Six of the Cosmic Beasts had been subjugated. Asmodeus, Balam, and Beleth remained.
But nobody knew how much longer Ordo would last with three of the Kreutz Sungrazers still present within its borders. The labcoats could run as many simulations as they want but it didn’t matter. Unexpected variables showed themselves on the regular. It was widely accepted that they could only last for two weeks at most.
Realistically? Not even then.
Time was running out. If they dropped the Barrier, could the world handle the sudden flow of monsters?
Familiar, hard-hitting footsteps rattled the halls. Latham tilted his head towards the source and acknowledged his father simply by a nod. In his hands were small mana crystals that he was inserting into his carbine after being recharged. He'd drained them during his previous rotation with Asmodeus.
Duskfire—as Latham had to call him during work, so that meant all the time—addressed his son curtly, “Have you spoken with Elysian Fourten yet?”
Latham slotted in the crystal. It satisfyingly clicked. “I have but she couldn’t give me any specific details about Balam. Not when it ripped the legs of her mecha off.”
His snark wasn’t taken kindly and earned him a dissatisfied scowl from the Americas’ Chief Slayer. “Let’s go. We’re due for another rotation.”
“Yessir.” Latham gathered his things together and trailed behind Duskfire. They headed towards the commons outside of Busan Naval Base, where most of the participating Slayers were, including the Blazing Bullets. Latham's team.
From what he heard last, Kosmos and Gadabout were currently discussing ways to slay one of the last remaining Beasts, but an actual plan wouldn’t be formulated until hours for now. By the time Latham and Duskfire rotated out, they would probably have something going.
As for Ordo, nobody knew. Communications were still staggered, slow, so neither side knew the full details of the other. One central message was clear though: they hadn’t located any of the Sungrazers in the past week as much as they tried.
And inside that hellhole…
“Do you think he’s doing okay?” Latham asked his father, hoping he’ll show some paternal instinct underneath his flames.
Duskfire knew who “he” was and kept his eyes forward, undisturbed by the sudden mention of his eldest son. “He’ll be fine.”
At first Latham couldn’t speak because he had no fucking idea what to say. His feelings regarding his older brother, Damien, were complex to put it lightly. Too many things happened years ago and he was still working through the memories day-by-day, attempting to cope with the damage that’d been done to their family.
Everyone was at fault during the chaos, no one was completely blameless, but an unspoken agreement was accepted between them. That the Global Guards were responsible for tipping over the dominos in the first place.
Regardless of the grudges he held, Latham wished for his brother’s safety in his fight. Yet…
“Are you sure?” he asked, pushing further as Duskfire visibly did not care for this conversation. “I know you trained him yourself but this is something no one has fought before. Do you really think he’ll be fine in that warzone?”
“Yes,” stated Duskfire, characteristically straightforward. “You said it yourself. I trained him. Your brother is completely cognizant of what's at stake. By now, he probably already done it.”
“Done what?” prodded Latham.
“Reawaken to his powers as a Scion.”
A rush of uncomfortable memories turned his blood cold. “But you sealed his powers. Unless someone else undid his seal for him, he couldn't do that himself."
Duskfire shook his head. “He does.”
“How?”
“Because after I implanted the [Seal of Ignatius], I gave him the knowledge to undo it.”
Latham opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. Only Duskfire could give him a revelation as casual as that, and a crazy one at that. It didn’t make sense. Why would he give his eldest son the very key needed to unlock his own chains?
His father sensed the rising question and answered without needing prompting, “I wanted to be prepared, Dawnfire. For the next tumultuous time or when the Guards decide to seize Damien. Whichever it is, he needs to defend himself. I’ve raised him just like how I raised you. I have faith in his abilities.”
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[Damien "Hellfire Child" Fayer]
STATISTICS Estimated Power E9 Estimated Constitution E9 Estimated Agility E9 Estimated Magick D4
High Imp 4 [E10]
Essence: 0/1391
NEXT LEVEL: Improvement High Imp 5
REQUIRED ESSENCE: 283
HELLFIRE CHILD [S] - TITLE
In your family, you are the only child who holds the Hellfire Scion blood, and perhaps you will be the last.
