Lord Douglas looked on in horror as the dead rose. Across the field, bodies twitched and thrashed as the foul magic reanimating their forms took control. It was not only the damned who rose. Closer to the packed ranks of the exhausted army, the fallen Scots also began to worm their way from the corpse piles of the Tournament field and advanced on their still living fellows.

Desperately, James signalled the hornsman to blow the charge. A desperate signal to the cavalry that they ride to the aid of his beleaguered troops. As the brazen sound rose over the clash of steel and the thump of steel through flesh, the Lord of Douglas could only hope they’d arrive in time.

The first of the undead had already begun dragging themselves upon the pikes, uncaring of their wounds. Men stepped back in horror as the dead stumbled forward; their sightless eyes unblinking in the sunlight.

James knew they had no choice but to retreat. If they could somehow retreat to the berm, they may hold them off for a time.

Desperately he prayed for some way to kill these monsters. As he crossed himself, one of the Templars broke ranks - and in an act of courage that James could scarcely believe - stove in the head of one monster before being dragged to the ground by a swarm of others.

James looked on in surprise as his prayer was answered.

The creature ceased its movement. They could be slain after all!

“Drop Pikes!” The Lord of Douglas ordered. “Close your ranks and back away. Tight formation! Shields up!"

"Destroy their heads and they shall fall!”

The line of infantry stumbled back as James saw the left Schiltrom crumble. If the cavalry did not arrive soon, they would all be lost.

“Remember the Bruce!” he cried, and the Scots took the cry up. The sound of defiance rallying the men and women of Dunbartonshire. James was proud of them. Only days before, these smallfolk had been traders, craftsmen, and farmers. People of peace. Yet now they stood bravely, fighting with a courage he could scarcely believe against undead horrors.

They held the line.

James grabbed one of the undead by the arm and swung his sword deep into its neck. The blade coming to a sudden stop as it hit the monster's spine. He stumbled back, trying to free his blade.

As he did, the undead pressed forward suddenly, causing him to trip on a corpse and fall.

Desperate not to be left behind, James grasped the blade of his weapon and levered it off him, managing to rise to a knee as the line stepped back once more.

He was about to abandon his blade when a shadow flashed above his head and a familiar axe-blade cleft the skull of the undead creature in twain, showering the Lord of Douglas in its gore.

A hand grasped him under the arm and pulled him back into the ranks of Scots. The were holding the line.

Turning to his savior, the Lord of Douglas saw Sir Iain and gave a grateful smile.

“The men were out of arrows, Lord. Given what was happening, I thought we would be better use here than on the berm."

James simply nodded, looking around and seeing the situation, though dire, was not untenable. Iain handed him his Great Axe, which the Lord immediately leant on.

"The other pike walls are retreating towards the centre." Iain continued his report. "The undead have encircled us now.”

James, his breathing now somewhat recovered, gasped in a few deep breaths before shouldering the axe and turning once more to face the enemy.

As he reached the front ranks, another of the undead stumbled towards him, and the Lord of Douglas swung the axe in an overhead blow.

The undead slumped to the ground, bisected to the hip.

Looking ahead, the wave of undead seemed to be without end, though they seemed to be slowing now, as if whatever drove them forward was now uncertain.

With swift blows, James slew two creatures in quick succession, before stepping back to allow Iain to move his shield into the line. Over the young knight’s head, he could see that something was distracting the Damned, who were turning to stare dumbly up at the Pyramid.

The Lord of Douglas followed their gaze and noticed that it listed to one side. As he looked on, the massive object teetered for a moment, and then fell.

With a titanic boom, the Black Pyramid crashed to the ground, causing clouds of dust to erupt into the air. Whatever magics that had supported it failing. As it landed, one of the undead collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

James frowned. No one had struck it.

Another of the undead collapsed, and some of the Scots paused their steady withdrawal to stare. More undead fell, now, and more, until a new berm of the risen dead lay unmoving before the Scottish line.

As they fell, a great cheer erupted from the Scots. Before James could order them to hold, they charged forward.

Though exhausted, their charge broke the ranks of the remaining damned, many of whom were still staring back at the ruin of the black pyramid. As James followed his men, he brought his axe down upon one of the enemy slaves, whose face betrayed an expression of fear.

Its face collapsed under the weight of the axe, and James smiled as he heard the galloping hooves approaching.

The cavalry - finally - had arrived.

Grinning, James looked over the battlefield to see Moray’s force fall upon the rear of the enemy horde. The Earl's Conroi smashed into the foe, shattering them. Heavy warhorses smashed the enemy into the ground, trampling them down through the mud as the heavy hoofs added to the death on the field.

Lances snapped loudly under the weight of the corpses of multiple pierced foes, and riders drew their blades to continue the slaughter. James guessed that nearly five hundred of the damned were crushed or impaled within the first few seconds.

