The Demons were trying to set a foothold in this world's society for thousands of years. In the last two, with the absence of all deities, they finally managed to. Demon summoners, those who pierced the already threadbare fabric of this pocket dimension and ushered the Demons into this world. Demon cultists, those who flock around summoner and summoned alike, lacking the skill to become a summoner, and hoping to earn scraps of power. Demon worshipers, those who mistook the Demons for their deities. The three types were horrible but the latter was the most dangerous of them all.
The system, sensibly, offered no help for those who engaged in demon summoning. They gained no Experience, none of their Perks worked on the summoning rituals and bindings, although Attribute values were too intrinsically tied to the person to be blocked from providing aid. There was no such thing as a [Demon Summoner] Class. I sometimes think it would be easier to flag them if it was the case. A Demon summoner could be anyone. the [Blacksmith]. The [Court Wizard]. Though they gravitated more toward Magical classes because of the Attributes required to summon strong demons.
The Demon worshipers were the worst because the Demon Lords, divine in nature (they had Divine Cores), could grant power and magic to the worshipers. What the System denied them, their Demon deities supplied. That's why they were so dangerous. It was like having rogue [Priests] who were actively engaged in dooming the world.
Though all of them damned their souls, the worshipers had a shot at not becoming soulstuff-fodder back in the Demon realm. Demon society worked much like a megacorporation that spanned most of the multiverse, and they rewarded loyalty. Also, they didn't offer dental. Or any insurance, for the matter.
When one out of every eight or so people who died in the conflict following the activation of the Mithril Moon were among those three categories, here in the heart of Ackerton, I knew I wouldn't make a dent in the problem.
I spent the next few hours playing a match-3 game of getting the body, soul, and morals aligned to allow a person to live once more. I told nobody outside my inner circle what my criteria for bringing them back was. When we reached the mark of wo thirds of the people resurrected, I noticed a change. From then on, at each jubilous family that were reunited with their reborn loved ones, another scowled deeper as the infiltrated diabolists noticed their fellows were not coming back.
I marked each of those scowling for later investigation. Not a covert one, not a subtle one. I would only attempt to shield the innocent from the growing paranoia and envy that would surely follow and bring about a slew of false accusations.
Because nothing brightened the day of someone neck-deep in shit than to see their fellows' heads go down.
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I had about ten people left to bring back when Kasumi returned. She handed me the empty ring that once held twenty-seven Mithril Moons. They were now all hovering above Ackerton and surroundings, covering an area roughly twice that of the District of Columbia back in mom's homeworld.
I stood up, the Living Silk of my gown straightening itself as I walked toward the [King]. The man had stood by my side, solemnly witnessing the "ritual of rebirth" as some called it. Neither the sadness nor the mirth of the people broke his countenance. "Your Divinity," he dipped his head. The people in his retinue bowed deeply. "At ease." I smiled, then shifted to mental communication. I saw the corners of the Death Princess crack upward in her naturally deadpanning expressionless face. With an effort of will and a modest expenditure of EP, I marked all of the people I wanted dead. We were at war and the fastest way to clear them of all suspicion was to put their souls through the wringer of rebirth. Beholden to the Goddess, they spirits would hold no secrets. Not even those boons of falsehood granted by their demon overlords. The first resurrection was free of any penalties but the sickness of the body. Should any require another ticket back to the land of the living in less than 12 years of the last one, then they would lose a level. These people would feed the [Assassins] some Exp at the expense of a little pain. They would earn a clean slate afterward and that might be enough. Or not. I was playing the Goddess. The fetters of morality were very, very loose to me. It was not even a shifting goalpost, just a blurred line like a streak of sand recently tossed into the ocean. Without further delay, I marked everyone who had a negative reaction to me bringing back the dead. Apricot fell into her own shadow and the lighting of the square got saturated. The darks became impossible to see without proper augmentation and grays became more evident, making the illuminated areas pop out. People started dying left and right. I dragged their souls to me, emulating the power of the [Anima Incarnator] Perk that was currently locked. "Souls and bodies of the deceased, gather around me!" I chanted, using [Saintess Magic] to make my wish true. As people started to die, panic settled in the square but I made everyone quiet down by the sheer pressure of my Attribute-sapping