His hands dripped blood as he walked through the cold night. Owin continued holding the knife, feeling unable to let go. Blood clung between his fingers and dripped off the end of the curved knife in long, slow globs.
Kidibose hadn’t been a real person, but neither was Owin. At least, not until he had become aware. Whether she was real didn’t really matter. Maybe she was just someone Ruvaine had made to exist within the walls of the second floor, but Owin had liked her. She was kind, even when he was confused. She was going to help fight against the cult that she had been part of. She was the only person he had known that wanted to help him in the short time he had known what was happening.
Now, he held her heart.
Owin walked through the silent forest. They had killed the wolves and bears on their way to Naxile’s. Nothing was left to stop Owin’s journey back. He reached the river and watched the water flow by in the moonlight. With his increased strength, it was easy to jump across.
The smallest hint of a sunrise appeared on the horizon behind Owin as he saw the first torchlights of the cultist village. He passed right by the butcher’s and into the plaza near the first house he had appeared in. Rattis was pacing in front of the bakery, just north of Owin.
The magus noticed Owin and hurried over, as fast as his old body could carry him. “You’re back, you’re back,” he said excitedly. He slowed upon noticing the blood dripping from Owin’s hand. A scowl twisted his face as he saw the heart in Owin’s hand. “Where’s Kidibose?”
Owin held up her heart. “Nosolus sent us there to kill Kidibose. A sacrifice.”
Rattis pulled his hood up, hiding his face. “There was some commotion at the cathedral while you were gone. I stayed back, but the rest of the village joined him. Nosolus is up to something.”
“Is there anyone else who will help us?”
“No. We will need to do this ourselves.” Rattis sighed and leaned his weight onto his staff. “I will be able to stop the skeletons from getting to you, but you will have to kill him quickly. If he starts using spells . . .” Rattis let his voice trail off. He ground the end of the staff into the cobblestones. “He’s powerful.”
The village was eerily quiet with only Rattis and Owin there. The older man finally stood upright. “Let’s get moving.”
It only took a few minutes to walk through the village, the short space of woods, and into the cemetery, which was also empty. No skeletons stood guard at the gate or in front of the cathedral. Rattis gave Owin a look, then picked up his pace. He moved spryly for an older man.
Owin had more than a bad feeling about the situation. His hand clenched the knife, forcing glue-like blood to flow from between his fingers. Rattis opened the door, revealing an empty cathedral.
“They’re attacking the satyrs,” Owin said.
Rattis leaned into the cathedral. His voice echoed as he checked for anybody inside.
“I’m going to stop him.”
Rattis tapped his staff on the ground. “I’ll slow you down. I can prepare for a fight, should they return.”
“Can we destroy the statue?”
Rattis looked over his shoulder at the statue of the Malignant Spirit. “No. Nothing can destroy an abyssal creation.”
Owin had no idea what a magus could do. What was there to prepare? If they couldn’t destroy the statue, they were better off pushing the fight to Nosolus while he was distracted by the satyrs.
Owin grabbed the strap of Naxile’s bag and tightened it until it hung at his hip, instead of dragging along the ground.
“Hurry,” Rattis said.
Owin finally placed Kidibose’s heart into the bag and wiped his hand on the cathedral wall before running out of the cemetery and through the woods.
The sun climbed higher into the sky, casting long shadows through the woods. It wasn’t long before Owin found the first corpse.
The satyr had its arms ripped clean off. Blood soaked into the ground and turned the dirt to sticky mud. Some gore still dripped down the bark of nearby trees. The satyr had been slaughtered.
Owin hurried through the rest of the forest without any confrontation. If there had been any grim wolves in the area, the cultists had taken care of them. By the time the sun had fully risen, just above the horizon, Owin found the satyr village in the middle of a battle.
Carnage was spread all around. Bones, blood, and corpses were strewn about the forest clearing. Some bodies and entrails hung from branches beneath the treetop platforms.
He could just find the stairs to the next floor. There was no reason to get involved in anything happening. The stairs had been an option the entire time, but things would get more difficult as he ascended. He needed power. He needed more buffs. And what would happen if Nosolus accomplished his goal? If Owin ran with Kidibose’s heart, Nosolus would simply take Rattis’s instead.