The loss of the Pyramid, as well as the devastation wrought by the combined attack of Scots cavalry and infantry, had broken the enemy completely.

James let out a cheer as first one, then hundreds of the Damned turned their back and fled. Soon thousands were sent streaming back towards the portal, seeking escape.

“Onward! Kill as many as you can! For the Bruce!” He screamed, eager now to take as many of the enemy down as he could. The cry was taken up by the infantry, and though exhausted, they stumbled after their foes.

The cavalry - fresh to the field - didn’t stop either, racing ahead to cut off the retreat. They slaughtered their way through the fleeing armies of the damned without mercy.

There were still small groups of enemies who resisted, but the impetuous Scots fell upon them in far greater numbers, venting their rage upon the enemies of God.

The enemy retreat quickly became a rout and soon outpaced all but the Scottish cavalry.

Exhausted, Lord Douglas collapsed to his knees, gasping in a deep lungful of air.

Nearby, Sir Iain finished one of the slower elites who had tried to rally some slaves.

Too tired to speak, James removed his helm and set it on the ground before stripping off as much of his armour as he could. Then, exhausted, he lay down on the ground.

They’d won.

“Sed Nomine, Domine” He whispered, crossing himself as visions of red and gold appeared before his eyes.

**********************************************************************************

Principality of Asmodeus,

Eighth Circle of Hell,

June 7th, 1329

Liam awoke slowly, blinking sleep from his eyes as he tried to work out where he was. He shook his head, feeling the lightness of his limbs as he rolled to his feet. Something was wrong.

He couldn’t see anything, and there was no sound. Everything around him was blank, as though he were in a void. Liam reached out with his magical sense out of habit, feeling out the room's dimensions with his magic. He stood atop a dais in the centre of a spherical chamber.

He tried to remember how he’d come to be here; the search bringing back his last living memory.

Liam recalled his death and the murderous Queen who had slain him. He had felt the knife plunging into his body and the sudden cold spreading from his neck.

He couldn’t have fled, not with the Queen as powerful as she had been.

The thought had crossed his mind, but he’d nearly exhausted his magic power, and knew that if he’d turned to run, the Queen would have had no trouble slaying him as he retreated. She’d been too powerful, too strong, too fast.

His hand flew up to his neck, and he felt something soft and cold beneath his touch. It was not skin, but there was something there that he could feel. The knowledge that he was, in fact, present reassured him beyond measure. He smiled in relief as he realized the wound was no longer there, though he suspected that may be because he was dead. A chill passed through him, and he rubbed at his arms.

Dead. I died. Then another, more human thought came to him.

Why aren’t I wearing my armour? Why am I naked?

He checked desperately for his most precious possession. His storage ring.

It too was gone. Am I a spirit? Is this truly purgatory? Or was the Queen speaking the truth? Am I trapped within the Pyramid, waiting for my soul to be used for death-magic?

He searched his memory once more, trying to work out how he had come to this place, and why he was suddenly bereft of his gear. He tried to speak, but no sound emerged. The effort making his throat parched beyond anything he’d felt before.

He tried to breathe in but found that the act made him desperate for air.

He could feel his stomach cramping from lack of food too, and his bowels with the sudden need to void.

What is happening here? He collapsed to the dais, writhing as he felt the pain of his mortal needs overwhelm him. The sensation lasted for what seemed like an age before slowly — ever so slowly; they receded.

The conscious part of his mind knew that to breathe again was to feel the agony return. How is this happening to me? He wondered. If I were to stop breathing…

He realized then that his spirit could not breathe, eat, drink, or vacate itself. It needed nothing and produced nothing.

But then why am I feeling like this?

Is this the end? The beginning of an eternity of waiting for absolution?

He shook with fear.

The space he was in was dark. Not the dark of night, but the dark of a deep cavern. It was black like pitch, black like the space between the stars.

Liam couldn’t see his fingers in front of his face. He could feel them, though. His attuned magic sense allowed him that much.

He cursed inwardly, hoping that he could access his attributes, and thought desperately.

Open Statistics.

Nothing happened.

What in all the heavens is happening?

He stretched his limbs, pinching himself and checking to see if he had all his fingers, toes, and most importantly, his…

Thank God! Still there.

Liam pondered for a moment if he was truly dead. Was this purgatory? Was he being punished for sins he had failed to repent?

He tried and failed to recall his last confession. It must have been before they left Douglas. That was a long time to build up sin. He shrugged inwardly. Perhaps if my Magic still works, I can blast a way out of here. He opened his mouth to cast flame, stopping himself barely before he tried to speak the words, recalling what had just happened to him moments before.

Liam had no desire to feel that pain again.

He knew that a part of him wanted to panic, but there was no point in that. Whatever he was and wherever he was, he was safe for now. Unreasoning fear over his situation would not help him escape.

