Aldritch led the members of Mag Ársa and the scouting team along the edge of the ravine towards the city.
There were a number of roads they could’ve taken to get them to the same location. Each one followed the natural ebb and flow of the landscape to avoid interfering with the natural beauty of the environment… But since the ravine was a straight line and the environment was essentially dead or dying, none of them were willing to waste the time it’d take to follow them.
“Hey - look at this.” Meira said, breaking off from the group. She walked thirty feet from the edge of the ravine, stopping at the site of a fallen tree.
While it was still alive, the tree would’ve been a sight to behold; easily a hundred feet tall, with a unique bark pattern that resembled the scales of a reptile. Its trunk was thicker than an Ogre’s skull, with roots that ran deeper than any connection Zarud had ever had with a woman.
It tore the ground asunder when it fell, pulling a vast pile of dirt and small rocks from the ground with it. But it wasn’t the roots Meira was interested in. No, she was looking at a point some fifty feet from the base of the trunk.
“Need a hand?” Aldritch asked as he approached her from behind. Looking down, he noticed what had grabbed her attention and nodded in understanding.
“Sure, could you help me roll it- Or… Not?” Meira stopped talking as she watched Aldritch shove a single hand beneath the trunk and lift the top-end off the ground.
The interwoven bark was resistant to axes, blades, and most forms of physical impact. But due to the way the bark grew, it was actually weaker if bent from the inside. So, as soon as Aldritch lifted it off the ground, gravity caused the trunk to bend- snapping off chunks of bark and splinters of wood that rained upon the ground.
Aldritch brought the trunk to rest on his shoulder while watching Meira, who was staring at him with an odd look in her eyes. The rest of the group approached them then. Looking between Aldritch, Meira, and the tree. Sulika understood the problem and couldn’t help but sigh. She bent down to inspect what had captured Meira’s attention in the first place- A wide wooden sign was half buried in the dirt and muck. There was a phrase carved into the surface of the sign, but years of mold, water damage, and termites had rendered all but half of one word illegible.
“You got it?” Sulika asked Aldritch while staring at the trunk.
“Of course. It’s not going anywhere.” He replied. He wrapped his arm around the trunk to keep it from rolling and left his free hand dangling at his side, so it didn’t block his view of the sign.
Sulika nodded and crouched beneath the log to get a better look at the sign. “Hey, Max? Know of any towns with ‘A.v.a’ as the first three letters and ‘e.s.i’ as the last three? Looks to be about eight or nine letters total.” Sulika asked while looking at the sign and tracing the letters with her fingertips.
“None that springs to mind.” Max admitted. He stared down at the sign and wracked his brain for any hint or clue that would lead him down the right direction… But he had nothing.
“Damn.” Sulika sighed. “Anyone else?” She asked, looking around at everyone’s faces. Most looked just as clueless as she felt, but not Oladi. The druid looked thoughtful, or maybe confused was the more accurate term? “Oladi? Do you have something?” Sulika asked her friend. Her words prompted everyone to look to the druid for answers.
“Zarud and I had an escort job about six years back. We guided a group of frontiersmen to a rogue island they’d found using scrying magic. I’m not great with names, and Zarud could probably correct me if I’m wrong, but I think they were planning to name their town ‘A’vantaesi’.” Oladi explained. The confusion was gradually draining from her face, only to be replaced by an expression of sickness and sorrow…
“Now that you mention it, yeah, I do remember something like that.” Zarud replied, nodding. “There was this hot elf lady leading the group. Said she wanted to name it after her grandmother.”
“Is A’vantaesi an elvish name?” Aldritch asked. He spoke some Elvish, but he wouldn’t claim to be an expert on the language… Besides, most of what he knew was learned on the battlefield. So, while he knew a fair amount of elvish battle lingo, curses, and commands. Casual language was a bit beyond his understanding.
Meira shook her head. “Not exactly. I don’t think there’s a direct translation in common, but the closest I can think of is ‘Taesi’s Rest’. Taesi being the subject and A’van being the common spelling of the Elvish word ‘home’.”
“Are you a language enthusiast?” Aldritch asked.
“Gods no. I hated school.” Meira laughed. “My brother is a language professor at L'Obélisque D'Aknobaris. Every time I go home it’s like I’ve volunteered for a week’s worth of lectures. Love him, but he has a serious issue with silence.”
