Fish swam overhead, passing through sunbeams. Myrsvai sat himself down carefully, using a rock as support. Even in the water, an unassisted fall could spur pain back to life while his leg was only partially operating.

Suta and Owin immediately became enthralled by the fish, lights, and colors. In many ways, they were both like children.

Myrsvai wasn’t all that much older than most of the Nimble Hogs, but he felt every one of the years that separated him from Raif, Sanem, Potilia, and the others. He had suffered unlike anyone else, and they wouldn’t understand even if explained every agonizing detail.

Of course, he didn’t want them to understand. If anything brought Myrsvai back to a dungeon, it was to gain enough strength to prevent others from experiencing things like he had. Suta stopped in his tracks and also watched Owin. With their minds linked, occasional bits of information passively passed back and forth, unless anything was urgent.

Suta had just experienced the melancholy that had washed over Myrsvai, and Myrsvai for a brief moment, felt the joy Suta had felt upon rushing out of the secret toward the fish.

The familiar looked back.

I’m okay.

It was only a thought, and while Suta wouldn’t actually hear it word for word, he would get the impression and understand.

Owin launched himself up and snatched a fish right out of a school swimming above. He landed, bounced on the sand, and grinned as the fish squirmed in his grip. “I got one!”

“For what? You don’t need to eat,” Myrsvai said.

“The wandering boss will trade a fish for passage.”

“You don’t want to fight the boss?”

Owin looked thoughtfully at his fish. He sighed and let it go. “I don’t know.”

The freed fish swam quickly to rejoin its school. Suta tracked the fish and looked about ready to pounce, but finally relaxed.

Owin was, perhaps, the only person Myrsvai knew that could understand even part of his past. The little goblin had practically been fighting from the moment he woke up to his arrival at the Nimble Hogs. And even that hadn’t been as peaceful as promised.

Myrsvai still remembered the filthy, frazzled goblin telling the story of the Great Forest and Artivan in front of all the Nimble Hogs. His voice quivered with nerves and his hands constantly groped at his belt and knives. No matter how confident he acted, a single question, a single moment of uncertainty, seemed to unravel his whole facade.

“When did you start caring for mobs?” Myrsvai asked.

Owin appeared to droop with the question. “Artivan tried to tell me it was fine to kill mobs . . .” The goblin slowly meandered back toward Myrsvai.

Meanwhile, Suta crawled on top of a rock and sat cross legged. The familiar was ready for rest. Myrsvai could feel it. He had hoped Suta would stick around while his leg was being fixed, but sending the familiar back to the void would help Myrsvai’s energy, as Suta would also feel refreshed.

“It is fine to kill mobs.” Myrsvai lifted his staff. “Rest well, Suta.” He stomped the staff down, causing Suta to vanish in a flash of abyssal flames.

“What happened? Is he okay?”

“Suta is fine. After he has been summoned for a while, he can grow tired. He’ll rest until we’re ready to continue.” Myrsvai drank a mana potion and immediately felt its energizing effects.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Ask me when you have questions. You learn fast, I’ve noticed.”

Owin nodded slowly. His purple hair floated above his head, somehow staying mostly upright even as he moved within the water. Some small sections were sheared straight from enemy weapons.

Did Owin’s hair regrow like a human’s would? A fascinating thought that would certainly need to be recorded. His studies had already produced volumes on demons and the Abyss, expanding on what past scholars had found. At Chorsay’s request, the research wasn’t shared. Yet. Someday soon, when Myrsvai was a Shard Hero and Suta was back to his old self.

“When I was a mob, heroes killed me all the time,” Owin said. He sat straight across from Myrsvai, which felt a little odd. Most people would have found a spot beside him, looking out into the coral reef. Instead, Owin was staring directly at him.

“I am certain they did. It’s no different than you killing the chest guardian or the eels.”

“But if those eels remembered their deaths, would you be willing to kill them?”

Myrsvai laid his staff across his lap. His prosthetic leg was sticking straight out, nearly touching Owin. “I see what you mean.”

“There were some cultists on the second floor of the Great Forest that worshiped the Malignant Spirit. They were my first friends.” Owin adjusted his bag and fidgeted. “One of them cried when she was killed. That’s not just some mob that will respawn. She felt fear. Kidibose was terrified and crying for help.” Owin finally diverted his gaze. “I couldn’t help her, and I . . . I cut out her heart so I could trick the cult. She was so scared.”

Myrsvai clenched his jaw as Owin’s forest green eyes snapped back to him. There was nothing worse than fear. Pain, he could live with, but fear? No. It was crippling. “What’s your point?”