All Fire-related skills will receive a minor boost in effect.
SKILLS: 5/5 Conjure - Mountains [B]
Mountains are unmovable, permanent things. As the sun may rise and fall, you trust that mountains will remain, forever.
Conjure - Fire [C]
The ambitious burns their trails black while they walk bathing in flames. Who will turn to ashes from their own aspirations, and who will remain?
Lesser Conjuration Destruction [C]
Once in vision of a weak conjuration, you are able to remotely deconstruct the skill and render it mute.
Incomplete Conjure - Ice [C] There will be no one helping you. There will be no one who will take pity on you. Isolation is the ice of man. Loneliness is the frost that kills men. Unbreakable Tongue [C] It takes a great effort to shut you up. You are more resistant to outside interference when concentrating magical-based skills.
HELLFIRE SCION - HONOR
You have released the Seal of Ignatius and adopted your birthright once more as the Hellfire Scion, a bloodline found in only the Fayers. Due to the existence of a parallel power system, the Slayer System had analyzed and integrated the Scion System, allowing you to pursue an unique avenue of development.
Because your father, Ignatius Fayer, had taken most of your original powers, you need to regain your original strength. To better facilitate this process, your Slayer Rank will now be replaced with a Scion Rank.
Individual stats will be available as reference points but they are no longer the main developmental path compared to typical Slayers. Temporary buffs are not considered in these estimates but will be reflected in the Scion Rank if significant enough. All descriptions will be altered to reflect the system overhaul.
By absorbing the Essence of living things, you are able to stockpile this energy to Improve and Advance your Scion Rank.
Each Improvement, increasing your level, will provide increases to your stats and improve your abilities. Each Advancement, increasing your rank, may allow you to restore your original abilities and/or features. Both require a considerable amount of time to complete and will be detailed.
As you progress through the ranks, the cost of Essence will increase. You may also use Essence in replacement of mana. Higher-ranked living things will naturally provide more Essence.
This is an [Honor] reserved for you and only you, Damien Fayer.
Demon Constitution [E]
As the Hellfire Scion, you adopt the constitution of the Hellfire Demon. You experience a drastic reduction of pain. Redundancy systems are built into your body, negating the damage dealt by minor trauma. You are more resistant to mana poisoning.
You are naturally able to use magic without the use of the mana nervous system.
Demon Cognition [E] As the Hellfire Scion, you adopt the psyche of the Hellfire Demon. You suffer from a reduced sense of compassion and remorse. You are naturally resistant against mind-altering magic. Lesser Duskfire [S]
The conjuration skill, Duskfire, is the invention of your father, combining the natural ability to conjure Hellfire with the innovations of this world. This is the greatest treasure of your birthright.
Due to your low Scion Rank, the cost of this skill is greater than the maximum amount of Essence you can store safely. Additionally, Duskfire will suffer from a reduced effect. As a result, this skill has been downgraded.
Essence Conversion [E]
Being the Hellfire Scion, you are able to store great amounts of energy within your body, more so than the average human. You are freely able to convert stored Essence into mana.
As you progress through the levels and ranks, you are able to store more Essence.
EQUIPMENT Ignited Robes Shadowthorn Conjuration Staff Red Barrier Brooch
INVENTORY: 9/20
Protector's Stave High Fire Resistance Potion 5 Healing Potions 5 Mana Potions Sparkling Mana Crystal (65%) Sparkling Mana Crystal (13%) 3 Survival Kits 2 Ordo Teleport Scrolls 4 Quality Healing Potions
----------------------------------------
[Essence: 0/1391]
“Ugh…” Damien fell to one knee as a sudden weakness washed over his body. His mind ran through the possible afflictions dealt to his internal systems from absorbing too much Essence at once.
