Congratulations! You have reached level 3 in Demagogue! At level 3, you can now choose which branch of Demagoguery to specialize in—the Charisma-focused Master Manipulator, or the combat-focused Chaos Commander. These are called class subspecialties, or subclasses.
The Master Manipulator subclass gains the following skills upon leveling up:
* [Sow Conspiracy]: If your Charisma is higher than the target, plant a highly contagious conspiracy in their head that they will spread to others.
* [Illusion of the Other]: Create an illusory figure that represents whatever your target fears most—a vampire, a werewolf, a dreaded middle school math teacher. This works on all targets, even those with Charisma higher than your own.
* [Cult of Personality II] -> [Cult of Personality III]: You can appoint up to 10 Loyal Followers, and each of those followers gains bonuses in Stealth, Sleight of Hand and Deception.
The Chaos Commander subclass gains the following skills upon leveling up:
* [Charismatic Aura]: Project an aura of inspiration that bolsters the confidence and combat abilities of those in your immediate surroundings.
* [Crowd Control I] -> [Arm the Masses]: An upgrade of your Crowd Control skill becomes Arm the Masses, which allows you to turn any large group of people into a rabid, demon-possessed mob fighting for your cause, as long as you have Neutral or Greater approval with them. Each individual member of the mob will gain bonuses to all their base skills.
“The System is giving me a choice?” Momo said, gobsmacked. “This stupid thing never gives me choices.”
She and Sumire were descending down a set of spiral stairs into Morganium’s dungeons. The journey downwards was a long and tedious one, and Momo took the opportunity to review her new class upgrade in the meantime.
“Oh ho ho, lucky you. Only a rare few classes have subclasses,” Sumire said. “I think there used to be more, but the Gods hated dealing with the added paperwork, so they scrapped them.”
“Hm. Given how things are run up there—or, err, were, run up there, before Valerica arrived, I don’t really blame them. It was basically just Morgana and a file shredder.”
“True. That saucy mentor of yours really buttoned the place up. Better skill descriptions, less passive aggressive couriers. I even started getting those audio couriers now, and they all have this vaguely condescending voice…”
“That’s her. That’s Valerica’s voice.”
Sumire laughed. “She made herself the voice of the System?”
“She’s a narcissist and good at her job. A multifaceted woman.”
The two laughed, continuing to chat idly as they descended the staircase. Sumire ran her hand along the stoney, uneven wall, her other hand holding a torch. The faint light illuminated the claustrophobic tower.
They arrived shortly at a dead end at the very bottom, where two knightly lizardmen stood on either side of a curved steel door, each wearing dark green necromancer regalia. It was the color of the queendom; all of the threads were now sewn by Lorvis, former devout of the Dawn and now Morganium’s appointed highest tailor.
“Queen.” They bowed in unison. “Do you seek to talk to the prisoner?”
Momo nodded. “Yep. Jarva’s eighth tentacle, or whatever his name is.”
“You mean… Gorim von Haus Aloysius, madam?”
“Yeah, that guy,” Momo said, and frowned. “That title, does it like… mean something? You guys look distressingly nervous just saying it out loud.”
“The Haus Aloysius is the founding house of our nation,” the guard on the left said nervously, all but disappearing into his armor. “I’m sure you know the fable. Aloysius was the Hero of the Sun. The one who broke Alois out of the Era of Blood Tyranny. The prisoner, Gorim, is one of his only direct descendants.”
Momo froze. The Era of Blood Tyranny. She remembered hearing that somewhere. Ah, right. It was explained in that item description for the Bracelet of Blood Immortality—the bracelet (and other legendary gear) that she had handed off to Vivienne in exchange for information on Sera and the Wraith Box.
The Era was supposedly a period of time where Alois was run by vampires. And it ended when Aloysius staked the main vampire girl—Elvira—straight through the heart. Momo hadn’t heard much more than that on it, so she wasn’t sure whose side to take. All she knew was that if yesteryear’s events were quite like today’s, there was probably a lot of moral grayness going on between the sides of good and evil.
“Coming from that bloodline, he is the only mortal upon Alois to carry the blood of Kyros. The only reason we were able to subdue him is, well, he does not carry the craftiness nor… intellect of Kyros. We caught him off-guard—much thanks to your highness’s creative techniques, or so we hear—so we were able to subdue him using a [Nether Enclosure].”
“Well done.” Momo smiled.
“Thank you, m’lady,” the guard said, stuttering. He pressed his hand to the door, and a magic sigil flared on the steel. “Come this way. We’ll show you to him.”
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As they stalked through the shadowy corridors, Momo studied the parchment once more. She weighed the options, unused to being offered a genuine choice by the system. Not that the selection was much different from the usual choices it presented her; she couldn’t exactly pick something more desirable like “Cat Petter” or “Queen Who Everyone Loves and Respects.” No, it had already pre-assigned her as evil and crazy—so here she was, picking between the two.
On a more practical level, that upgraded version of [Crowd Control], [Arm the Masses], made a lot of sense to choose if Morganium were to be invaded. It would allow her to easily and quickly strengthen the average citizen, or undead citizen, in the city in case they were suddenly required to fight on her behalf.
But… Momo really didn’t like the idea of putting her people in danger. Or, well, putting any old person in trouble, whether it be the chef at This is Pizza or her Sumire. The way Momo felt, any potential invader was solely her problem—a problem she brought upon herself, being who she was, being what she represented—and she’d solve it as such.
So she crossed out Chaos Commander, and frowned.
If you lined up all my class names next to each other, you’d think I’m insane.
