Hunter withdrew the Pilfer Summoning Token from his storage ring. The blood-colored pearl was slightly smaller than a soul gem, and it felt heavier than it should. It was like holding a piece of tungsten when he was only expecting steel. There was a weight to it that spoke to the power it contained.

Hunter walked over to a nearby boulder half-buried in the gray snow. With a flap of his wings, Aquila settled on a nearby branch.

You don’t have to summon the black-soul right now. You can wait until you get to the Keeper’s nest.

Hunter knew the bird was somewhat right. He knew he didn’t finish the quest that the Keeper had assigned to him. If he was going to learn what the price was, it was better he learned it now rather than later.

You’re right. I could. However, if I show up to the monastery without fully completing the quest, I would bet that the Keeper has a nasty surprise for disobedience. I can’t fight the Keeper head-on. The power they possess is overwhelming.

The eagle studied Hunter with a calculating eye.

If you aren’t strong enough to defeat your opponents directly, you must be smarter than them. You must dive from a far enough distance away that they won’t know you’re there until your talons are closing on their throat.

Hunter found the eagle’s mindset increasingly endearing. Aquila was right, of course. He had a surprise planned for the Keeper, and it centered on his Mind of Will path. When the pilfer had flooded Hunter’s body with infernal faith, he could’ve let his mask keep absorbing it, but at a certain point, the demon would’ve noticed that something was wrong. All it took was a backhand from a pilfer to end his little adventure.

He had willingly allowed the infernal faith to corrupt him. It was a gamble, but it had paid off. Hunter didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if the Sentinel hadn’t gifted him the power to resist greed’s insidious touch.

Hopefully, he could pick Mind of Will and absorb the soul gems he had retrieved from the Outpost at just the right moment. It might be enough power to disrupt whatever ritual the Keeper had planned. The Sentinel had certainly thought that was the case, and Hunter was willing to trust her. She had done nothing wrong by him. Even the Archivist was looking less like a dick in comparison to the Keeper and his cronies.

That’s the plan, Aquila. The first step is convincing the pilfer to leave my family alone. If I can’t convince the demon, then what hope do I have of fooling the Keeper?

The bird didn’t answer, but Hunter could feel his satisfaction at Hunter’s reply. Having the bird nearby made him feel better. He had been alone in the Rift with no one to trust. The eagle’s worldview was simple, and its simplicity gave Hunter the strength and confidence he needed to survive the next phase of his plans.

With a sigh, Hunter stared at the token in his palm. He realized that the pilfer hadn’t given him any instructions on how to use the item. He tried to remember the process the demon had used to create the token in the first place. There were threads of mana and a small amount of soul energy that was used in its construction.

Hunter tried to replicate the same weave of energies, but the construct slipped out of his mental grasp every time he tried. Thankfully, nothing happened when the magic failed, but it was a frustrating experience nonetheless. After a few attempts, he growled under his breath and gave up.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Well, if I can’t do it the technical way, I guess I’ll try to brute force approach.

The warrior poured mana and soul energy until the token. It flowed from him a tornado of spectral power. He focused the brewing storm into the token, and it started to heat up. He hissed as the token began to scorch the skin of his hand but continued the effort. After half a minute, a crack splintered into being. Blood-colored light filtered from the gap before the entire thing exploded into glass-like shards.

Hunter looked down at his palm in shock. He hadn’t meant to break it. An alien voice in his mind soon put the thought to rest.

Why have you summoned me? Are you in danger?

The tri-tone discordant voice was immediately familiar.

No Mol’godor. I’m calling because the task has been completed.

There was a pause on the other end of their communication. Finally, the pilfer spoke.

I’ll be there shortly.

Hunter sighed. The easy part was over. It was somewhat unsettling that the demon was going to show its face. Hunter wished that it would tell him everything was fine and high-tale it back to the Keeper’s fortress.

The teenager’s ass had begun to grow sore from sitting on the rock when the rustling of wind heralded something or someone quickly incoming. Hunter slid off the rock and brandished his staff, but he didn’t have anything to worry about.

A tiefling strode through a couple of trees. Hunter assumed it was Mol’godor, but he couldn’t be sure. In his limited experience, pilfers looked and acted the same. He wasn’t sure if he had met one, two, or even three different demons. He wished he had known about the name thing earlier.

“Mol’godor?”

“Who else would it be, Vessel?”

Hunter sighed. “I don’t know. You guys look all the same.”

“That’s rather bigoted of you, human. I could say the same thing about you. Two legs, two arms, frail flesh—really, you all look hideous to me.”

Hunter’s mouth flopped open. A demon was calling him bigoted?

“Relax, Vessel, it’s a joke. Well, partly. Humans are ugly creatures.”

The pilfer neared Hunter and then studied the teenager with a severe eye.

“Something is off about you, Vessel. If I’m not mistaken, you’re not nearly as attuned to the infernal as you were when I left you.”

Hunter shrugged. “Killing and absorbing the soul gems of the tieflings must have been increased my attributes enough to diminish the effects of your conversion.”

The eye at the center of the pilfer’s palm narrowed. “That’s possible if they all had higher than average WIllpower…”

“Still,” the pilfer continued. “That is highly unusual. Tieflings don’t usually have elevated Willpower.”

The demon raised its hand and studied the Outpost in the distance.

“It seems like you missed some of them, Vessel.”

Hunter winced. “I got all of them I found. Maybe there were one or two that were hiding.”

“No, no. I sense three of them. They’re brazenly walking down the center of the street.”

The teenager scratched the back of his head awkwardly and shifted his feet. “Well, two of them are my grandparents.”

The pilfer returned his gaze to Hunter. “So?”

“So, I don’t want to kill them. I killed everyone else. Surely, that’s enough for the ritual?”

“No, it isn’t. Even if it were, the Keeper ordered you to slay all of them. We aren’t in the business of ignoring the Keeper’s orders.”

Hunter wondered where this ‘we’ part originated from. He had been an unwilling participant this entire journey.

Well, that isn’t entirely true, he amended.

He only had one card to play. “Well, I’m not going to kill them, and there isn’t anything you can do about it.”

All nervousness was banished from Hunter’s body language. His eyes were hard, and he was gripping his staff with both hands. In a fraction of a second, he was prepared to use one of a dozen different moves against the demon. There must have been something in his posture that warned the pilfer. It wasn’t scared by any means, but it seemed amused and exasperated. Like a parent who found their child throwing a tantrum over something petty.

“You’re right after a fashion. There’s nothing I can do to you directly. However, I can make their deaths slow and tortuous instead of quick and painless.”

Hunter didn’t reply. Even if the pilfer killed them, that was a half-step better than him doing it himself. Questions of morality aside, he could justify to himself a demon doing what demons are known to do. He wasn’t sure if he could justify his own hand in their death.

“Oh? That still isn’t going to convince you? Fine. We’ll take them with us. The Keeper will decide.”