“Should we move on?” Blake phrased it as a question, but his eyes wandered off towards the double doors under the sweeping staircase even as he spoke. Rowan could practically hear the words the Goddess of Light was whispering in Blake’s ears, egging him onwards.
Rowan, however, was set on finally doing things right.
“Of course not. We came here with an army, planning to fight an army.” Rowan turned away from his friend, eying the hall that was decidedly more grim thanks to the newly unleashed slaughter staining most of it. “We couldn’t do much from the outside, but maybe we can do something now to let the army in?”
“Maybe.” It was Milena who spoke, and Rowan finally noticed that her eyes were flitting about the place erratically, taking in every aspect of the hall. “There’s… something here. I don’t really understand it fully, but it’s there.”
“I feel it too,” Olivia supplied, moving closer to a row of the creepy statues. “There’s mana emanating from all of the decorations, but the emissions coming from the statues put them all to shame.”
“Could breaking them possibly bypass the problem?” de Vort wondered, moving closer to examine one herself. “Maybe these are acting as fulcrums?”
It may have been his own suggestion, but Rowan quickly lost the thread of conversation as it grew more technical. The other two of Blake’s wives chimed in, offering up their own highly specialized theories about mana.
As he leaned against the railing of the stairs, Rowan felt that it was a blessing, frankly. His mind was still swimming with the image of the demon’s face, frozen in time from when it was shocked at the spear’s power. The full might of his newly added epic card was astonishing.
The previously impressive butler demon was now mostly a head, a pair of legs, and a smear, and Rowan couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to it.
In spite of his conviction, in spite of knowing that demons would never willingly accept to work with humanity without insisting on corruption playing a part in their alliance, it still stung to deal the first blow.
“You okay?” Blake asked quietly, worry plain on his face as he approached, positioning himself so that Rowan was partially shielded from the rest of the room.
Rowan almost made the mistake of lashing out, of making a hurtful quip in the face of his best friend’s concern, but settled on a sad smile. “I’m fine, Blake. Really. I just didn’t expect them to try and host us.” He gestured around the room vaguely, his smile growing strained.
“Yeah, that was a shock,” Marcus said quickly, pulling closer too and fully blocking Rowan from the sight of the others. “Never even heard a single story about them trying to be civil.”
“Probably an attempt at an ambush,” Blake grumbled, but his emotions twisted out of the spiral the goddess seemed to be nudging him towards a moment later. “Listen, this was tough for me too, but… well, if they’re that human-like, then it’s obvious: we’re at war. And they started it.”
“At war…” Rowan tasted the words on his tongue, and they were bitter. A war that he had just begun to accept. One that he assumed would be against mindless monsters intent on killing and nothing else. But the words still gave him a jolt of energy that he needed to get moving again. “Thank you, both of you.”
The sincerity in his voice was obvious, and brought out smiles from both of his friends. Rowan was just about to continue their conversation when the low chanting started.
All three of them immediately gripped their weapons, spinning around on where the sound was coming from, only for their eyes to fall on the sight of Milena glowing an ominous shade of purple and floating a foot off the ground, legs crossed under her.
The others were gathered around her, either holding ritual implements at certain distances away from her, or walking around the room and sprinkling what appeared to be red powder around the room.
The chanting picked up, and more items and powders were laid around the room, causing unearthly voices to spring forth, and the torches that illuminated the place to flicker, wink out, and come back an unnatural, bloody red.
“How are we in a creepy demon mansion and your sister is the most frightening thing in here?” Blake tried for a joking tone of voice, but his voice did grow a bit too squeaky towards the end.
Even Rowan had to admit that Milena cut an imposing figure, her white fur now marked by rapidly appearing glyphs and sigils, all the while that same creepy glow intensified. Then the wolf kin straightened, stretched midair, and landed one foot almost daintily on the ground.
There was a thump that spread from the point of impact, then crackling lines of purple energy erupted towards every corner of the hall. They covered the floor in moments, climbed the wall, overtook the ceiling, and finally, slowly, facing great resistance, made their way up the statues.
The statues creaked and shook, before they started to move. Each of them snapped out of their poses, stumbling, staggering. They were trying to desperately make their way closer to the wolf kin shaman, but faltered mere steps after their animation.
One by one, they froze again and collapsed to the floor, scattering in a thousand little pieces. The second the final statue fell, the world twisted in its wake.