Momo the Ripper, great Demagogue, Master Manipulator, and Nether Goblin. Also, actually a really chill girl, actually. If you get to know her.
Once I get to the Nether, I swear I’m forcing Valerica to give me better class options.
You have selected the Master Manipulator subclass! Enjoy weaving your web of lies!
Momo shook her head, watching as the parchment evaporated into thin air. Simultaneously, they passed through a rippling bubble of Nether, led through by the guards.
“We have several [Nether Enclosures] keeping Gorim in,” he explained. “You know, it’s a funny coincidence, this chamber just came with a bunch of pre-built mechanisms for entrapping people of extreme magic. It was littered with mana-sapping handcuffs, enchanted restraints… Jarva was obviously storing some heavy cargo here before we took over the place.”
Momo’s eyes widened. Sera. The Necropriest had been a captive prisoner in Jarvirium before the prisoner exchange took place in Nam’Dal. She had been wearing those very mana-sapping chains, caged in that infernal Dogubis. Momo wondered, briefly, what became of the hound. He was cute, aside from all that trying-to-kill-her behavior.
But it’s always the owner, not the dog.
“The prison was luckily a perfect fit for a Knight of the Sun,” the guard continued. “With no sunlight to feed on, he’s all but powerless. But we took the extra precautions, even so.”
After passing two more enclosure layers, they were led through a series of tunnels, each equipped with flailing axes, fireball traps, horrific mirror mazes, and then finally, a simple, steel-rail door. The guard inserted a key, the key clicked, and they were led into a chamber where Gorim was sitting on the floor, head hung, feet and hands chained.
“Oh, have you pitiful lizard gobs come to tend to me again? I’d rather choke than eat more of your sad, pitiful porridge. What you call fine dining in this putrid excuse for a capital is like eating raw, unseasoned rocks off a goat’s behind—”
“Shut up,” Sumire said, rolling her eyes. “We aren’t here to feed you sweet rolls.”
The Knight of the Sun looked up, his blonde hair falling over his eyes, and his mouth dropped.
“It’s you,” he said, utterly speechless. He wasn’t looking at Sumire—but at Momo.
She laughed nervously.
“It’s… me?”
“Captain Coco,” he explained, his face falling into a grave scowl. “The supposed registered sea scavenger that led me astray back at sea. You filled my mind with these… concoctions. Visions of grandeur. Your poison led me all the way here, and then chained me to these very floors. By Kyros, I will have your tiny, miniscule head, you dastardly pirate—”
“Yeah, that’s not my name,” Momo said, shrugging. “And I’m not a pirate. I’m Momo.”
He stared at her, abruptly stopping his tirade.
“Momo? Like the… like the Queen of the Undead, Momo?”
Momo blushed. “Queen of the Undead? Is that really what they’re calling me over in Jarva-land?”
“Huh. Sexy,” Sumire said, smirking. “And accurate.”
“I mean, I’d say Babysitter of the Undead, maybe…” Momo mumbled.
“Don’t downplay yourself.”
“Enough! Stop it this instant with your lies!” Gorim roared, shaking in his chains. He thrust his body forward, but he could only wriggle like a worm, his torso and legs wrapped in corrosive metal. “Gah. I need not waste my breath. You will all be sorry when Jarva’s ships land upon your coast, when his tentacles wrap around your feeble throats—”
“Mm. Yeah, about that. That’s kind of why we’re here,” Momo said, squatting down to face him. “The big guy is kind of taking a while. And I don’t have a while.”
“Don’t act so cocky. He is close, and you should be afraid,” he growled. “I can feel it in my very blood, his tentacles inch near.”
“Gross,” Momo said, cringing. “I don’t need to hear anything more about his tentacles, thanks. What I do need to hear about is something called the … uh … what was it? Something Islands?”
“Uninhabitable islands, your highness,” Sumire teased.
As the name of the islands left Sumire’s lips, Momo immediately activated [Silent Mindreader], staring straight through to Gorim’s retinas.
“I know nothing of which you speak,” he said, but his face had begun to sweat.
Be measured, Gorim. The mark cannot know what lies within the island.
Hearing the man’s thoughts, goosebumps ran up Momo’s skin. Her breath caught in her throat. The mark. Lione’s words echoed through Momo’s head—In order for the husk to flourish, the soul who is marked for death must die.
Her heart picked up speed like a combustion engine. That poor gerbil had to be doing jumping jacks. All the facts sizzled in her mind like eggs on a frying pan, her memories of the last few weeks assembling like jigsaw pieces.
If the husk was the Wraith Box, and Momo was truly the mark, and the pantheon—including Kyros—was all working in unison with Sera to undo Morgana’s hold on the universe, then everything that had happened since she ascended the throne was far more interconnected than she had realized.
This was not a conspiracy of a single insane necromancer, but a total revolution of the heavens.
“What lies on the island?” she pressed, leaning towards him with an urgency.
His eyes widened, and she cast the spell again.
She quoted my thoughts like a newspaper. As suspected, she is a damned mindreader.
Momo groaned. Damn it. She had been too obvious, repeating his exact words like that.
“I will give you nothing,” he spat, and reclined backwards into the shadows.
She sighed, standing up. It wasn’t worth berating herself. The mindreading spell had hit a cooldown either way—she wouldn’t be able to cast it again for another half an hour.
“That’s fine. Information isn’t really what I came here for, anyway,” she said, and slowly dragged her hand upwards. “Sumire, why don’t we show the blood of Kyros some hospitality?”
Sumire grinned, and pulled out her scimitar.