Hand scrambling it found the inside of his [Inventory] and pulled out a [Quality Healing Potion], popped the cork free using his teeth and downed it. The effects were instantaneously. A warm wave of the mana-concentrated concoction restored whatever damage he inflicted upon himself, allowing him to be mobile within moments. It'd take some time to fully heal but he wouldn’t be a burden now.
Especially when Votary had to babysit him, for whom he gave another potion to.
After she drank it, she climbed back onto her feet and tapped the bottom of her [Aurum Scythe] against the inky ground, Essence drawn from the fallen Ocularfiend that she had killed. The shaft glittered a healing light that fell on their shoulders, restoring themselves further like icing on a sweet cake.
Votary looked beyond Damien and focused attentively on the basilisk that he had killed using [Lesser Duskfire]. It took a second for her to confirm it was dead. “Are you alright, demon?”
“Are you alright, nun?”
She scoffed. “I’m not dressed like a killer nun from the Vatican.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“And I’m not completely a demon either.” Damien approached the burnt corpse of the reptilian monstrosity hiding in the tunnel opening from the northern gate. The smell was awful as most things in war were. He placed a hand against the warm corpse that oozed smoke.
[You cannot absorb any Essence from this creature.]
He sighed.
“What happened?” asked Votary once she caught up to him, handing him his [Shadowthorn Conjuration Staff] that he forgot.
He took it. “I can’t absorb any Essence, probably because I damaged its corpse beyond recovery. [Duskfire] is like that, I’m afraid. I had to use all of my Essence to kill it and then some.”
“There’ll be more monsters for you to extract from,” she reassured him.
“If I beat your scythe to the punch, that is, killer nun.”
“Hmph.” Votary took lead, wordlessly deciding to follow the northern tunnel to wherever the brazier-illuminated stones went—he should’ve studied the map but neglected to. Shame on him for not being a productive member of the team, the team that wasn’t supposed to be clearing out the Gauntlet in the first place.
Using the System, they re-established contact with the group they had separated from earlier. No casualties, no injury to speak about that couldn’t be fixed with healing or modern medicine. But they’d been dispersed greatly throughout the bloodsport corridors of the Gauntlet and it'd take some time for everybody to reconvene.
Damien listened to their conversations, speaking only as needed and allowing Votary to use her precious voice on his behalf, as he silently cursed Darkrealm and insulted every architectural decision of hers. Moving through the tunnel, stepping through a broken gate and taking jagged stairs up to another gate where a bear’s head was nailed above, and further beyond, deeper into this labyrinth.
Conversations came to an end a little after they determined the rendezvous point—some large chamber which would take about twenty minutes of straight navigation (damn you, Darkrealm)—and the next sprawl of critters paid special attention to the ironic team of two. Hound-sized rats. Maybe the size of wolves. Shadows racing through the orange light, echoing sniffles against the walls.
Votary produced [Luna & Ella], her specially-crafted sawn-off shotguns, stepping to the side to wordlessly signal to Damien that he was the better fit here. The hall was as wide as four of him laying together. A perfect field, then.
[Skill Activation: Incomplete Conjure - Ice]
[Skill Activation: Conjure - Mountains]
The temperature dropped by a few degrees and a swath of ice breezed over the uneven stones. Coated them an ugly brownish-gray sheen, stretching out about twenty meters ahead. Next arose a barricade from wall-to-wall comprised of crooked rock-spears like spearmen awaiting their enemy’s cavalry.
And the horrid rodents had no intelligence to comprehend their suicidal charge. If they had, they realized this after their feet scratched against the ice, found themselves turning over and rolling, sliding uncontrollably and fatally towards the conjured crags.
One-by-one the pack skewered themselves against the earthen conjuration. Through torsos, sometimes thick through the skulls even. Some didn’t die immediately, suffering a slow and painful death.
“No fire?” Votary inquired, having taken out her [Aurum Scythe] but from the selflessness in her eyes she wanted him to extract Essence first.