“I decided I didn’t want people to feel fear. If a mob can feel fear, I don’t want to be the one to cause it. If I was afraid back in the goblin caves, I hope the heroes killed me quickly.”

“What about those Void Nexus heroes?”

“Katalin and Ernie told me to keep them alive. To be better than them.” Owin scratched his head. His eyes looked all over, but especially up at the top of the small mountain hiding the cathkabel fortress. “Artivan never told me to get revenge. He had said that sometimes we need to forgive and forget. But sometimes we need to make people wish they never met us. I don’t know what that actually means.”

“Artivan was merciful. I would never say anything bad about that man. He didn’t understand the horror I had experienced, but he listened and comforted unlike any other. If he told you to make them regret meeting you, I don’t think he would want you to become a killer like that.”

Owin let his head droop. “I’ve killed a lot of heroes. I killed some innocent heroes outside Oriathria. I didn’t even hesitate.”

“Owin.” Myrsvai waited until the goblin looked at him again. “You were attacked. Defending yourself doesn’t make you a criminal. That’s why we stood by your side, and why I’m still with you now. Did Artivan think you were a bad person?”

Owin shook his head.

“Did Ernie or Katalin?”

Owin shook his head again.

“I’d hope not after the gift they sent you. After you get a shard, you need to relax. Spend time processing what you’ve been through. I should’ve given you more time before we left. It took me years to process what happened over the course of one day, and I still don’t know if I’m ready. You have been moving non stop, and I am certain you haven’t spent enough time thinking about any of it.”

Owin stared back at him. “Okay.” He scratched his head. “When I fight the smarter mobs, I try to kill them as fast as possible. Fast enough that they don’t feel fear before they die.”

“That’s kind of you.” Myrsvai opened his index and flipped to his spells tab. Opening a portal to the Abyss was far from the most difficult thing he could do, but there was still care in opening the right portal. At his level, he could summon just about any demon, other than the Lords, but if something went wrong, a malicious demon could slip out. He picked the Summon Demon spell, which immediately rushed into his staff, causing it to pulse with magenta energy.

“It’s kind, but it could get you killed,” Myrsvai said. “If you’re set on staying, then please wait while I summon Poti.”

“I’m not leaving.”

Myrsvai lifted his staff and smashed the butt onto the sand. The abyssal energy shot into the ground, snaking its way through the sand until it opened a portal off to the side.

“Then say hello to Potirantoma.”

The schemer demon groaned as she crawled out of the portal to the Abyss. Her small wings opened and flapped once as she fully emerged and cracked her neck. Half of her body was covered by abyssal fire, causing the water all around her to boil and bubble. The water did nothing to smother the magical flames.

Potirantoma adjusted her grip on her sledgehammer and immediately spotted Myrsvai’s leg. “Leg bothering y—” She looked around, only just realizing they were in the Ocean. “Why is there water around me?”

“Ocean Dungeon,” Myrsvai said.

“Finally time, eh?” She knelt, dropping her metal knee into the sand. “You’ll feel pain as I pull it out.”

“You don’t even need to ask what’s wrong?” Owin asked.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

A cloth wrap covered one of Potirantoma’s eyes while the other was hidden by a goggle, making her expressions unclear. The demon didn’t bother even glancing in Owin’s direction as she ripped the prosthetic free. “I’ve got work to do.”

***

Owin stared at the newly summoned demon. She was significantly shorter than Thalgodin had been. At most, she was barely taller than Artivan. Without hesitation, she had ripped Myrsvai’s leg free and went to work. The abyssal flames heated the metal, and before long, the whole prosthetic glowed.

“Where’s the bug?” she asked.

Master Demon

Potirantoma

Summon of Myrsvai Ryllsion

Level 43

“Resting,” Myrsvai said, his voice strained.

Poti brought her sledgehammer down on the leg, causing it to illuminate with magenta sparks. From Owin’s perspective, it simply seemed that she was beating the leg with her hammer while gripping it with tongs, but whatever she was doing was making strings of yellow energy form underneath the metal.

Myrsvai set the mana crystals on the ground beside her, which she immediately grabbed and smashed into the leg. She hammered one after the other, pushing them deep into the leg.

“I was hoping to see the little bug.” Poti smashed her hammer onto the metal again, causing sparks to flare. “Has he had a boon recently?”

“Thalgodin gave him one.” Myrsvai adjusted uncomfortably.

Owin sidled over and crouched beside the large demon. Much of her red skin was exposed, with only some sparing clothing that didn’t touch the metal or fiery parts of her body. Each strike appeared to be powered by some spell or ability that Owin had yet to see.

“What are you doing?”