The space around Rowan felt like it was compressed, kneaded, and then cut, causing things to burst out of midair.
Things that Rowan recognized.
The bits of what used to be their forward team rained down on the floor, limbs carelessly torn away from bodies, armor crumpled and cut.
Following in their wake was also a very startled ground of almost fifty demons, who landed on the floor of the hall in a heap, moaning and struggling to move.
Rowan was in motion before he could even process what he saw or felt. Mechanically, barely belaying the anger that churned in his chest, his glowing spear raised and fell, reaping one demonic life after another.
The others joined him too, but it couldn’t have been called a fight. It was an execution. The demons seemed to be on the upper rare tier in terms of strength, but they were disoriented, very nearly knocked out by the ritual Milena had cast.
It was only when their grisly work was done that Rowan realized that figures were streaming into the hall from its main entrance.
“Easy there, lad.” Hearing Lucius’s voice was a relief on its own. The older man scanned the hall, looking for threats that the hero parties hadn’t already churned through.
He found none.
An explosion sounded a moment later, actually shaking the entire mansion. The sound of shattering glass and screams accompanied it, but it all brought a smile to Rowan’s face. The screams were decidedly inhuman.
“Good to see you again. The hospitality of the demons didn’t agree with us,” Rowan quipped, spinning his spear to get rid of some of the nervous energy bubbling up inside him.
“Good to be here. I have to say, our Radiant Hero impressed me. I thought he’d have charged after the enemy leader by now instead of making sure we could follow.” The Mercenary King’s mirth was the only thing that softened the blow of the accusation.
Blake looked suitably chastised, but Rowan just laughed.
With that, unfortunately, it was time to finish regrouping and recommit for another attack. Soldiers continued to stream into the mansion, whose hall now was somehow even bigger. Rowan ignored what they were doing as he eyed the doors ahead of them.
He might have missed it before his training with Olivia to sense mana. Now, the sensation was unmistakable. The demon they’d come to kill was right behind those doors, and for some reason it was content to wait.
“That’s our stop.” Rowan gestured towards the doors, even as he ventured closer to them. “Want to accompany us in there?”
“Of course, lad,” the Mercenary King quipped. “In fact, let me open the way for you. You lot! Get up to the second level, and get ready to storm any rooms you find! We’re attacking simultaneously in two minutes!”
The soldiers rushed to obey, lieutenants and officers quickly claiming control over their groups and coordinating the process. Rowan just quirked a brow at Lucius in question.
“They’re giving us a chance to strike first. It would be foolish not to take it.” The man’s comment did resonate.
“And what do you think you’re doing without me?” The voice made all of their eyes snap up to the second story, only to land on a frustrated-looking Tamara. She glided through the air, her disciples close on her tail.
“I thought you’d be busy — you know — with all the screaming,” Rowan admitted, sending the woman a smile. The eagerness and anticipation he kept feeling from their link hadn’t diminished in the slightest. If anything, with access to the manor, it had only grown.
“That rabble? Please, we already took care of what opposition we faced. I was just hoping you’d see reason and just exit the building when you took down its protections. We could have reduced it to rubble, and fought the demon at our leisure.”
Rowan frowned, unable to argue the woman’s point. In spite of that, the coiling of voracity in her chest made him hesitate to agree to the plan. There was something there that he didn’t really understand or like, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“Well…”
“No, we do this the right way,” Blake was the one who cut in, eyes suddenly blazing with divine light. “My Goddess demands it.”
For the very first time, Rowan felt mildly grateful for the effect that the divine had on Blake. If both his instincts and the Goddess agreed, then maybe he was right to be cautious.
Tamara opened her mouth, likely to argue, when Lucius interrupted her. “It’s time. Let’s not argue on the eve of battle.” With no hesitation, the large man stepped forward, took a deep breath, and brought down one of his feet on the doors with all the might he could muster.
For an epic tier class, strength focused or not, that meant that the doors nearly exploded as they opened, flying off their hinges and slamming into the walls.
The sight that was revealed actually made Rowan pause in his rush forward.
The throne room beyond the doors was massive, stretching the full length and width of a football field, if not further.
The floor was sterling silver, polished to such a shine that it may as well have been a mirror, and perfectly reflecting the intricate, sculpted arches of the roof that depicted all manner of creatures, be it beasts or humanoids, draped over each other in slumber.