auras. Corpses dripping blood flew toward me, leaving streaks of droplets on the recently cleaned square. Souls flocked around as I played a tug-of-war to keep them from being dragged to the Demon Realm. Those were unequivocally corrupted to the point of them having a claim on these souls. I bleached them down to their sparks until the pull disappeared. They lost thousands of years of personal perfection and evolution, the Karma and Dharma accumulated through hundreds of lives. These sparks would be reborn as plants or insects or other type of mundane vermin. Most probably krill because a world with a billion people had quadrillions of krill. Reborn as Krill. From the lowest crustacean in the ocean to the world's strongest. A monster evolution progression LitRPG. Yeah, sounds legit. * ---------------------------------------- * MDW: I changed the Mithril Moons' light effect duration after absorbing a Fire attack to seconds, down from minutes. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ---------------------------------------- * A week later. A new sport sprung around among the [Mages] of Ackerton. Shoot a fireball at one of the Mithril Moons, count how many seconds it stayed lit up. Whoever had the best average after five attempts won. Misses counted as zero and hitting a target that small 500 meters away from the ground was already proof of some mastery. This game was allowed to be played only during the day. The Mithril orbs shone bright enough to be visible even at noon. During the night, it was a warning system for the [Guard]. All of them carried mass-produced firebolt wands now that were tuned for long-range and accuracy in detriment of damage. They used it to shoot a firebolt at the nearest Moon, alerting people and other [Guards] that they had trouble in that area and needed backup. Ackerton castle now had a new tower, one that was tall enough to see all twenty-seven Mithril Moons floating over the city and surrounding territories. Meanwhile, I saved my [Priests] the trouble of an airship ride or to wait for me to go back to Clovehaven and brought them back to life here. This extra contingent of trustworthy personnel was key in conducting my inquisition around the city. We vetted three million people in these seven days, in the most quick and gruesome way possible. We cordoned out the city's neighborhoods, killed every adult and teenager inside while sedating the children, then I would inquire the souls and bring them back to life. Kasumi, a lot of volunteer spellcasters, and all the [Priests] in the city became MP and divinity batteries to fuel my powers. Rinse, repeat, half a million people recycled each day, twenty hours of work, twenty-five thousand per hour, seven per second. The children that became orphaned in this holy purge were adopted by us. All the orphans not yet of age were. They would be brought back to Clovehaven with us and enrolled in the new Academy Daisy created for us. They would receive the best education possible, usually only reserved for Royalty. it would focus heavily on ethics, didactics, and governance. They would also be indoctrinated in the faith of the Matriarch. Our hope was that they would find employment either as tutors of the high echelons of the world, as priests in my Church, or as teachers in the Academies we would open or absorb in the future. Hundreds of millions of MP spent on this project. Mom's stock of MP regeneration pills took a dip for the first time in thousands of years. MP we could've spent breaking the curse. It would put a dent on the amount required but making sure Ackerton was clean of demonic corruption was more important. It was not the demons that needed a foothold in this world now. It was the forces of good that needed a foothold on the Demon Continent. * ---------------------------------------- * With the entire city scrubbed of demonic presence, influence, diabolists, or demon paraphernalia, only one spot remained to be cleansed. The palace complex. Deep underneath it, a group of people, all clad in black combat clothes, all of these the same, that left no skin exposed gathered. It was a well-ventilated hall made of stone bricks and an arched roof, dimly illuminated by magic globes. About a hundred females of several species and one man. Faint whispered conversations went on, until the single male stood up. "Silence, sisters. The Master speaks." A tradition that dated back five thousand years. A sacred duty, the shadow defenders of the realm. What started as only a mercenary group, intend to control the structures of power in a long-forgotten Kingdom, now transformed into something close to religion. Each of the people present held the [Assassin] Class or one of its variants. Or at least had all the relevant Perks. The man, powerfully built but with features inscrutable, nodded. "My daughters," he addressed them as such but only one was bound to him by blood. "We were requested by our benefactor to prove our loyalty. To prove that while we are all mired in death, we are still uncorrupted. Have faith in our Goddess and let us submit ourselves to this trial. May all of us meet each other on the other end. I shall go first." Most of the girls considered that man their father. Orphans, dispossessed, they were