“Fixing this broken thing.” Another strike caused the whole leg to glow. “Who made this for you?”

“I don’t remember. A local alchemist,” Myrsvai said.

“I told you—”

“I know, Poti.”

She grunted and smashed her hammer against it again.

“Is this similar to how alchemists make things?”

Potirantoma lifted the magenta leg. “Is this like alchemists? What do you think a schemer demon does?”

“Uh. Schemes?”

Poti cracked a smile. “Good answer, I suppose. Who is this?”

“Owin the goblin. An anomaly, according to the cathkabel. We just fought a priest.”

“Temikiel,” Owin said.

“Temikiel? That bastard. Are we mourning Thalgodin?”

“I ate Temikiel.”

Poti set the leg down, letting go of her tongs. “You what? You ate a cathkabel?”

“He has a habit of eating things,” Myrsvai said.

“It raises my wisdom.” Owin shifted uncomfortably under the demon’s gaze. Reading her thoughts was more difficult than usual with the wrap and single goggle covering most of her face. Her black horns curved out from her forehead, back over her scalp of shiny black hair that seemed to ignore the water. The metal fingers of her right hand twitched.

“From the Great Forest?”

“Yes,” Owin said.

“One of Ruvaine’s? I guess we’re allies then, aren’t we?”

Owin glanced at Myrsvai, but the magus’s pained expression gave Owin no information. “Doesn’t working with Myrsvai and Suta already make us allies?”

“No. That damn Hog alchemist makes a mockery of my craft.”

“Miya? She’s great!”

Poti chuckled. “Great? At what?”

“She’s nice,” Owin said.

“I’ll give her that.” Poti sat the leg upright. “What are you looking for, Myr? This thing was clogged with sand, ruining the last bits of functionality. Even without the sand, this thing was going to fail before the week was over. I don’t have the materials or workshop to build a new one, and you don’t have the favor to get an Abyssal leg without paying. What will it be?”

“I need it to respond properly so I can fight without Suta or a summon, if needed.”

Poti leaned on the leg, using it to support her as she looked over Myrsvai. “If you want to fight unhindered, you’d let me make that left arm.”

“You know that won’t happen.”

“Suta won’t open up until you do.” Poti grabbed the tongs and hefted the whole leg up. “You want this scrap acting like a normal leg? Give me an hour.”

“We’re going to be running into other heroes soon,” Myrsvai said.

“They’ll pass by. Do you need payment?” Owin asked.

“Payment?” Poti laughed. “If I required payment, a goblin wouldn’t be able to afford it. No, Myr’s debt grows with each task. At least he had these mana crystals. Makes it a lot cheaper.”

“Oh, don’t try to scare Owin. My debt was cleaned as soon as I helped you,” Myrsvai said. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I’ll call us even after this one.”

Potirantoma grunted and lifted the sledgehammer. It glowed with abyssal fire. “Fine.” She smashed it down, sending magenta sparks through the water. The mana crystals all pulsed in the leg, sending a wave of blue energy over the metal surface.

Owin sat and watched while Myrsvai napped. The magus fell asleep so quickly that Owin hadn’t even realized he was asleep until he looked back over. Watching Poti work was unlike anything Owin had seen, but he assumed it was similar to watching someone like Ernie work. If Owin had been able to see Ernie while he prepared the prazene antidote, he assumed it would have looked similar. After striking the leg a few more times with the hammer, Poti produced a sharp instrument that she used to dig inside the leg, causing it to spark and hum with energy. A few times, the energy came back up her instrument, shocking her arm with magic.

“Fuck me and the Revolting Imp!”

Myrsvai partially stirred.

“Who?”

Potirantoma turned just far enough to look at Owin through her goggle. Her brow furrowed a bit under the bandana wrapping. “My Lord.”

“Where are you from?”

“The Burning Workshop.” She jabbed the instrument back into the leg without looking. “I thought that was obvious.”

“I don’t know a lot about the Abyss. I thought everyone from there was evil.”

Poti twisted the tool, which caused a burst of Abyssal flames mixed with mana crystal energy. She swore again and grabbed the tool with her metal arm, forcing it back into the leg. “These damn crystals are trying to reject the Abyss. If I had a worker with me, they could take this apart.” She fully turned back to the leg and hunched over it as she twisted the tool again. Something cracked, causing a warm hum to emanate from within the leg.

“There it is.”

“What did you do?”

“Why? Are you trying to take my job? Do you even know how to hold a hammer?”

“Actually, I have a ham—”

“Stop distracting me.” She swapped back to the sledgehammer and smashed it against the ankle.