Damien began his extraction. “I wanted to preserve their bodies as much as possible.”
By the time he was satisfied, his Essence was [678/1391], so he allowed Votary to take the rest. Thinking about the long-term, it’d be beneficial to launch an Improvement into High Imp 5; however that took time which wasn’t considered a luxury here. Plus taking into account how abundant Essence was, pushing through the low-ranks would be easy and thus not an immediate issue.
Probably the middle-ranks will be easy to scale compared to his peers in the future, but the high-ranks would be a problem to deal with.
But again, Damien was at least a year away from worrying about those things.
Right now, Essence had more use to him as a secondary (perhaps primary) mana source when the mana crystal in his [Shadowthorn Conjuration Staff] waned. Currently dwelling at sixty-two percent capacity.
Him and Votary exchanged a nod as the conjurations disappeared, the rodents’ corpses falling flat and bloody.
The two ventured deeper into the Gauntlet Layer of Darkrealm’s Hold.
Votary was an A-Rank Slayer, either A2 or A3—Damien forgot which—so she’ll be able to easily handle most monsters, giving him security in thought despite the perilous obstacle course they were moving through. Traps got sprung and monsters were alerted, sometimes both at once, making things particularly tense at times but they pulled through without injury.
But they were going to arrive at the rendezvous point slower than expected.
So would everyone else, because they experienced the same impediments.
“About the Sovereigns’ disappearance…” Damien began as he looked over the ledge, seeing a pool of lava boiling underneath the trap door. He wanted to start a conversation. “What theory do you believe in?”
As he asked that, Votary was wiping away dark blood off the barrel of [Luna] with her sleeves. “I think they were outworlders and went back to their homeworld. Why do you ask?”
The lava popped, a small glob shooting so high that Damien stepped back in fear of a gruesome death. “If Darkrealm’s still alive after all this time, I’m going to murder her.”
She opened her mouth to protest but she probably realized she agreed. Just not verbally, of course, to maintain a good image.
They continued, doing their best to look out for any traps but Darkrealm had designed the Gauntlet so that only the best trackers could detect them.
Damien was practically tip-toeing around, being the most paranoid he’d ever been. “My father trained me for a lot of things but this wasn’t one of them. I wish I could burn this place down but no, Darkrealm imbued one of the best restoration effects into a literal torture chamber.”
“I thought it was chronomancy,” Votary responded as she was doing the same thing. This was well out of her specialization.
“Is it?” Damien noticed a stone that popped out too well amongst its friends so he gingerly stepped over that one. “I’ve done one assignment on Darkrealm’s Hold but that was two years ago. Is it really chronomancy?”
“I think so. I’ve read it in an article once. When she first created the Hold, she created a save-state. So whenever something is damaged or destroyed, it’ll automatically revert back the condition it was in.”
“That’s an ingenious way of ensuring your legacy. Instead of investing heavily into restoration magic, just dabble a bit into chronomancy.” Damien hopped over another suspicious stone. Better safe than sorry. “But as intelligent Darkrealm was, I wish she wasn’t actually insane. And I’m the demon here.”
Votary sighed. She was annoyed but he couldn’t determine if it was from his complaining or the mad inventor's masterwork. “Did Duskfire only teach you conjuration?”
“Mainly conjuration.” Damien instinctively reached his hand out for the nearby wall for extra balance, but he hesitated. Then decided to go without. “And passing on his wisdom and things like that. What fathers usually do for their sons. What about you? Where did you learn how to fight?”
“The instructors at Giants Protection,” she answered, her eyes glazed with fondness. “If they have to say one thing about me, then they’ll tell you how much of a good student I was although I’d always fight them on it. You see, I wasn’t a good student. At least not in the beginning.”
“Really? You look like a teacher's pet to me, the kind of girl who'd snitch on her fellow orphans.”
Votary pouted, pretending to ignore that. “I wanted to be a Slayer since I was eight or nine.”
