawrence added everything to his notebook. Afterward, he reviewed his entry for Energy Tap.
Energy Tap, per his notes, drained SOL from a target and added it to the caster’s reserve. If the target possessed no SOL, the spell drained their Intelligence-related stat points from his target. If cast on a demon, it put them into Dissolution. On a damned, it lobotomized them. Required 3 SOL to cast, casting time was instantaneous, but required a connection to his target.
Per his notes, this took the form of a gold ring and bar of gold, or two gold rings. The caster would wear the ring and throw the bar into something that would melt it—a volcano, a spawning pool, an acid pool, et cetera. For a 3 unit activation cost, the spell would last one minute. During the minute, 60 units of SOL generated, totaling fifty-seven.
Alternatively, one could make another demon wear a gold ring, in addition to the caster. After paying SOL to activate and winning opposing will checks, SOL transferred from the victim to the caster’s reserve. Or the spell drained stats.
He thought back to his time at Nimue’s Tower. In the fortress, he’d cast a bastardization of the whole thing. No components. What did it mean? Was it possible to make… yes, yes it was. One of Winter’s skills had been Patterns on the Weave, right? With the right Skill, one could make original rituals, or perhaps alter an existing one. The catch is that it required a Skill, and Lawrence did not have a Skill.
He came to the conclusion the Program allowed for shortcuts. At the end of the day, faustian sorcery was not… as easy to use as regular sorcery. Even Energy Tap was more complex than [Fireball].
Lawrence shook his head. Gah, it made his head hurt. He dismissed the remain—no, he couldn’t. He still had unfinished business. He checked the wardings. Everything was still in place. The soul had a few handfuls left. Lawrence turned the brazier down so the soul would have a chance to heal. Then he began chanting.
Instead of an alien god, he went for something more subtle.
“Caster. Caster. I summon thee.” Lawrence rose. Drawing his sword, he leveled it about where the demon’s throat would be. The goat-thing took shape in the air. It appeared before he finished. Lawrence finished the spell and looked down at the beast.
“Booker, right?” the goat-thing said.
“Yeah,” Lawrence said after a moment.
“You did not offer a gift.” The goat cocked its head. “Were you trying to insult me on purpose?”
“You tried to get me killed,” Lawrence said, deadpan. “Tell me why I shouldn’t Energy Tap you and kill you.”
“My friends will hunt you down,” the demon replied. Actual fires of barely suppressed rage dripped from its eyeballs. “I kept my word. I introduced your friends to the Delightful Choir. Since betraying you I leveled up. I have a new Mutation: Burning Rage. I can compel you to drink my tears, and they will burn you, halfbreed. I have joined a faustian order, the Order of Malificer. Let me go or I’ll flay the flesh from your bones and feed on your soul for all eternity.”
Lawrence supposed a horned, satanic-looking demon threatening to torture him forever was a threat worthy of a bad horror movie, but the little creature in front of him looked anything but intimidating.
“Do you have any other Skills?” Lawrence did not hide his disappointment.
“Animal Aspect,” Caster crowed. “My head changed to look like my chosen form: a Hebridean sheep.”
“So you’re a sheep, not a goat,” Lawrence said. He scratched his chin." What does Animal Aspect even do?”
“You mean you don’t know one of the most common mutations for beasts? It transforms you into an animal of your choice. Otherwise, you become a chimera,” the demon lifted its nose. “Fool.”
“You do realize sheep are the dumbest animals on the farm, right? Like, I can’t even emphasize how categorically stupid they are. Dumber than pigeons, even.”
“Sheep are not stupid,” Caster protested. “We are geniuses.”
“Not genius enough to avoid prostituting yourself to an Order for a handful of coins,” Lawrence waited for the shock to register before continuing. “Too rich for my blood, if I ever wanted to hire you.”
“I am not a whore,” Caster said.
“Well then I can’t really can’t afford you.”
“You spineless worm. You golden-coated skin-shrivel moosk-polyp. I am not a whore.”
“Funny. A whore would get the joke.” Lawrence pointed at the demon and laughed. “Animal Aspect. I’ll think about it. Get goin’ stupid. You’re banished.”
Lawrence began chanting. The demon frothed. A stream of profanities issued from its mouth. Lawrence dismissed the demon to wherever it came. It disappeared slow.
“Beware me, halfbreed,” the devil sheep demon roared. “Hear my words. No matter where you go, how far you fly, I will find you. I will kill you. I will devour your flesh. I will scorch your soul for eternity until you are a wastrel. Until you are nothing but an insignificant little mote of light spiraling through the Storm. Hear my words. I swear.”
He vanished. Lawrence sighed.
“You should have killed him when you had the chance.”
Lawrence raised his head to see Gnat standing outside the door.
“Yeah, maybe. But I’m kind of tired of killing.” Lawrence shrugged.
“Did you hang any spells? Hellfire fireball, perhaps?”
“No time.” Lawrence shook his head. He sank to the floor. He leaned his head back against the wall. It was time to sleep. “I need to sleep. Used too many soul units today.”
“That’s good,” Gnat’s tone changed. “Fellas, told you.”
Lawrence’s eyes snapped open. Hooded, masked men in dark clothes stood in the doorway. They carried long, black knives.
“You’re as good as your word, demon. Here’s your payment.” The guy in front sprinkled a handful of gold coins on the floor. Gnat fell to his knees, scrabbling for as many as he could.
Lawrence lunged for the center of the summoning circle. The assassins were faster, and they turned out to be mortal. They ran right over the symbols without care. Tired as he was, Lawrence fought. Of course he fought. No other response existed. There was no time for thought or consideration. The assassins dogpiled him. Punches and kicks rained.