While she worked, Poti held the leg with the tongs and manipulated it with precision. Without adding any new materials, the leg quickly looked different, causing strands of wires to appear that allowed her to bend and move the leg in ways it wouldn’t before.

“Are you interested in alchemy?” Poti asked after about a half hour of working.

“Some of my friends are alchemists. That’s all I know.”

Poti looked at Owin for a second before pointing the sharp instrument at him. “Deficient Wizard? And you’re in a dungeon?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’d say. Your attributes are broken. I’d rather not agree with a cathkabel, but ‘anomaly’ might be the best thing to describe you. You were a mob?”

“I was until someone spilled an intelligence buff on me. It was permanent and . . .” Owin stuck out his arms. “Here I am.”

“Goblins, hobgoblins, and claverstan have an affinity for demons. Do you feel that?”

“Um.” Owin squinted. He tried to think as hard as he could, cycling through as many words as he had learned. “I don’t know what that word means.”

She jabbed the instrument closer. “Connection. Goblins often worship the Abyss.”

“I don’t worship anything.”

“No sane hero would. Everything in the dungeons is cursed.”

“Wait.”

Poti let the leg fall back to the sand.

“One boss I fought was called a ‘Cursed.’ What is that?”

“Oh, you fought a Cursed?” She picked the leg back up and stabbed at it a few times. Her tool burst into flames that quickly spread through the metal leg. “How many times have you run into the cathkabel? A few if a priest came after you. Or was it after Myr? I’m sure he pissed off Elysium.”

“They were after me. I ate Graliel’s face. He’s a quest boss on the second floor of the Ocean. I’ve only seen the cathkabel the two times.”

Poti chuckled. “You are as insane as I expected. Gaining Elysium’s ire in such a short time is an accomplishment all its own. As you likely guessed, we don’t follow the same rules as other mobs.” She looked up. “We’re on the first floor now?”

“Yes. We’re not going quick.”

“I don’t care about your pace. That means you will see this Graliel again on the second floor?”

“If we do the quest, yes. I don’t know how to beat the quest. Last time I failed.”

Poti waved her hand, cutting Owin off. “None of that matters to me. When you see Graliel again, do you know what will be interesting?”

Owin was looking forward to figuring out how to beat the quest and also getting a new version of the trident. The last one had warped under the heat of a Magma Mine on the fourth floor, so getting a replacement would be a priority.

“I’m assuming you don’t know.”

Owin realized he had just been staring at the demon as she waited for an answer. “I guess I don’t know.”

“The cathkabel will remember you. Especially you. There have been plenty who have been enemies of Elysium or the Abyss over the centuries, but to send a priest to a dungeon? That’s a risk most Lords of the Abyss would never take. A death when one isn’t a mob is permanent.”

“So Temikiel is . . .”

“Dead forever. What’s left of him is in your stomach.”

“He didn’t taste good,” Owin said. “The Malignant Spirit tasted better.”

Poti froze. “You ate the Malignant Spirit? In the Great Forest?”

Owin nodded.

“Well done. He’ll regenerate. I wouldn’t if you ate me now, so . . . don’t eat me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Poti grunted. “Sure.” She drove the tool into the leg. “Look at something else.”

Owin shifted until he looked back at the schools of fish swimming about the open area. The passage with the snail that Ernie and Katalin had mentioned was cloaked in shadows. He was still curious about whatever beast lay inside, but Ernie had insisted it was too dangerous to take the risk, even if it was only the first floor.

With all of his buffs, surely the snail couldn’t be that strong.

Potirantoma caused Myrsvai’s leg to spark with abyssal fire. “Damn thing. Who made this?” She grumbled to herself, muttering how she could make a better leg in her sleep or on her deathbed.

“Does the Malignant Spirit remember me too?”

“It might. Not sure the old bastard would care much. Demons and cathkabel are opposites in almost every way. If anything, the Spirit probably thought you eating it was commendable.”

“I don’t know that word.”

“Ah. Well . . .” She shrugged and got a feedback of magic again from the leg. “Fuck.”

Owin opened his index and looked at his attributes while listening to Potirantoma continue swearing and mumbling. Fish continued swimming about, occasionally casting a faint shadow over Owin. He stared at the absurd numbers of his attributes. They had grown so much since he first awoke, but was he really that much stronger? Every time they increased, he didn’t feel stronger until he fought, but even fighting the cathkabel didn’t make him feel powerful. He had a long way to go before he was going to conquer the whole Ocean Dungeon.

Hero

Owin

Deficient Wizard

Nimble Hog Hero Company

Level: 1

Strength: 386

Constitution: 290

Dexterity: 235*

Intelligence: 275

Wisdom: 169

Charisma: 160