taken in and promised a place to belong, to be free of persecution, and to share the companionship of their sisters and the tough love of The Master. Their task was a thankless one. To wiled death as a force for good. To fight for those who feared them. To walk the footsteps of the legendary Death Princess, the First Hero. One of the Goddess' reincarnations. They all sensed when The Master placed a [Death Contract] on himself. They tensed and some even fought back tears. It was a test of faith. Suddenly, a white bone spear with a spiral horn as its blade erupted from his chest. None of them saw who attacked, who killed their leader and protector. The spear vanished and the Contract did too. They all knew what happened. Death had been dealt. A mark had been {Assassinated}. The contract had been collected. Before the body could hit the ground, two of them were already holding him, one on each arm. Blood poured down from the corpse. A few sobs and whimpers echoed in the chamber. Then golden light erupted from underneath his black clothes, the gaps in the fabric unable to hold the glow. The fountain of blood ceased. The Master gasped for air. "I am worthy," the man roared. "Fear not, daughters. I am alive." A miracle. By now, they should be inured to it. They worked with the Goddess from the shadows, keeping anyone from escaping the quarantine, from avoiding the purge. Everyone in the city died in the Goddess' arms and was granted a new life in Her Light. The Master, their [King], was just another one who had proved their worthiness, his Faith unfaltering. He stood, a good patch of unblemished skin showing through the hole the brutalist spear had left in his clothes. Hundreds of threads which moved like snakes wove themselves into the bloodstained fabric, crisscrossing with one another and repairing the hole. "Who shall go next?" He asked. The [Princess], the real one, moved forward. "I'll go, father." Though she'd broken protocol, none reproached her. Once more, a [Death Contract] was placed on one of them. It was collected, and the [Princess] was reborn in the Faith. Many of the women assembled thought it was fitting that [Assassins] had a baptism by death. From the first among them. All of them took their turn. They felt the same pain their marks suffered, then gasped for air as they came back from the other side of the veil. They were merchants of death but still pure in heart. They were tools of justice. And now, breathing the same air of their deity, they felt their calling. The evil, the wicked, the heretic, the demons and the traitors who consorted with them. Those would be their targets. They were all [Princesses] if not in title and blood, in heart and purpose. Death princesses. The Master made a gesture and all the women but three knelt. None of them had failed to please the Goddess. Their clothes were mended but the blood they shed during their deaths remained. They were used to it, to the smell of death. Their kills weren't always clean. "My daughters, you fill me with pride and joy," the Master said, voice trembling with emotion. "The people we swore to protect has suffered for too long while our Goddess healed from the wounds, she suffered fighting one of the traitor deities. But now she graces us with her gifts, with her mercy, and with her presence. First among us, but still one of us. Now, she asks us to pledge this new life not in her honor but for the happiness of those who shall never see our faces. She promises us a third life, one free of the burden we chose to carry on our shoulders and hearts. "Stay true. Come and take the weapons the Goddess herself forged for us. Though these blades are cold, they shall sear the flesh of the Demons. A crate appeared by his side. The one called [Princess] both above and under the ground went first. Her sisters in death didn't resent her. She took the offered swords. > [Demonbane Wakizashi] - Level 0 > > Accuracy bonus: 30%. > > Damage: 6d10+25 (2x damage vs demons) > > Durability: 4,000 > > Hardness: 120 > > > Does not make any sounds. > > > Adds 35 points to Stealth and Appraise (each blade). > > > Reduces HP regeneration of wounded demons by 90%. > > > Each successful wound on a Demon lowers all their Physical Attributes by 2 for 1 hour (successful attacks from any Demonbane Wakizashi stack and reset this timer). > > > Repairs 10 durability per minute. > > > Can take the shape of a ring, earring, small pendant, or bracelet. Converting it back and forth takes 1 second. > > > Upon mental command, one blade can teleport to the vicinity of the other if they are closer than 100 meters apart and no magical barrier prevents teleportation. this effect works even under the range of a Goddess' Mithril Moon. > > > Earns 5% of the Experience its wielder gains (this does not reduce Exp awards) and levels up, gaining new Perks. > > > Soul-binds upon pickup. The [Assassin Princess] smiled underneath her mask, her eyes burning with religious fervor. The Goddess' message was clear. If the Master was their father (and the actual father, in her particular case), the Goddess was their mother. She longed to get out of the castle and kill something that wasn't pesky nobles. This was her chance to shine. To be worth of the title of new Death Princess.