“My grandmother is the same way.” Faeyra said, smiling fondly at a memory. “She’s been a tribal elder for as long as I can remember. And believe me, the woman loves the sound of her own voice.”
"That she does." Sulika laughed.
“Is she an alchemist too?” Aldritch asked. He wondered what Faeyra and Sulika’s home life was like. He knew they’d lived together with Faeyra’s grandmother prior to coming to Azuris. But he didn’t know anything else about the woman who raised them.
Faeyra smiled ruefully at the thought and shook her head. “My grandmother hates alchemy.” Sulika saw the expression on her face and gently patted her on the back. Faeyra sent her a grateful smile in return and nodded that she was okay.
Max bent down and pulled the sign out from under the tree trunk. “As fun as this conversation has been, we need to get a move on. We’ve burned enough daylight as it is.” He said and pointed towards the sun in the sky - It was about 80 degrees from being directly overhead, which put the time at somewhere around 9:00 a.m.
“Captain, I believe it's time for our two groups to part ways. You know your orders?” He asked while looking at Captain Reszu. The captain nodded in understanding and motioned for her team to follow her - everyone jumped in surprise as Aldritch allowed the trunk to roll off his shoulder and slam against the ground.
“Alright then.” He said while wiping some debris off his shoulder. “We’re heading to the dungeon, yes?”
“That’s the idea.” Sulika agreed. “Any idea how much further it is?”
“About six miles.” Aldritch replied. He cast the spell ‘Dragon’s Eye’ and waited while his perception warped through time and space until he was looking down on the world from high above. “Correction: Five point six-eight miles.” He said and dismissed the spell. “There are also three demons in close proximity to the dungeon. They appear to be lookouts.”
“What did you just do?” Max asked, having never seen Aldritch use magic before.
“I used a scrying spell to scout the area.” Aldritch explained while looking around the destroyed landscape.
“But you didn’t chant anything?” Max replied in a confused tone.
Aldritch motioned for everyone to follow him and started walking towards the dungeon portal. “Unless the spell exceeds a certain mana expenditure, I don’t need to chant the words to cast it. Just the name will do, my will and mana are enough to compensate for the rest.”
“That’s… Incredible. I knew wizards and warlocks could get by without chanting the whole spell, and sorcerers have that bastardized half-chant they like to do, but I didn’t realize priests could do it too.” Max replied, somewhat in awe of Aldritch’s casual mastery of his magic.
“Neither did I…” Ralocan muttered while staring at Aldritch’s back. “Hey, Guild Master? What’s your class level?” He asked, curious to know how far ahead Aldritch was as a priest.
Aldritch thought about it for a moment. “100.” He replied, knowing both of his classes were the same level.
He wasn’t being intentionally deceptive, Aldritch had merely misunderstood the question. Everyone knew you could have multiple classes. Faeyra was an obvious example: she was an alchemist and an oracle, two classes with two vastly different skill sets… Everyone also knew the more classes you had, the longer it took to improve them because the ‘experience’ you gained had to be divided equally amongst your classes. So, they assumed Aldritch’s only class was Priest. Likewise, Aldritch also assumed they were only interested in his class level, not his overall level.
“You’re a level 100 priest!?” Ralocan exclaimed, his voice reaching a pitch and volume that would make a banshee green with envy.
Ralocan wasn’t the only person surprised by the revelation. Everyone else was too, though at least Sulika and Faeyra were less vocal about it. They’d long suspected his level was outside the norm, this just proved it.
As for Max… Well, only he was suspicious of Aldritch’s claim. Not about the level, he’d already guessed Aldritch was the newest member of the ‘100 club’. No, he was suspicious for another reason. Priests didn’t move like Aldritch did. And they certainly didn’t act the way he did: the giant was a warrior to the depths of his soul. If Max had never seen Aldritch use divine magic, he would’ve assumed the giant was some variant of the warrior class.
“Yes?” Aldritch replied. He was confused by what he perceived as an overreaction to learning his level. Did an arbitrary number really mean that much to them? Why was level 100 any more impressive than level fifty, or level 1 - other than it merely being the largest number?
What did a higher level actually mean?
Aldritch had gone his entire life without a system telling him who was stronger, faster, more dangerous. So, he couldn’t understand why it mattered whose level was higher or lower… Then again, Aldritch spent his entire life fighting with only the strength of his body and durability of his will to save him. While the people of Iolara grew up with the assistance of Thaniea to build their strength.