Damien contemplated for a moment; she was twenty-four now. “Was that during Kosmos’s time?”
“It doesn't matter; Kosmos is a fairy tale ever since he left the Protection. But I did something similar when he was still in the orphanage: I would sneak out after curfew to secretly train with the bo staffs they had lying around.”
Damien laughed to himself. That was a funny picture to imagine: a little Kezia Astaril doing her best to swing a bo staff twice her height. “A devil child.”
“I’m not a devil,” she said again, huffing. “As for bad things I did as a kid, that was all! Well, maybe except stealing a cookie or two but that's everything. Swear on my heart."
“Alright alright, I’ll believe you,” he lied. For a moment he almost forgot that they were walking through a trapped corridor and had to correct himself.
Again, Votary pretended to ignore him. She rubbed her forehead. “Anyway, I was eventually caught by my instructors. And that’s how it started. Because of them, I wouldn’t be here. Being in Angels, in High Dominion, is one of the greatest achievements in my life.”
Her sincerity was infectious.
“So,” Damien started, “were you inspired by these instructors?”
She nodded. “I was, and still am.”
“What’re their names?”
Votary hesitated to answer, glancing down at [Luna] in her right hand. “Instructor Luna and Ella Stainthorpe. They were twins.”
Oh, so that's where those names came from. Damien knew better than to comment and risk being insensitive. At the same time he didn’t know if he ought to give his condolences. A troublesome puzzle.
She sensed his discomfort and followed up on her statement: “Don’t force yourself to say something nice, demon.”
“If I did, would you feel any better?”
“No, I think I’ll feel better if you make good on your promise about Darkrealm.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
After a few minutes of careful travel, they turned the corner and found themselves facing an odd sight. According to Votary, as she cross-referenced their location on the map, they were in the Marble Gladiator Exhibit where, as the name suggested, a singular marble statue magnificently stood at the center of the room.
The marble pictured a violent clash. A Roman gladiator shoved his short sword deep into the underbelly of a ferocious lion, which stood tall on its hind legs with its jaw opened wide, facing the hard shield of the warrior. Both caught deep in the bloody battle, and it’d end seconds later with one of them dead.
Reflecting the battle was the actual battle that had taken place in the Exhibit: ironically enough, strange lion-inspired beasts scattered across the room with several pressed against the base of the sculpture itself. But none had vicious wounds from swords or any typical weapon you’d expect.
Rather, as Damien approached one carefully, something was trailing off its fur like smoke on a fire: electronic-blue zeros and ones. Binary code. Slowly, like an antivirus program scrubbing a computer, the corpse was disappearing. Being erased.
“...Votary, do we have a technomancer?” asked Damien, because he didn’t know any in the current roster.
Votary was scrolling through the System. “I’m looking right now. It’ll be in one of the expeditionary teams but I don’t remember seeing a technomancy specialization anywhere in the list—”
A man coughed, his hoarse voice bouncing off the walls, sounding like death. Immediately Damien and Votary produced their signatures and searched for the source, but they wasted the effort as the unknown man was emerged from behind the sculpture. He made no attempt to identify himself unless someone was supposed to recognize him by cough.
From a single look alone, Damien knew that this man did not belong to Ordo.
His outfit was too distinctive to go unnoticed. The man was hunched over and supported himself using a sharp cane. He wore a sage’s coffee-black robes, which had several layers underneath in dim colors, with strange calligraphy stitched across every inch of the fabric. The man coughed again, adjusting the blue shawl draped around his head and shoulders, allowing better sight of the very same calligraphy found on his robes.
His scraggly gray beard hung low. When the man creaked his head up, there was a mask covering the upper half of his face: white, where the left eye was extended outward like a telescope.
The strange wizard reached into his robes, causing the two Ordoians to flinch and raise their weapons, but all he pulled out was a pill. He dry-swallowed it.