I need to form my intent. I’ve been alone before, and afraid. Control cures fear. To fear what I can’t control is a waste of energy, but how to know if it can’t be controlled? To do that, I need to know what I face. But what to do when there is no way to know?

He smiled, remembering the conversation with Sir Keith so long ago. My Intent is to learn.

Then I shall learn.

He ran through the things that he knew. Those were the things he could affect or learn from.

I am me. I am alive, or my spirit is. I can touch, think and do some small amount of magic. I….

He listed all the things that he knew about his situation and himself. Running through them and worked the problem. He kept going until he got to his Spirit Nexus.

Liam had done nothing with his nexus since he’d opened his core, but while he’d been ignoring it, it had not been ignoring him. Strange tendrils were branching from his base core, moving down and through his body.

He reached within and found that the magical currents he stored within were full. He concentrated and tried to access the power, but it refused to come out without sound. Liam knew he couldn’t even breathe to make a song, let alone noise.

He kept trying, desperate to find some way to access the power trapped within. To find some mechanism for him to create a harmony, a dissonance, anything!

Finally, as he was giving up, he felt something change. It was small, as though he felt a tickle in his gut. He stretched towards his nexus node and tried once more to pull the energy from within the core towards the location where he felt that tickle.

Then finally, he felt something snap within him.

It was small, a re-alignment of something intangible behind his navel, but it was there. He marvelled at what had just happened, feeling his spirit somehow strengthen slightly.

He sent his Magic sense deep within himself and saw that from out of his mind nexus node, thin tendrils of power were weaving their way up into his body. One tiny tendril, barely noticeable, had just reached something in the space between his navel and hip.

Tendrils wove in intricate patterns throughout his body, just as the veins on his arms protruded when tensed, these veins of magic ran throughout him. His Spirit nexus now pulsed with power, and Liam wondered what effect it might have on his corporeal form.

He’d heard of this nexus node in Glitnir’s halls. Bragi had spoken of the three spirits only once, years before, yet Liam remembered the conversation clearly. The three spirits of the soul. The father, the mother and the animal. That was how he thought of them, though Bragi called them something else. The Fylgja, or animal spirit, was the one he’d just discovered, and he recalled the warning Bragi had given him.

“This is your animal spirit and relates to the Spirit Nexus of your core. When attuned, you will move faster, become stronger and dodge and strike more nimbly than ever before. The Fylgja is dangerous because it is fickle, and if you are weak, it can take over, turning you into a beast. If you cage it, it eventually breaks out and will take you over completely. Tame it and care for it, and you shall become vastly powerful. This is the final spirit that grants immortality.”

The animal spirit node. My Fylgia. He thought, marvelling at the sensation. There was something there, something that called to him, but too faintly for him to hear.

It was not yet open to him, but he was aware of it now. But what of my Dis? He wondered. Where is my mother spirit?

The question went unanswered as Liam felt a small part of the node’s strength rush through his limbs. The sensation was pleasant, as though he had woken from a deep slumber to a long stretch.

Unsure what the change might mean, Liam tried slamming his hands into the wall, hoping to create a noticeable crack or anything that would show some progress.

He hammered a fist into the wall, and when it didn’t make any impact or cause pain, he bared his teeth and set about the task. After what seemed like a day of work, he had made no impact. Whatever his spirit was formed from either was too weak, or the material too strong for him to alter.

Liam began pacing the room, and quickly discovered that his position relative to the Dias was unchanging. All this time, he’d been striking the floor. The thought made him want to laugh, but he held himself back, remembering the horrific pain that came when he tried to breathe.

He could walk only three yards from the object. No more. He ran his hands over himself to make sure that nothing was binding him to the object.

There, on the back of his neck, was a small round object. No larger than a coin.

He dug at it with a fingernail, gently, trying to prise it off. It refused to come until he got fed up and pulled with considerable strength.

He fell to his knees as the feelings of emptiness filled him once more. His body spasmed on the ground, helpless.

Time passed as he convulsed on the floor, trying desperately not to scream. Fortunately, the sensations faded faster than they had before.

As he got to his feet once more, he thought he heard something.

What was that? He thought, staring at the ceiling. I thought I heard…

A reddish glow entered the chamber as a portal cracked open. Through it, a demon entered. Liam backed away from the monster desperately as it slammed a pole-catch forward, snapping a metallic collar about Liam’s throat.

He felt a snap, and it melded with the coin on the back of his neck, locking him in place.

Liam collapsed in pain as the demon activated a rune on the staff. His scream causing the Demon to laugh. As the demon dragged Liam’s spirit from his prison, it said something in a foul and broken language. The words burning Liam's ears as he listened.

He kicked, trying to hook his foot on the frame, but the demon barely stopped as his tenuous toe-hold was broken.