Balconies lined the walls above the floor and along the sides of the room. Rowan would have admired it, had they not been filled to the brim with all sorts of demons dressed in clothing fancier than he had seen even among the kingdom’s nobility. He shivered.
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Of course, at the far end of the room, seated in a suitable gilded throne even more ornately carved than the ceiling, was the legendary demon.
Its throne, in stark contrast to the ceiling, was full of depictions of creatures waking up. The closer to his seat they got, the more aware and animated their expressions became. Each and every one of them was twisted in unnatural rapture. Diamonds and other precious stones stood in for their eyes, giving them a crazed quality with the way light refracted off of them.
The demon himself was almost easy to miss, if it weren’t for the aura of pure might that emanated from him. It was almost tangible, and it brought a lead-like tang to the air.
Unlike in the dream Rowan and Blake shared, the demon was not a gaseous giant with barely defined features, out to crush them like ants. He was frail, with robes that were practically draping off him.
His face was sunken and gray, like a patient left unattended for too long. His wickedly sharp claws had a dull glow to them, looking like evil Christmas ornaments. Even the tail and horns that gleamed wickedly with obsidian-like shards attached to them didn’t inspire much fear.
The demon’s eyes were the only sign of his might. They shone with an inner gray light, resembling the spokes of an ever-spinning wheel. Rowan could swear that in spite of the distance, in spite of the impossibility of it, he was drawn into those eyes and saw countless souls chained to those same wheels, screaming in anguish, ecstasy, and a thousand other emotions.
Then the doors on the upper level were torn open, and the shouting and screaming that followed broke Rowan out of his reverie. The single moment that seemed to stretch forever was over.
“Well, well, you finally arrive,” the demon rasped, taking his time to get out of his seat of power even as ten epic tier combatants rushed towards him. “And in such a rude manner.”
The demon didn’t seem to care about the slaughter of his people. He didn’t so much as glance at the upper gallery, where soldiers took to stabbing a little too happily, even for Rowan’s taste. He had eyes only for the two heroes in the lead.
A wordless growl that tore its way out of Rowan’s throat. His spear had grown in its radiance progressively, and now he thrust it forward with the full might of what his card build could support.
The demon swatted at the spear with a single hand negligently, then rocked to the side when the explosion that followed made him stagger and lacerations opened all over said hand. Black, oily blood erupted out of the wound, spiraling into the air, and then getting sucked towards the spear itself.
Most of it instantly seeped into Rowan’s weapon, like it usually did, but some of it sank into his skin too, sending a jolt of power and energy through him.
The demon glared at the appendage like it had betrayed him, but the reflection was cut off by a screech of agony when Blake burst into a divine glow and slipped his sword right between the demon’s ribs.
An explosion of demonic mana threw all of them back, streaming from the demon for several long seconds. Most of his assailants were sent rag dolling over the floor, but Tamara, floating as she was, was positively launched into the wall right above the double doors.
Rowan could just barely track her. The woman impacted the wall with a loud, wet thunk, started falling, then was catapulted out of the throne room by the continued emission of mana. The emotional feedback Rowan got from her dulled, sending a spike of worry through Rowan.
“THAT GODDESS! THAT DIVINE PARASITE! SHE WILL REGRET EVER WOUNDING ME!” The demon’s bellows followed the release of mana, his eyes crazed as he examined his hand and chest.
The demon’s robe were now fully torn up around his chest, revealing a gaunt mess of scabs and wounds that were there even before Blake’s attack. The wounds looked infected and raw, with a mild golden glow sputtering out of them every couple of seconds.
Rowan saw the opportunity for what it was, bringing all of his mana to bear and forcing it out of his core and into the rest of his body as deeply and as thoroughly as he could. He spared what little was left to feed his spear further, but he’d been building another strike from the moment he landed his first one.
With his agility engaged more powerfully than it ever was before, Rowan practically teleported across the space of the throne room. The world seemed to move like molasses around him, the very air of the room pressing back.
Then he was there, and the demon’s eyes widening in realized of his speed right before his spear punched forward, aimed right where Blake’s previous strike had landed.
The spear’s tip further widened the weakened flesh easily, but it bit deeper than Blake’s sword did. It scraped right by the ribs, met some small tearing resistance, and finally sank into and through the demon’s heart.
Blood erupted around Rowan. More blood than he ever thought any creature of the demon’s size could possess.