“It’s not technomancy,” said the stranger exhaustedly, like a teacher being frustrated at his students, “a valid deduction but as you can see.” He prodded a corpse with his cane. “It’s flesh and not copper wires. You can’t manipulate technology if there is no technology to manipulate. For all the power you both hold in your rotten carcasses, collectively you have two brain cells to think with.”
“Who are you?” demanded Votary with [Luna] poised to blow a hole into the man’s chest. “We would’ve recognized a Slayer like you.”
And how was he able to enter Darkrealm's Hold? It's been guarded by us throughout the Disaster. Damien added, “We’re smart enough to remember someone like you.”
“I fortunately make a profound impression on people. They often say I'm the reason why they gave up on the sciences,” the man said and laughed, giving cause to another harsh cough.
The pair exchanged the most confused yet anxious glance amongst each other.
“What do you want?” Damien asked, lowering his staff. Votary lowered her weapon. “If you can do this to the lion-things, then we’re not much of a threat to you.”
“That,” began the man, “is the correct assumption to make. Initially I visited the Hold for some meaningless investigation but an expedition team filled with worthless Slayers decided to interrupt it.” He paused suddenly. "But I'll put an end to my comedy routine. You may be stupid but even an idiot knows when his life is in danger, yes? Nod your head."
They hesitated but after a few moments, they did.
"See? You're better than most imbeciles: they can't follow directions. I digress. The Disaster is rapidly approaching its denouement. With the surveillance I've performed on the Sungrazers—" ("You're doing what?" Votary interrupted,) "—don't speak when I'm talking, child. The Sungrazers have some infernal plan. More than the explosions rattling the streets of Dawns currently.”
Damien was confused. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, Dawns is going through yet another attack while you were down here.”
”What—?”
”That means Ordo’s time is approaching its end faster than you think. And after the bombings in Dawns, the next and final attack will affect the entire city. The entire city! I am not certain how or to what effect, but I’d wager that the Five Pillars—Four Pillars—will play an instrumental part. I will do my best to aid you but my orders are to keep my involvement to a minimum. So listen here, Scion.”
Damien was shocked into silence. Almost no one knew what a Scion was.
The man continued, “You’d best ensure that this operation is a success and you have recruited the Void Demon. You need that monstrosity if you want Ordo to survive after this.”
“Who are you?” quietly asked Damien, afraid.
“A tired old man. Wish not for shooting stars, Fayer and Astaril.”
Damien was shoved by a sudden gust of wind, stumbling until Votary caught him from behind. Briefly the braziers’ fires were extinguished, but thanks to the Hold’s self-restoration, the flames rekindled themselves and brightened the Exhibit once more.
The corpses and the mysterious prophet vanished.
Before they could process what occurred, multiple sets of footsteps clamored from the eastern hallway. A silver-haired man donning a bodysuit, wielding a grainy rifle in his hands—Fusil, Mark Hugo; a towering knight in armor that warded off all evils—Ivory Knight of High Dominion; and a levitating, small figure that Damien knew quite well—Problem.
Mark was the first to ask, “What’s going on? We were coming to you but you didn’t return our messages. You alright?”
Votary gulped, glancing at Damien before taking a few moments to recompose herself. They exchanged glances and awkward gestures before the Angel took the floor. She told everyone of the unexpected encounter with the robed man. Every detail she could remember.
“And he told us to…” she said, still trying to make heads and tails of his words, “...to ‘wish not for shooting stars’.”
Problem, who had been admiring the gladiator sculpture, stiffened when wearing her say that. He turned his head over his shoulder. “...Is that true?”
She nodded profusely and genuinely. “Yes, I’m not lying! Damien can vouch for me.”
“Mhm, the conversation happened not even a minute before you arrived.”
“I see.” Problem turned back to the sculpture.
Ivory Knight asked, voice deep as expected for a man of his size, “Is there some significance in those words?”
The ritualist shook his head. “No. We’ll inform the others about what happened but our focus remains on the Void Demon and Ordo as a whole. We’ll have no need for miracles—we’ll create them for ourselves.”