Green fire burst from the central platform. No wood caught fire in the blast, but blood and a satyr arm splattered over the side.
In the time of his travels back to the cathedral, then to the satyr village, Owin’s mana had refilled on its own. It was a slow process, but it was still always refilling. Having one spell at his disposal would be helpful. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be enough to stop from being executed by a spell that ripped the arms right off a high level satyr.
Long, red fingers with curled black nails reached over the edge, grasping the wooden platform. A wide-faced demon with pointed ears and curled horns peered over the ledge. Its eyes were black holes, devoid of color. Green flames danced along its arms as it stood upright and turned around. Something smashed into it, throwing the demon straight off the platform. It crashed heavily onto the ground just in front of Owin.
Apprentice Demon
Summon of Nosolus Dindross
Level 5
A level 5 demon was that huge? It stood upright, having survived the fall, and turned to Owin. It smiled, revealing rows of sharp teeth, not even giving it room for a tongue. The demon wore scale armor with pteruges, leaving its arms and legs exposed. Its feet were incredibly long and ended in bird-like black talons.
Owin pointed his hand and cast Bolt. The lightning bolt hit the demon in the nose. Green fire burst from all over its body as it howled and quickly vanished, leaving a ring of burning grass.
Owin’s mana was gone again, but at least he had been able to take down the demon. There was still fighting all around the clearing. It all took place on the platforms, and from what Owin could see, there were far more satyr corpses than cultists on the ground.
He wanted to plan. He wanted to know what he was doing. There wasn’t any time for that. Without knowing what he was going to face, he couldn’t plan ahead. He used a mana potion to refill his bar before climbing the central, spiraling ramp to Governor Gropnil’s house.
A skeleton berserker, one of the cathedral guards, stood just on top of the platform. It held a greatsword in its hands and stared at Owin with empty eye sockets. He inched around it without the skeleton reacting at all.
Meanwhile, the door to Gropnil’s house exploded off the hinges and flew off the platform. Across the clearing, on the outer ring, satyrs and cultists clashed with weapons and launched spells at each other. The fight looked mostly even now that Owin was able to see more of what was actually happening. There had been more satyrs than cultists, and the initial surprise attack seemed to have gone in Nosolus’s favor.
Gropnil, holding a shield in front of his face, slid out of the door, coming to a stop a few inches from the ledge. Green fire danced on the edge of his wooden shield without burning it.
“You could have surrendered the eyes,” Nosolus said loudly from within the house. Owin reached inside his bag and pulled out the swirling potion that Naxile had made.
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Shatter Grenade
Created by Alchemist Naxile
If he could get Nosolus near the edge, he could possibly shove him off the platform with the grenade. As long as Nosolus didn’t get the eyes, things would be fine. A green and black burst exploded out from the doorway, striking Gropnil’s shield. The satyr grunted as green flames encased the shield.
Gropnil’s hooves dug into the wooden platform, shaving off bits as he charged back into the house, shouting something incomprehensible. Before Owin could follow, the satyr umbra appeared right in front of him in a poof of purple smoke.
“Cultist,” he said, holding his straight bladed shortsword.
“I’m not with them!” Owin ducked as the umbra immediately sliced horizontally.
The skeleton berserker behind Owin turned and swung his greatsword right over the goblin’s head. The umbra blocked the swing, throwing a shower of sparks into the air.
“Attack,” the skeleton said in an airy voice, as if the breeze was talking.
The umbra watched Owin with beady eyes as each mob pushed against the other’s sword right above his head.
Owin rolled out of the way and ran to the door. He quickly slipped inside and dodged another green blast from Nosolus. The inside of Gropnil’s house was wrecked. Things were burning with real fire and almost all of the furniture was shattered. Gropnil held a flanged mace in his three fingered hand while he kept his shield up, blocking most of his upper body.
Nosolus stood on the other side with blood running from his nostrils and a cut across the bridge of his nose. A small stream of blood also dripped from his finger, but its source was hidden to Owin.