Neither path was inherently wrong. It was merely a different path to the same location.
“How long did it take you to get to that level?” Ralocan asked. His own hunger for improvement was seeping into his voice, making it sound more urgent, almost desperate.
“I couldn’t tell you.” Aldritch trailed off. How long was he alone on Mag Ársa? How long had he sat there, stagnating like a corpse beneath the surface of a lake, while waiting for something to happen?
He couldn’t remember.
The last few hundred years had fused together into one, excruciatingly long slide show. Just image after image of the exact same purple sky: never changing. Never ending.
“Because you don’t want to say or because you don’t know yourself?” Oladi asked after noticing the impatience in Ralocan’s eyes.
“I smell… Greed. Certainly not as appetizing as pride, but I can see why my sister lived off the stuff.” Oakairo muttered. “Reminds me of Elven sweetbread: overly sweet, chewy, and nuttier than a squirrel on mushrooms. It’s not the worst thing I’ve eaten by any means, but it’s a bit too eclectic for my tastes.”
“I don’t really know. You could always try locking yourself up with an army of demons for a few hundred years and see for yourself?” Aldritch replied, glancing over his shoulder at Cyndarr’s priest.
Ralocan seemed to snap out of whatever spell he’d been under and shook his head. “Uh… No thanks. I think I’ll just stick to raiding dungeons with you guys.”
“Good choice.” Aldritch chuckled.
They continued walking for another twenty minutes. Most of it was filled with the quiet mutterings of shallow conversation between Sulika, Faeyra, Derrik, Zarud, Oladi, and Ralocan. While the six of them talked and walked, Aldritch and Max remained silent- albeit for different reasons.
Max was silent because he was constantly on the lookout for any sign of danger. He couldn’t help it; it was in his nature to be overly watchful and occasionally paranoid. It’d helped him stay alive this long, and he had no intention of changing it now.
As for Aldritch, he just didn’t really care enough about the topic of ‘what should Derrik buy for his son’s birthday?’ to bother answering. Occasionally he’d activate Dragon’s Eye and look for signs of danger, and relay what he saw to the team.
He was surprised how quickly everyone except Max had begun to trust his word. Was it naive of them? Absolutely. But he was grateful for their faith all the same. And because of their faith in him, Aldritch was determined to see them all return home.
So long as he was around, none of them were allowed to die. He’d make sure of that.
As they crested a final hill and laid eyes on what remained of the city, a number of emotions went through the group: anger, sorrow, and resolve being the most prevalent.
“Where’s the dungeon?” Sulika asked while scanning the town. From this height and distance, she could see all four corners of the ruined city without turning her head. While scanning, she made note of a few landmarks to help orient herself should she get lost: A tall tower, a rundown temple, a mansion on the outskirts of the city, and what she assumed to be the old hunter’s guild building in the distance.
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“See the temple?” Aldritch asked and motioned towards the ruined temple Sulika had taken note of. “There’s a large courtyard seventy feet east of its entrance. The portal’s there. As for the demons guarding it; there’s one standing five feet in front of it, one a hundred and thirty feet to the east, and one fifteen feet to the west.”
“Can you tell what species they are?” Faeyra asked while reaching for her backpack.
“No, but I imagine it’ll be one of the species that were here a few days ago. Demonwolf, Imp, Incubus, Succubus, Troll, Ogre, and maybe a lich.” Aldritch replied.
Faeyra’s body froze at the word ‘lich’, but she resumed searching through the bag a moment later. “Imps, Succubi, Incubi, Trolls, and…” She cleared her throat. “The lich are all magic users.” She explained while taking several three-inch long vials of a mysterious blue liquid out of the bag and placing them on the ground in front of her. The vials were almost identical, except for a strange symbol Faeyra had drawn onto the side of three of the vials. “These are potions of Troll’s skin; they’ll increase your resistance to a single type of magic for about four hours. They take ten minutes to kick in, so if you drink them now, you should feel the effects before the fight starts.” She explained while handing a vial to each of them.
Aldritch was curious as to the meaning behind the symbol, and why she'd given them to Oladi, Ralocan, and Max. "What do the symbols mean?" He asked while she was searching around in her bag for something else.
Faeyra paused in her search and looked at Aldritch in confusion. For a second, she was worried she'd given them the wrong potions. But looking at the potion she'd handed Oladi reminded her about the 'symbol' Aldritch was talking about.