He searched about, desperate to find something that would allow him to escape or fight back. It was then that he saw where he was.

The chamber he’d just emerged from was one of hundreds that lay evenly spaced on a platform of obsidian. The platform stretched as far as the eye could see, reflecting the glare of the red sky. Even in his spirit form, Liam could feel the heat emanating from the ground, and he wondered briefly how this Demon could stand it.

Beyond the field of spherical chambers, Liam saw large and imposing structures rising into the sky. All looked to have been constructed by a malevolent will. Spikes covered their surfaces, and a deathly green glow coming from within deeply fortified windows.

He felt more than saw the staircase as the demon dragged him upwards. Liam twisted to see where the monster was taking him and nearly made the mistake of breathing once more.

Ahead was the grandest of the structures. A massive formation of defensive-works that rose high into the sky.

The Demon barely paused as other Demons made way for it. They stared in interest at Liam as he passed, some licking their lips or drooling with barely restrained hunger.

They saw him as nothing but food. Was he about to become a Demons supper?

The demon dragged him onwards, his spirit immune to the impacts that the stairs would have left on his mortal form. He could see that the numbers of other demons, however, were increasing.

They must be approaching the Dining hall. He fought in a panic, trying desperately to free himself of the pole-catch. A rune flared on its surface as the Demon dragging him glanced back with a leer. A sudden jolt was followed by waves of pain that shot through Liam.

The bastard is enjoying this. He thought.

Two great doors of black metal opened with a scream and Liam found himself dragged into the centre of a packed throne room.

The Demon holding him pushed him before it, forcing him to the floor. Liam tried to resist as he saw the figure on the throne, but another shock of pain washed through him, and he collapsed to his face.

Before him, sitting on a living throne crafted from the bodies of hundreds of humans was a devil.

He tried not to look at the creature, but morbid fascination drove Liam to turn his head upwards and he felt the death of hope.

The Demon King said something, though for Liam it was as though his soul was being flayed. A dome appeared over him, and he suddenly understood the Demon's words.

“You are the mortal who defeated Vel’Cazrov?”

It took Liam’s mind a moment to understand who the Devil meant. The pain from another shock of the pole catch did nothing to help.

“Defeated?” Liam tried to speak and found he could. A deep and relieved breath flooded his lungs. “If you mean the Dread-Queen, she killed me!”

The doors opened once more, and Liam was shocked to see the Dread Queen, bound just as he was, being dragged forward.

“Then why is she here, and in my soul-vault?” The Devil thundered.

The Dread Queen squirmed. “Prince Asmodeus! I beg you! Release me and allow me vengeance!”

He shrieked in rage at her impudence, and Liam watched as the Demon guarding her evaporated in a spray of blood and mist. His place was immediately taken by another Demon, and it shocked Vel’Cazrov mercilessly.

“You dare to speak? After you failed? After you lost the Pyramid? Your faction in the Realm of the Damned is already destroyed. Belphegor’s Sect has already claimed your lands. While your plans were worthy of my momentary attention, your inability to carry them out has cost me greatly.”

“I have more plans, Great Devil. The mortal realm…” She begged.

Liam was impressed that she could speak through the pain.

“The mortal realm will fall to our God, whether or not our plotting succeeds. You offered a minor victory, not a decisive one. Your failure is complete. Already Mammon’s minions have conquered two mighty kingdoms in the Mortal realm. All you offered was power and the potential to create a new front in the war.”

He growled. “Even now, my agents in that realm are proving more effective.”

“I can bring you souls!” She pled, as the demon holding her shocked her desperately, hoping to avoid the fate of its predecessor.

“And that should make me value you?” He demanded. “You cost me greatly, and brought me only one soul. You failed to conquer the tournament, and now our enemies are strengthened. Worse, you have brought upon us the attentions of beings more powerful than you can comprehend.”

He leaned forward, and a mist surrounded her. Her form became corporeal once more, and acids ate into her flesh. After a while listening to her screams of pain, he cast a spell to capture her soul once more. Satisfied for the moment, Asmodeus turned his attention back to Liam.

Liam looked on in disgust as the Demon Queen’s body melted. Part of him wondered how he’d slain the Queen. He’d heard the clang of metal on metal, and as he searched his memory, he realized she had been unarmed. He had pulled her dagger from his neck, not her. She had been at his mercy.

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The clang he heard must have been Camwennan and Lehat Chereb meeting within her neck.

Unaware of the regard of the Demon prince, Liam grinned in triumph. At least the Scots were victorious. His sacrifice had not been in vain.

“You have the gall to smile in my presence!” The demon’s gaze seemed to penetrate Liam’s form. “A Demi-ascended already? How?”

Liam was silent. I’m not about to ans…

Another shock came from the pole-catch, and Liam hastily amended his previous thought. “A dungeon. I was in a dungeon.”

“Where?”