The blood swept over his spear, and even its gluttonous nature couldn’t keep up with the feast that was being provided. It seeped into Rowan’s skin, and Rowan felt a jolt of fear when he felt the tendrils of corruption from the foul liquid start questing forward.
Yet, the Scarlet Envy did its job flawlessly, the card’s effect viciously tore power out of the blood and directed it all into Rowan’s own reserves with no regard for the corruption’s supposed effects.
Rowan’s mana was guttering out just a moment earlier, consumed to the extreme by the rush and blow. Now, his reserves were rapidly refilling, and he sent whatever dregs he recovered spiraling into the card that promised him even more damage against the demon.
The demon’s screams echoed out into the throne room with a desperation that was almost enough to knock Rowan out of his concentration, and the monster’s hands fell to clasp around the hero’s spear, fighting to push it out.
Yet, empowered by the demon’s own blood and driven by sudden manic bloodlust, the Stalwart Hero didn’t budge an inch.
Another explosion of mana erupted in the room, finally sending Rowan back. However, unlike before, he was barely forced to stumble away, even if the spear finally left the demon’s body.
Rowan’s head was spinning. The smell of unholy blood nearly overpowered his senses, and odd, hysterical laughter began to echo in his ears. It was grating, full of madness and vitriol and emotions best left unnamed, and he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Rowan!”
The word, his name, Rowan recognized, made him jerk in the direction of the speaker.
A human female was on her knees, left on the floor by the blast, but the way she looked at him irked him. It was a look full of worry, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t need concern from such-
A blow to his cheek sent the hero smashing into a wall, ears ringing. Through blurry eyes, he spotted the demon teetering on his feet, the wound on his chest torn open to the point of showing all the mangled organs inside of it.
The sight wasn’t reminiscent of anything inside of a human, especially the shriveled, crystalline-looking heart.
The laughter, though, persisted. Rowan so very badly wanted it to stop. Blood, welling from his torn lips and inner cheek made him choke, and the awful laughter cut off for a moment.
Clarity swept over Rowan’s battered mind, and suddenly, he understood. He choked back the laughter threatening to bubble up again, groaning as his face knitted itself together.
With steps trembling from too much energy stuffed within his body, he staggered towards the legendary demon again.
Their foe was no longer paying attention to him, though. Instead, the monster’s eyes were fixed on his own chest, disbelief and anger writ large across his features.
Then those eyes snapped up to meet Rowan’s, and the pure, unadulterated hatred within them made the hero stagger. Before Rowan could regain his footing, the demon let out an ear-piercing screech. It was nothing like the sound that had come out of the creature before. It wasn’t an expression of pain, or fury, or anything that mundane. It was a sound filled with everything that the demon was, everything that the monster encompassed. A wave of madness, of vicious suffering, of fractured awareness and a thousand crippled dreams, flooded everyone — both human and demon alike.
Between one blink and the next, Rowan no longer knew where he was. He didn’t know who he was. What he was.
He was a student sitting an exam, eyes briefly shooting towards one of his friends there with him and wondering at the score they’d get.
He was a lonely boy, cuddling up to a car as he hid from the notice of everyone.
He was a child, sniffling the bitter tears of betrayal that cut their way across his face at the mere thought of a friendship he thought was solid and true.
He was a hero, laying siege on a demon with a handful of true allies and an army full of people he wasn’t sure he could trust.
He was a monster, drowned in blood and fear and anger, with a desire to endure total madness just to secure another drop of the liquid.
He was…
The scream cut short, and Rowan collapsed to his knees. He was shaking again, but this time the sensation came from the terror gripping him. His mind, a thousand different conflicting shards that had started to drift apart, clicked back into place again, and he heaved shuddering breath. Rowan used the last of his strength to raise his head and catch sight of the demon, feet dangling in the air.
Before the monster stood Milena, holding a long, wicked-looking spike of crystalline material glittering in the light of the room. A blink drew Rowan’s attention to the fact that the weapon had grown out of her staff, and that she’d driven said weapon up through the demon’s jaw, holding up the monster like a wetly flapping flag.
Before he could even begin to process what had happened, a status window practically exploded in front of Rowan’s face. The font seemed to almost shine, and the letters appeared to slightly wiggle in place with a faint golden glow.
Congratulations!
You have slain [Sybelin, The Earl of Grasping Madness], one of the Four Demonic Pillars!
A sudden fire erupted inside of his chest, and Rowan’s mind’s eye was drawn to the core of his being where a heart card was briefly began to glow.