"Oh, that. Hemlock is a key ingredient in Troll skin potions, but it doesn't react well with certain races. Elves, Kandis, Gnomes - Goblins are especially vulnerable to it. The symbol is just something I doodled to remind me which potions use the alternative ingredient: ground sumac. It makes the potion a bit weaker than the hemlock version, but it's safe for those races to use... Well, within reason. These are still poisonous plants, after all." She chuckled uncomfortably.
"Fascinating." Aldritch replied. He crouched down beside her and watched as she continued searching through her bag.
"Ah! Here it is." She pulled a larger vial out of her bag and set it aside while she sealed her bag. Once that was done, she grabbed the vial meant for Aldritch and held it out for him to take... But she hesitated at the last second. “Will this have an effect on you?” She asked him.
“I have absolutely no idea.” Aldritch replied while grinning at her. He held out his hand for the vial, “But there’s only one way to find out.”
“True.” Faeyra sighed. “I just don’t like the idea of wasting a potion if it doesn’t affect you.” She said while placing the vial against his palm.
Aldritch stared at the potion for a moment while everyone else popped the cork off their vials and down them in one go. Aldritch tapped Faeyra on the shoulder and passed the vial, still full of blue liquid, back to her. “You’re right. No point in wasting a potion just to sate my curiosity.” He told her.
Faeyra gave him a curious look and the change of heart. She wanted to ask why he wouldn't just take the potion like everyone else had, but the more sensible part of her brain told her not to question it. He probably had his reasons, so she took the potion back with a shrug and returned it to its place inside her bag. "It'll be here if you change your mind." She told him.
"I know. Thanks for keeping it safe for me." He replied while smiling at her.
“Tastes like really strong blueberry syrup.” Zarud said, gagging at the strong aftertaste.
“Could be worse.” Max chuckled. “It used to taste like Troll sweat.” He said before pouring the potion into his mouth.
“Why the hell would it taste like that?” Zarud exclaimed. He stared at the empty bottle in his hand with a look of disgust.
“Because it’s the main ingredient?” Faeyra replied, and laughed at the shiver that ran through Zarud’s body.
The half-orc pulled a canteen from his bag and poured some into his mouth, swished it around violently from one side of his mouth to the other, then spat it in Faeyra’s direction. Then he stuck out his tongue and used his fingers to scrub the taste of potion out of his mouth. “Did you know what it would taste like? Is that why you gave it back?” Zarud whined at Aldritch, still trying to scrub the taste out of his mouth.
“No, the blueberry thing is a surprise to me. I’m used to Troll Skin potions tasting like ammonia.” Aldritch explained with a slight smile on his face.
Zarud blinked in confusion. Noticing that her friend hadn’t understood what Aldritch was saying, Oladi leaned over and whispered something in his ear- which immediately caused his light green skin to turn a shade paler. Zarud couldn’t hold in a gag as he thought about the taste- then he burped, which caused another round of that blueberry aftertaste. “What-” He gagged, “What the fuck is wrong with you people? - Urp.” Zarud asked while rubbing at his stomach.
“Most potions don’t taste pleasant. That’s one of the reasons we don’t drink them without reason.” Faeyra explained while attempting to hide her grin. “Just be glad the recipes have evolved over the years, or we’d still be drinking what Aldritch described.”
“I’d die first, thanks.” Ralocan muttered.
“What he-Urp- He said.” Zarud agreed while pointing at Ralocan.
Aldritch shook his head at their reactions and started walking towards the dungeon. Sometimes you didn't have a choice but to cover your nose and swallow whatever you had to in order to survive.
But Aldritch would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad they hadn’t had to experience such things yet.
A few minutes of walking and listening to Zarud burp brought them to a spot just one street over from the dungeon.
Judging by the way the buildings in this area looked, Sulika was worried they would collapse on top of them at any moment. Whatever damage the demons had done to them was only exacerbated by the damage caused by the fire Aldritch had left in his wake. The smell of charcoaled wood filled their noses so completely they almost couldn’t smell anything else. And there was a strange sensation at the back of their throats, one that brought forth an almost uncontrollable urge to cough. “Hang on.” Sulika whispered and held up her hand just in case they hadn’t heard her. “Masks on. Do it now.” She said, having already grabbed her own mask out of her bag.
“Mask?” Aldritch whispered to her.