“Vanaheim.” Liam gasped. The demon shocked him for good measure, and Liam twisted his head up to glare at the creature. It stared back at him with unblinking black eyes, shocking him again.

“How did you get there? The Pact between your ‘god’ and the Lord Arch-demon prevents any aid from reaching the Mortal Realms.”

“A quest! A quest for a harp I gained in battle. Bragi’s Harp!” He screamed, shuddering as another wave of pain swept over his spirit.

The Demon Prince pondered this information for a while before changing the subject. “How did you defeat the Queen?”

“Luck!” Liam screamed as the demon controlling his collar sent another wave of pain through his body. “She killed me when my final strike took her head.”

“Defiance? Here?” A demon stepped forward from the side of the throne. “His soul is strong, Great Devil. We can power many spells with it.”

Asmodeus grunted. “Hide him amongst the other soul-vaults. The arbiter must not know.”

In a flash, the bubble that allowed Liam to breathe and speak disappeared, causing him to experience the extreme agony of the memory of his body once more.

When he finally emerged from his torment, Liam found himself back in a spherical chamber. It was not the same as he’d awoken within. The dais here was lower. Why would they bother changing where I am imprisoned? The demon said something about hiding me, but from what?

He knew he’d rather not find out.

Liam desperately searched the circular room for an exit or anything that looked out of place. It wasn’t a large chamber, only a few yards across, and he could feel no doors within it. Searching the platform, he found a series of runes carved into it. They were jagged, and completely unlike anything he’d discovered in his brief experience with Rune crafting on Vanaheim.

He spent a long time inspecting them but discovered nothing. While he could see similar patterns within the work,

Without warning, a loud scraping boom echoed in the chamber, causing Liam to freeze. The sound came again, and small pellets of rock fell from the ceiling to land on him. He raised his hands defensively as a talon as long as he was tall slammed through the roof of the cave, spilling light and fresh air into the room.

He looked up, as more talons tore the roof open in a fountain of rock fragments and dust, spilling a vivid red light into the room.

Liam couldn’t move. His terror at the sight of the claws was foremost in his animalistic brain. He knew he should run or cower, but his body refused to move.

The claws retracted from the hole they’d made, and beyond, Liam could see the void of the sky. But it wasn’t the sky he knew. The stars here glinted more brightly than before, and instead of the blues and purple blackness of Earth, this was blood red.

Where in God’s name am I? He wondered.

A loud voice boomed through the room, terrifying Liam more than the Talons.

Liam winced in fear. Asmodeus! Though he couldn’t understand the words, no other demon in this place could speak with that power.

The chamber shook as though it feared the speaker’s wrath, and Liam cowered next to the Dais, desperate to hide.

As he cowered, taloned claws descended once more, ripping the roof of the soul-vault clean off.

Then a response came. A voice so powerful that its echoes made Liam scream in agony. Then he breathed in deeply so he could scream again, not caring that the previous pain had returned.

The power that the second voice carried was tearing his soul apart!

He didn’t hear so much as sense the ancient being’s rage. It must be ancient. No ephemeral being could comprehend the strength of the fundamental hate with which it regarded being forced to come this place by such inferior beings.

Liam realized then that the rumble of anger was directed at him. He cowered in fear as the massive claws cam into sight again

Delicately, the talons reached down and seized him up. While they bit into his spirit, they did not cause him pain. The pain came from the metal coin on the back of Liam’s neck sent shock waves of agony through him. This extreme agony blended harmoniously with the other agonies wracking his body as, unthinking, he tried to draw a breath.

The voice spoke once more, and through his internalized screams of agony, Liam could hear the voice demand reparation for its time. There was something else there too, and Liam felt the coin detach from his neck, falling onto the gargantuan palm that raised him from his captivity. Liam picked it up and hurled it away from himself, sending it clear of the dragon's palm to fall out of sight to the obsidian below.

He felt his soul repairing, and his body reform once more. The titanic magic of his saviours’ words coalescing about him. He only sensed it, feeling a deep awe at the level of power and intricacy of the magic he was experiencing through his magic senses.

His mind could not comprehend the volume and velocity of power being used to restore his corporeal form. As he watched, the resurrection spell covered his spirit in firm, warm skin. His skin.

The first voice came back scornfully. “You wish me to pay? For a sacrifice at my altar?”

Liam could see it now, as the pain of his saviour’s voice faded.

He held back a scream as he saw it. Asmodeus, in his true form.

The Devil was a creature from nightmares, a creature the church warned of in sermons, councils and masses all over the Christian world.

Forty yards away, the Prince of Hell stood. It had the legs of a goat, though as thick as a hut and nearly four times as tall. These mighty pillars rose many meters to a massively muscled torso, covered in millennia of scars.