“Ah, goblin. You’ve come to assist. I will honor our original agreement if you help retrieve the eyes from this beast,” Nosolus said.
Gropnil turned his head, which looked a lot like an owl turning their head, to face Owin without turning his shield away. “They have slaughtered my people. Help us.”
New Quest
Pick a Side
Reward: Journeyman Item
Note: This choice cannot be reversed
Owin scowled. It erased the other quests from his journal, leaving only the option to pick the satyrs or the cultists. Owin pointed his hand and shot Bolt at Nosolus. The magus held up his hand and appeared to catch the spell in a swirl of green fire. It had no clear effect.
Journal Updated
“You’re going to need something better than that to help,” Gropnil said.
“I have an idea.” Owin ran back out the door as Nosolus cackled.
The umbra and the skeleton still fought, each blocking attacks and counter attacking at a rapid speed. Few spells, if any, moved between them. Owin had trouble following the combat.
He ran around the fight, behind the skeleton, and jumped. He smashed Naxile’s curved knife into the top of its skull, shattering bone. The skeleton didn’t immediately die, but it did stagger and try to turn. In the brief opening, the umbra coated its sword in purple fire and slashed, cutting straight through the ribs and spine of the skeleton.
Bones dropped to the wooden platform, clattering loudly.
“Took you long enough.” The umbra kept the purple coating over its sword. “Is the governor alive?”
“He needs help.” Owin put the curved knife in his belt, wiped some sticky blood off his hand, and grabbed the skeleton’s greatsword. “Ready?”
“Hm. Never thought a goblin would be on our side.” The umbra ran forward and slowly disappeared, like water slowly flowed up his body. “Distract the cultist for me.”
Owin had no idea where the umbra had gone. He inched forward slowly at first, worried about bumping into the invisible man. The greatsword rested on Owin’s shoulder. Despite the overwhelming size difference, the sword didn’t feel particularly heavy. In fact, it wasn’t much different than carrying the knife when he had first become aware because of his new strength.
Was fighting Nosolus a bad idea? Owin stood in the doorway, watching the satyr soldier and the human magus face off. They were both level 16, which was quite the jump compared to everything else Owin had fought on the floor. Even the umbra was only level 14. At least they all had levels above one.
Gropnil swung his flanged mace wildly, striking a green and black flame shield that hovered around Nosolus. The magus lifted his hand, causing green tendrils to rise from the wood as if there was a portal beneath Gropnil’s feet. The tendrils wrapped around the satyr’s hairy legs and pulled him toward the ground.
Owin searched for any sign of the umbra. There had been a slight distortion in the light when he first disappeared, but in the chaos of the battle, Owin couldn't see anything. It was up to him. Avenge Kidibose. Save the last of the satyrs.
He took a step in, ready to leap, then stopped. Why?
Kidibose knew nothing of the different floors. She thought she had just been a baker. Rattis was surprised to find out what the cult actually worshiped, despite being part of it.
“Why, Ruvaine?” Owin asked again. “What is my purpose?”
You will have to learn yourself, thrall. This world only respects power. These thralls fighting before you are my creations, just as you are. They will never respect you. They will never learn. Above, you will meet mortals who will only respect you if you prove you are more powerful. Use this opportunity to learn, to grow, to show strength.
Ruvaine’s voice vanished from his mind as the satyr and cultist continued to clash. A green and black sword with a blade that looked like a flame materialized in Nosolus’s hand, bringing their fight into a full melee brawl.
Owin didn’t move.
Fight and complete the quest, or you will be sent back to the caves as a mindless thrall. You are an anomaly, one I should quell before the others discover your existence. Curiosity has made me merciful. It will not last. Act or perish.
Act or perish. Owin repeated the line in his head several times.
His grip tightened on the greatsword. Time to act. He leapt through the air and swung the greatsword down. It was incredibly huge compared to the knives he had been using, and with such low dexterity, his control of the weapon was not great.