Sulika held up a single finger while everyone else put on their rebreathers. Aldritch understood this was important for them, so he stood back and watched.
“Oh, right!” Oakairo exclaimed. “They were wearing those masks when we first met them. I'd almost forgotten about them. How about you?”
Aldritch did remember, he’d just assumed they were some kind of miasma repellant. “Those are… Oxygen purifiers of some kind. Yes?” He asked while leaning in to take a closer look at Faeyra’s mask: It covered about 60% of her face. Starting from the top of her nose, the thin material flowed around her cheekbones, over her jawline, and disappeared beneath the neckline of her shirt. A small cylinder protruded from the front of the mask, exactly over her mouth, that housed a gray filter Aldritch could see. While a small rectangular protrusion that Aldritch couldn’t identify sat on the back of her neck.
“Not exactly.” Derrik said, his own mask making it almost impossible to understand his words. “It takes the air we breathe and recycles it. The filters are enchanted to expel as much toxin as possible, while allowing us to continue breathing. The tanks-” He pointed to a bulge on the side of his neck. “Houses fresh oxygen for us to use. It’s also enchanted to only release oxygen into the filters, prolonging how long we can use it before running out.”
“... Doesn’t that mean you’re constantly on the verge of suffocating?” Aldritch asked. He was curious how they worked, but he could also see the downside to wearing them.
“It’s either that or death by miasma. You get used to the rebreather after a while. While it still sucks, it’s not that bad in practice.” Sulika replied. She was helping Faeyra adjust her mask and walking her through the steps to adjust to the new flow of oxygen.
“I see.” Aldritch nodded in understanding. He wondered if they’d let him disassemble one of their masks once they returned to Azuris? “Well, take your time getting ready to enter the dungeon. The demons don't seem to be interested in searching for us, so you should be safe here until I return.” He told them and turned to walk away.
“Where are you going?” Sulika asked, placing her hand on his bicep to stop him. “We’re a team, remember? And teammates don't go off on their own, that's a good way to get us all killed.”
Aldritch smiled at her. “I know. That’s why I’m trusting you to watch each other’s backs while I eliminate the ranged attacker.” He gently pulled her hand off his arm and stepped away.
"How do you know the demon will attack us at range? What if it's just a look-out and it'll regroup with the others as soon as it thinks something is wrong? Do you still think it's a good idea to go off on your own?" She asked him, more insistently this time.
"Yes. I do." Aldritch firmly replied. Before Sulika could say anything else, Aldritch bent his knees and jumped- the stone road beneath his feet cracked instantly, giving it the appearance of a four-foot-wide spider web. He reached the top of the thirty-foot tall building they were standing beside in the blink of an eye, then kicked off the exterior wall - the wall sank beneath his foot before exploding inwards like a kicked sandcastle, sending a few hundred pounds of debris flying towards the center of the building.
The group watched Aldritch disappear over the top of the building in the blink of an eye.
The hunt was officially on…. “I can see why he left us.” Faeyra muttered.
“Why? Did you have a vision? Is he in danger?” Sulika asked, concerned about what kind of dangers they could be facing-
“Nah.” Faeyra replied, shaking her head. “But if I could do that,” she said, pointing to the wall high above their heads. “I would’ve left us too. He moves faster on his own.”
“... You have a point there.” Sulika sighed.
----------------------------------------
The wind rushed past his ears as Aldritch soared through the air towards the demon waiting on the rooftop. He could see it; red skin, small wings, a fire spell waiting to be launched at the first sign of movement.
In a single motion, Aldritch bit into his tongue and licked the kite shield emblem on his left wrist brace.
The imp had been waiting almost thirty hours for someone to arrive. It’d been told by the boss to wait with the Troll in front of the portal… Pfft, yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
The imp wasn’t stupid. He knew what trolls liked to do to the smaller races whenever they were bored. And he had no intention of having any more holes put into his body. He liked the six he had, thank you very much.
So, he’d ditched the Troll and the Incubus he’d been sent to assist and made a temporary camp on a nearby rooftop. It wasn’t much; the roof was thirty feet wide, forty feet long, and was mostly flat save for the short rampart around it. Which was why he’d been able to set up a small tent, cooking fire, a few chairs, and a keg of sustarin wine to pass the time without the other demons finding him.