Six great and furred arms extended from it, clutching a variety of weapons and claws that hurt Liam’s eyes to look at. Runes covered its body in scarification tattoos that formed runic sigils. Around these, great slabs of a liquid black armour covered the rest of its body.

Its head was human, though hideous beyond anything he’d encountered before. Even Lepers would look better than this thing. He thought with a shudder.

If Liam were to guess, it stood ten or fifteen times the height of a grown man. Around it, hundreds of creatures gathered. They ranged in size from giants that were eight times its height, to men Liam’s own size. With no semblance of organisation Liam could detect, the Demons were preparing for battle.

Two great wings rose from the Asmodeus’ back, and he spread them wide to cast shadows over dozens of structures similar to the one where Liam had escaped. It was one of the most intimidating things he’d ever seen.

Out of reflex, Liam glanced up at the creature that carried him and almost screamed once more.

Above him, head tilting proudly on an elegantly arching neck, Liam saw the eyes of the Dragon-Lord Traxiss regard him with disgust.

A thought intruded into his mind with the force of a falling mountain, knocking him flat to the Dragons palm with its power. You are the human? You are the one I seek? It sifted through his memories without regard for Liam’s mind until it reached something.

Hmm. You have his look to you as well, though all you creatures look alike. I am Traxiss. You may call me Lord-Dragon Traxiss if you are forced to speak of me. You will be returned safely, as was agreed.

Liam’s mind was struggling under the pressure. Sure in the knowledge that the continued healing from the Dragon was sustaining his life, Liam tried to respond.

He gasped in a breath, gagging as the taste of rot filled his newly reformed lungs. He coughed as blood poured out of his nose and dragged in another croaking breath. If he had anything in his stomach, he would have thrown it up on the Dragon’s hand. Not wishing to enrage the creature, Liam struggled to suppress his nausea.

Looking up, Dragon-Lord Traxiss was beyond anything Liam had seen before. Larger than the Keep and Bailey at Douglas. The space from his shoulder to hip could fit the cathedral at Glasgow twice over.

“Answer Dragonling, or my Lord will make you answer. You are no match for us here, in our realm!”

Reptilian eyes, larger than Liam was tall, turned to stare balefully at the Demon before it.

Lowering its voice from the painful to the mere uncomfortable, the Dragon spoke. “You ask, by what right?” Traxiss’ voice was low and threatening. “The right of might! You have taken something that belongs to me, creature. Remember your place.”

“The system does not allow mere immortals like you to challenge the likes of I, Traxiss, Celestial Dragon Lord of this Spiral. You exist in one space, fool. I in many. If your master wishes his demise, bring him and see how you are rewarded.”

It spoke in an archaic cant, older even than Merlin or Bragi, but still understandable. Liam wondered how he could comprehend its words, but then he felt the pressure of the surrounding magic. Somehow, the Dragon had cast multiple spells without breaking off its conversation.

Liam now sat within a bubble of clean air, the dome about him muting some of the sound, though it was still all terribly loud.

Liam sucked in deep breaths of air, grateful that he could now relax. Somehow, the Dragon had changed the world around them, and Liam could speak again. He coughed piteously, and the Dragon looked down at him.

“This… Asmodeus creature claims I am wrong, that you are not the creature who took part in the Tournament of which I am Arbiter?” It asked.

Liam looked up, knowing that the words he spoke would either seal his doom or free him. “I swear to God that I am Liam Lamberton. He who died at the Tournament where you were Arbiter.”

With that, a golden glow lit up the dragon’s hand.

The Demon, however, was not about to let him go. “Even a Dragon such as you requires permission to leave this realm. Return the mortal to his place! You know the rules. No servant of the enemy may come here!”

The Dragon gave a roar, which caused Liam once more to scream as power ripped through his mind and soul.

Somehow Liam knew it had replied, and that its shame at being drawn to deal with such an insignificant world grated at it.

“SERVANT?” Smoke billowed from the dragon’s nostrils. “You think I serve some lowly system god? I, who serve the system and have since before this universe was born. You know nothing, devil.”

“I am Traxiss, who was a Harbinger of the system to many worlds, who brought hope and despair in equal measure? I who have ascended to become a Celestial? I whose purview is the entire spiral arm of a galaxy where you insects deign to reside?”

“This mortal is protected by compact with the system, and in this matter, I am it's arbiter. Your minion failed you by bringing your altar to my tournament field." The Dragon turned its head in disgust. "If you seek recompense for your kingdom’s destruction at my talons and teeth, take it from that… thing.”

It gestured with one claw towards the spirit of the Queen. Liam had not noticed her, but looking over at where Traxiss pointed, he saw another Soul-vault had been torn asunder. Within, the Queen writhed in agony.

“I have seen into her mind and know what she - and you - have done, Demon. She shall stay within this realm, but not alive. No. She will become essence.”

“Nooooo!” The Queen wailed plaintively. Her grating voice choked with fear. “I beg you, Great Dragon. Spare me. I know not what I did!”