Calculating…
Conditions 3/8 fulfilled.
Error!
Unsealing requirements not met.
The glow died down, and Rowan slumped when his normal vision was restored, leaving him gasping for air that somehow seemed insufficient to fill his lungs now. Hands gripped him, laying him on his side and quickly fluttering over his bloodied features before they pulled away and the mouth of a potion bottle was forced between his lips. He drank greedily, the jolt of energy finally letting him open his eyes to look up blearily at his extremely worried fiancée.
“Hey there, beautiful,” Rowan managed to barely croak out. Between one blink and the next, the fire in his chest died down, and it became so much easier to function. “Sorry for worrying you.”
“You idiot, charging in like that. And what happened back there?” Olivia was asking, but before she could really get going or let him get in a word, she suddenly bent forward, and her lips were on his.
For a glorious couple of minutes, there wasn’t much talking to be had. There was only the two of them, and a glorious feeling of being alive and well.
Then Marcus had to clear his throat, and Rowan was thrust back into the arms of reality. He glared up at the beast folk, who was smiling wryly.
“I can’t let you just lay there all day,” Marcus insisted with a grin, which faded into seriousness with his next question. “What happened back there? Is everything alright? Blake went down at the same time you did.”
Rowan quickly looked around, finding the other hero in the middle of the three women he was engaged to. He had a put-upon look on his face, but then again, there was a slight smile tugging on his lips. Rowan rolled his eyes, and decided to leave him to it.
“There was a notification, from my system.”
“Yes, about us killing a Demonic Pillar, I got that too. Didn’t put me on the floor, though.”
“No, not that. Something about unsealing…” Rowan muttered, absently rubbing his chest. “I have no clue what it was about. Well, I have guesses, but…” Rowan gestured vaguely around the room. Even if there was no one obviously listening, he was loath to share potentially sensitive information.
“It’s fine, we can talk about this later,” Marcus assured him, then offered him a hand. “Lots of things to do, anyway.”
Over the next several hours, Rowan found out that Marcus was great at understating things.
They had to down potions, regroup, and then immediately start sweeping through the mansion in search of any demonic survivors or loot to be had. They barely even paused to congratulate Milena on her final blow, though Rowan could tell that a lack of celebration didn’t bother her.
The wolf kin was too giddy for that. She was more than willing to describe in intricate detail the process of simplifying a ritual into an instant cast spell, which she’d managed to pull off on the spot to kill the demon.
Apparently, her ability to throw off the demon’s madness curse was something less worthy of discussion, and simply chalked up to her ‘class related resistances.’
By the time they were done pilfering the monstrosity of a castle, Rowan no longer felt like the leader of an army that had just overcome a major obstacle to lasting peace and prosperity. He felt like a wrung out commander who’d rather not have to look at yet another corpse of someone he’d chosen to lead into battle.
He may not have killed them himself, but every body that was discovered was like a knife right through Rowan’s heart. He’d managed to lead his army to victory with practically trivial losses the last time, but his lucky streak simply hadn’t held.
Over a hundred and twenty people were dead this time. Some died in the initial attempt to enter the manor, but most of the losses occurred when the demon had used his madness inducing scream to kill them all.
Those that had been lost to the scream were the worst to handle. They weren’t exactly dead, but all the mages agreed that their minds, and souls, were completely gone.
Even Blake’s [Saintess] confirmed as much, the princess looking unusually severe and pale after giving her verdict.
The only thing the two heroes could do was grant those soldiers the mercy of true rest, and while Rowan had insisted on doing the job himself, he’d also thrown up no less than four times. Blake had joined him without a word, and refused to leave the room he’d been left in to do the grisly work. Surprisingly, Rowan’s best friend held up better than he did.
They didn’t even have time for a proper burial. The soldiers were all gathered in the throne room, and a grand pyre was set. As he stared absent-mindedly at the flames, his arms wrapped around Olivia, Rowan was interrupted by yet another notification.
Congratulations!
[Marhet, The Countess of Whispering Wounds], one of the Four Demonic Pillars, has been slain!
This time, Rowan wasn’t knocked off his feet when the unsealing process triggered again, the met conditions ticking up by one, before failing again. However, the heat that had sprung up in his chest was there again.
Rowan’s eyes met Blake’s. Neither hero knew what to say, nor what the sudden notification would mean for them.