He’d just sat down to a dinner of roasted rat when his eyes shifted from his fire to the skies - the sound of a giant dwarf hurtling through the air at the speed of a cocaine infused falcon wasn’t exactly subtle. And had he not been drinking wine for the last few hours; he might’ve noticed the giant sooner.
The imp’s eyes shifted back to the fire in front of him and his bottom lip quivered. In a moment of surprising clarity, the imp knew he was too inebriated to dodge, seated as he was. And the giant was likely far too heavy to block or redirect. With no other recourse, the imp did the only thing he could do: He bit off the roasted rat's head, then flipped the metal cooking rod around and stabbed the pointy end at the giant.
Aldritch called forth a small amount of mana and cast the spell Wyvern’s Retaliation a second before- *Crash!* Aldritch slammed the shield into the imp’s body like a wrecking ball. The demon, cooking rod, and roasted rat splattered against the shield like rotten tomatoes, sending blood, bile, metal pieces and bone in every direction.
.17 seconds after Aldritch reduced a demon to something resembling juice with pulp in it, Aldritch’s spell activated, and he used his shield to cushion the landing. His shield flattened the cooking fire first, scattering the embers and breaking charcoal into ashes. He rolled to his feet after passing the fire, just three feet from the back edge of the roof.
A shockwave erupted from his body just before he would crash through the rampart and fall off.
Because he hadn’t used much mana in the creation of his spell, the shockwave it produced had minimal effect on the building and acted more like a cushion against his chest. With his momentum cut almost in half, Aldritch lightly jumped just before he reached the rampart and bounced over it without breaking the roof.
Aldritch had a brief moment while he was in the air to decide where he was going next. His current landing target was a building pressed against the imp's hideaway. It was just as wide and long, but only half the height; thirty feet instead of sixty.
While falling, Aldritch cast Dragon’s Eye and went looking for the other two demons while his body landed on the other roof - His weight was such that the roof sank beneath his feet the instant he landed, sending him crashing through the ceiling of the apartment beneath him.
He bent his knees to absorb the impact and drove the spike of his shield into the floor to stop him completely - the building shook violently from the impact.
Aldritch held his breath and waited, trying to will himself to be as light as possible so the building wouldn’t collapse on top of him. “It appears I overestimated the load capacity of the building.” Aldritch muttered, somewhat disappointed with himself. If he’d cast a second Wyvern’s Retaliation to cushion his fall, then the roof likely could’ve held on long enough for him to depart.
He looked around the old, dilapidated room he’d fallen into and wondered where he was?
The room was large, and would’ve been spacious had someone not crammed over a dozen bunks inside the room… Though there were three less now.
Aldritch carefully stepped off the broken bed frame and glanced around the room. The only source of light came from the two small, oval-shaped windows high on the walls to his left and right.
A small table had been shoved into the corner of the room, along with four chairs. To Aldritch’s surprise there was a small mountain of decayed food still sitting on plates and in bowls.
“This looks like a barracks. Maybe it was this island's equivalent of the Sentinel’s Roost?” Aldritch said and took a step towards the table- his body froze as his foot landed on something solid… He glanced down at the floor and found a broken picture frame lying beneath his boot.
Aldritch bent down and picked up the frame. He shook the broken glass loose, then snapped the wooden frame between two fingers and pulled the faded photograph from within.
The photo was of fifteen men and women of various races, in matching red outfits. Their faces showed exultation. Relief. Happiness. Emotions they would likely never experience again.
Aldritch carefully folded the photo and placed it into a pouch he kept hidden inside his robe.
“The soldiers were likely getting ready for a meal before the demons showed up.” Oakairo replied, directing Aldritch’s attention back to the table of food. Though his voice was somber, Aldritch could feel the rage bubbling just beneath the surface.
Aldritch grunted his agreement before bending his knees and launching himself out the hole in the roof.
Not willing to repeat his earlier blunder, Aldritch cast Wyvern’s Retaliation just before landing. The spell acted as a cushion, allowing him to land ‘softly’ on the roof instead of crashing through it.
Once his footing was secure. Aldritch took a few steps to build forward momentum then leapt off the roof towards the last place he’d seen Sulika and company. Since the two remaining demons were both on the ground, and were relatively close to each other, there was almost no point in trying to sneak up on them; The moment one fell, the other would notice and go on the attack.
It was time to see what the others could do. Now that they wouldn’t have to worry about being hit from afar, they should be able to handle the other two demons without issue.
Right?