“You beg? You? Who sought to break the rule of the system?” The Dragon’s voice took on a musing tone. “And you almost succeeded, for if any Arbiter from Earth had attended, the souls you destroyed would have been lost.”

“I am no mere Dragon from the realms of God or of your weak creator, Demon. I am more, and can do more than you can imagine. The essence of those souls was collected, and they will be restored as promised. For attempting that act alone, you deserve torment beyond your imaginings, but I am merciful.” Traxiss granted. “Your soul-death will suffice.”

The Queen’s pleas intensified, before being silenced by a flick of the Dragon’s finger. With a burst of light, the Queen’s spirit evaporated in one last scream of horror and pain. The Dragon then turned back to Asmodeus.

“This mortal is to be resurrected and returned to its own realm. I demand he receive recompense for your foolish actions. The system made and bound an agreement. Your minion tried to break it, and with your knowledge. As I am its arbiter, I have determined your guilt.”

“You too have tried to break the system, Asmodeus. Though your infraction is minor compared to the Queen's. You shall grant this mortal anything he desires. Question me no more if you value your life.”

Asmodeus scoffed. “What could a mortal desire that I must grant it? Anyway, what is this tournament to you, Dragon?”

The Dragon, tested for the last time, erupted into a flurry of motion. Talons flashed forward, and hundreds of demons in the horde turned to mist. His tail flashed, slaying more, and his wings beat once, tearing the wings off those demons foolish enough to take to the air as it moved.

Traxiss spoke one word, and the ground cracked with a terrific scream of tortured rock. The sky brightened so much; Liam could feel his skin blister. Demons screamed, fleeing their master, as he sought to shelter from the scorching light beneath his thick wings.

He found no shelter there, as his wings were torn asunder. With another word, Traxiss hurled a coruscating beam of death towards the Demon-Prince.

Asmodeus barely had time to register he had been attacked before his body withered and convulsed. Energy on a scale that Liam had never - and likely would never - comprehend burned over Asmodeus’ skin. The movement of power was so great that for a moment it blinded his magic sense. Liam watched in awe and fascination as the Dragon’s magic pulled the very attributes from the Demon’s twisted form, leaving him a husk of the creature he was.

Sensing the weakness of their flailing master, other demons attacked Asmodeus without hesitation, bearing him to the ground before they too fell victim to the continuing barrage of magic emanating from the Dragon.

“BACK!” Traxiss roared, and the Demon host withdrew to cower in fear.

The coruscating beam cut off, and the Demon Asmodeus collapsed, greatly weakened. The Dragon turned its gaze upon Liam, and he suddenly felt as insignificant as the Dragon thought him to be. “You may take this kill as recompense if you wish it. I, too, owe you some small favour. It was I who accepted the responsibility to ensure the rules were maintained. To be the Arbiter. Now, let this settle things.”

Liam’s body was weakened, but his desire for greater strength remained. He stood, despite the immense pressure of the Dragon’s gaze, and looked back. “No.”

“No?” Traxiss asked. His tone conveyed curiosity rather than anger.

“I would rather ask three questions of you, Lord-Dragon!”

“You would negotiate your price, too?” It asked, curious what kind of being would be so bold. “Even after you saw what I did to Asmodeus?”

“If there is one thing I have learned of the system, Lord, it is that we all have a choice. Whether it is the one that these Demons made, or that which I make. Choice is power. But to know the result is greater power still!”

“You seek power? From me?” Traxiss thought for a moment. “I offer you power in the form of the Demon’s core, and the experience of slaying him. This opportunity may not come again!”

“I know it.” Liam said. “Though I might become powerful, I will not know what to do with that power. If I am to grow, I need to learn, not to grow strong. And you are by far the strongest being I have met.”

The Dragon mused for a while. “You speak like the originator of your line. If not for his interest in you, I would not have bothered accepting the system's request to be an arbitrator! Once again, Myrradin was right. This was interesting. Very well, it is an acceptable exchange. Three questions, no more.”

Liam froze, not out of fear, but out of shock. The originator of his line. “Merlin?” Liam’s mind bubbled with questions now, though his racing mind refused to allow him to speak more.

The Dragon let out a huff. “Yes. Your ancestor. He said he met you. Myraddin is the name I knew him by when we first met. Then he was much weaker and wished me to make fog. FOG!” The dragon laughed, and his mirth set Liam’s teeth rattling, despite the protective barrier surrounding him.

Liam nodded gratefully, and the dragon prompted him. “What are thine other two questions, Liam Lamberton?”

Liam’s brow furrowed until he realized he had asked the dragon one of his questions already. “I shall not ask them until I am returned.”

The Dragon let out a snort of blue flame. “Just like his great-sire. Very well, scion of my friend. I shall return to you. But only after I fulfil the Systems’ requirements.”