While Nosolus was distracted by the rooted satyr, Owin smashed the flat of the greatsword right on top of the magus’s head. The blow shook through the sword and tingled Owin’s hands. The shield around Nosolus disappeared into wisps of green flames that quickly dissipated.
Owin landed and held up the sword as Nosolus thrust his hand out and shot a green blast, cleaving the sword in two. Owin threw the handle and sword fragment to the side and grabbed the curved knife from his belt.
Before he could dive back in, purple fire formed around an invisible sword right behind Nosolus. The umbra appeared just as he stabbed straight into the magus’s back. It punctured through the front, purple flames spilling out of his chest, and all Nosolus did was laugh.
His demonic sword vanished as he snapped his fingers. A black and green haze immediately covered the entire room, choking Owin. The air was heavier than smoke and burned like acid. Heavy footsteps approached as Nosolus appeared with the flaming sword still lodged in his chest. He crouched beside Owin and held out his hand, showing two red gems.
“The heart,” he said. “I see it in your bag.”
Owin wheezed and tried to pull the bag away. Nosolus easily grabbed it and yanked it away from the small goblin. He took the heart and tossed the bag to the side.
“You’re all disappointments. The Malignant Spirit will drag you to the Abyss. I will spare you to become its first meal.” Nosolus cackled and walked out of the house. Owin heard more green beams shoot from his hands out on the platform.
Everything grew fuzzier as Owin’s health ticked down. The haze thickened as threads of black fogs slithered through the green. He felt incredibly weak as he crawled over to his bag and pulled it close. He still had two health potions, but he didn’t want to waste them while still in the attack.
The umbra appeared, limping. He had blood splattered on his face, causing him to squint. The satyr grabbed Owin’s bag and arm, and forcefully dragged him deeper into the haze, through a door, and into clear air beyond. The umbra collapsed and wheezed. Owin grabbed the bag and set it between them. He handed one health potion to the umbra, and drank the other himself, leaving him without any health potions again.
The umbra drank the potion and immediately climbed back to his feet. “We need to go now.”
“Right now?” Health potions fixed injuries, but they didn’t make the pain just vanish. At least, they didn’t help with the memory of the pain.
“He will resurrect the demon if we do not stop him.”
“What was that attack?”
The satyr opened the door, allowing some of the haze to flow into the room. It was thinner than it had been moments ago. “It’s a powerful magus spell. The infernal shroud.”
“What about the governor?” Owin asked, already dreading the answer. There was no chance the umbra would have saved Owin if his leader had still been alive.
“If we’re going to go into another fight, I need to be stronger. Did Gropnil have any buff potions? Anything?”
The umbra folded his arms and looked around the room. “Perhaps. Stay here.” He turned and ran up some stairs. His hooves clacked loudly on the wood. Owin heard the footsteps above him and drawers sliding open and closed. Before long, the satyr reappeared with a single white potion. “It was beside his bed along with a book.”
“He drank it to read?” Owin took the intelligence buff from the satyr. It wasn’t what he hoped for, but it was absolutely better than nothing.
Intelligence +10
Intelligence: 115
That brought his intelligence up to the same level as his strength, which also meant his mana bar grew a few points.
“Do you know the way to the cultists?”
Owin slung his bag over his shoulder and checked his knives. “Yeah. Ready?”
The umbra walked back into the room, and reappeared moments later with Gropnil’s flanged mace. He strode right past Owin and opened a back door. “Please.”
Fresh air was beautiful. Unfortunately, satyr and cultist bodies littered the village. Any satyrs that had still been alive during the fight were now dead, killed by Nosolus. At least there would be less cultists to fight alongside their leader than if Owin had fought him at the cathedral originally.
The umbra stopped beside a satyr corpse and crouched, placing his three fingered hand on the satyr’s head. “The Malignant Spirit will kill every satyr, even the ones who moved away from our village.”
Owin only thought about how he was certain the umbra was already the last of the satyrs, just as Owin was the last of the goblins, at least on this floor.
“What is the Malignant Spirit?”
“A Lord of the Abyss. We cannot fight it in its full form. You saw how powerful Nosolus was as the Chosen Magus. Lead me there. We will fight the demon together.”