With that, the Arbiter turned and began tearing through the other spherical structures surrounding them. From within him, essence flowed forth, and spirits coalesced within the chambers. Within, Liam saw hundreds of spirits. These must be the damned that had been slain to fuel the pyramid.

With a great breath, the Dragon cast a spell so powerful that Liam was almost overcome as he felt the energies through his magic sense. The spirits upon the dais in the middle of each soul-vault stirred as their corporeal bodies regrew.

Traxiss watched for a moment, ensuring the process of resurrection would complete, and then with a leap, he took to the sky.

With one last roar, the Celestial Dragon Lord flapped his wings.

One moment Liam was standing upon the Dragon’s palm, bathed in the red glow of the Demon-Princes realm, and the next…

The world changed.

Bright blue skies surrounded him, and the soft light of the sun warmed his skin. The bubble surrounding him disappeared as air whipped around him.

Liam had to drop to his hands and knees to hold his position until he recalled his magics and activated his telekinesis with a soft song. Suddenly, the wind about him dropped in intensity and he could walk to the edge of Traxiss’ outstretched palm without risk of being swept away.

Far below him, Liam could see the river Clyde, and the Leven. As they grew closer to the tournament field, even more detail emerged, and he whooped in excitement as he spied Glasgow in the distance, and Dumbarton Castle high upon its craggy outcrop.

The Dragon circled, and when Liam looked back, it even seemed to grin.

Looking back, Liam could now make out the Tournament field, and the great mounds of dead that had been left upon the ground.

Traxiss dropped into a cleared section of the field and Liam realized something. He was still naked.

Furiously, Liam thought of a way to avoid asking the dragon another question. He only had two remaining and didn’t wish to squander them. “Please put me down upon the Pyramid, Lord-Dragon Traxiss. I must gather my belongings.”

The dragon nodded, and strode across the field, scattering surprised Scotsmen who scrambled out of its way.

Liam felt himself being lifted through a telekinesis spell onto the surface of the platform. “I thank you Lord-Dragon Traxiss.”

Liam found the corpse of his old body and felt tears well up as he regarded his form. He looked so forlorn. Reaching down, Liam closed his own eyes. “Thank you.” He whispered and stripped his corpse. He left the undergarments intact, as he had no desire to bury his own corpse without clothing.

He’d fashion or buy new ones later.

Activating telekinetic field, Liam cleaned the blood from his gear and donned it. The dragon looked at him in interest. “I have not seen Aesium employed in such an interesting way.” It said. “You are a Master Blacksmith too?”

“Only a Journeyman.” Liam said, though with a hint of pride. “When I discovered the properties of the metal, I knew it would work well with this design.”

The dragon huffed. “I would be glad for you to make me something similar if you find the time. Aesium is common enough, though I like the way it glows.” Liam could hear a twinge of jealousy in the Dragons voice.

“Thank you, Lord-Dragon Traxiss. I would be honoured, though if you have better smiths at hand, I would be glad to provide the designs. Surely a mere journeyman’s work is not fitting for a powerful Celestial Dragon-Lord like you.” Liam spoke carefully, avoiding any suggestion of a question.

The dragon gave a huff of pleasure at the compliment. “Then I shall send for your designs when the Tribulation is done. For this, you may call me Lord Traxiss if you wish.”

Liam gave a low bow. “I thank you Lord Traxiss. It is an honour.”

“What are your last two questions then, boy?” He asked, agitated at being thanked by a mere mortal.

Liam pondered for a moment and then asked. “How can I resurrect someone?”

The dragon laughed. “You turn down a Demon Prince’s core and the experience of slaying a creature more powerful than you for a question like that?”

“Aye.” Liam affirmed. “A question like that! We have lost too many people in our wars, too many good people, including our King. If you can so many back with ease, there must be a way I can learn the spell too!”

The dragon shook his head. “You cannot. Not until you have mastered your own immortality, and even then, you must have some grasp of essence. Essence is the name given to magic in its purest form. It powers the greatest spells and many of the abilities of powerful items. But it is not for mortals, or even most immortals, to use.”

The dragon shook his head. “But that was not your question. You asked how ‘you’ can resurrect someone.”

“Your ultimate sire told me a tale long ago from your world. It is a tale of an object that can grant life to death.”

“Myrradin called it the Sangreal. With this item, he could resurrect anyone, even if they had been dead for years. All he needed was their sacred heart. If you find the Sangreal, and place the heart of one who died within, their body shall be resurrected.”

“What is your last question?”

Liam smiled. Below, on the field of death, he could see the banner of Lord Douglas approaching.

“What steps must I take to be as powerful as you?”

The Scots turned as one to regard the Dragon, who laughed uproariously at small gleaming figure who stood atop the Black Pyramid of Dunbartonshire.