Darkness had a way of following me around. As if my drab noir lifestyle wasn’t enough, my employment and hobbies had to revolve around plunging me into the night, the abyss, or the void. It only made sense - I was the Last Lantern, apparently my existence was to burn brightly as the last hope of mortals against the encroaching end days. Or something less cliche, I had hoped. Despite my intentions, it seems fate had a way of kicking dirt in my eyes whenever it seemed most amusing.

But I was not amused.

[This is not a good situation, Eric]

My patron hovered down, now part mist again. Made sense that he wouldn’t want to fall in the muck, or whatever this was… my eyes darted around. As they became more used to the gloom, I picked out floating shapes of cartoony pigmen corpses - the occasional head with crosses for eyes. A pit full of piss and corpses.

“I have a deal to make with you all.” I held my empty hand up to the figures in the dark. “Who amongst you would like to be the new King?”

The brief pause of confusion was all I needed. Sure, I could use three seconds to return home, or I could fire shots off in the dark and succumb to an unseen pigman or disease-induced malady. Or, I could kill all fucking demons, starting with the one I hated the most at present.

I flicked the revolver up towards the hole in the floor where we had fallen. It looked to be about twenty feet, although I was always terrible with numbers. Angled slightly, I closed one of my eyes to aim.

The fifteen-foot wide beam of demonic energy created a new hole through the floor, and with a loud screech, it sounded like my shot was on target. Some rough chunks of flesh-colored parts clattered wetly down into the pool ahead of me. Maybe intestines or something. My broken vision refused to elaborate.

“The first one to his crown wins!” I beamed and made to run for it myself, but stopped as the ploy worked, and the pigmen started clambering over each other towards the hole.

[This will make parlay difficult.]

I turned to my patron and wrinkled up my face. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said that he was smiling - the beak was a little harder to read than the toothed maw had been. “It’s not fun in this place.”

[Agreed.]

How I was meant to get out of the pit now, I wasn’t so sure. A grappling hook or some manner of flying would be neat - shame Wight was neither. I held my free hand over my eyes to block what light was now cascading through the two gaps in the floor above. Looking around the pit itself, there didn’t seem to be much other than dead bodies and - oh, some kind of tunnel. Had it been there all along? Strange.

I sloshed my poor clothing through the thick sludge of decayed matter and fresh offal, thankful that visually it wasn’t as horrifying as it smelled. “You know, I had just had a bath before I came out.”

[How would I know that?]

“No, it’s not- I didn’t mean.” Wow, this air was starting to get to my head - dizzying. I tried holding my breath as I stumbled into the alcove, which led to a darkened brick tunnel. The brickwork was surprisingly… proficient? It was hard to tell in this darkness, with my eyes all fuzzy. I dropped the possession, and Wight pooled in his mist form behind me - his red eyes softly illuminating the nearby area.

[You could just go home now.]

“I know, I know, I know, and I know.” Shush brain. There was some unfinished business here - if the Org was dangling promotion over this Quest going well, then I wasn’t about to shoot my load and then roll over and sleep immediately. I had to put in work to impress her. Them. What?

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I breathed out and let my demonic power circle around my system. Corruption was getting worse, and I had started to lose it - but with concentration, I could lower the problems. Put them into boxes and shove them under the stairs. The question was - is the decision to stay part of the crazy Eric or the sane one?

Yes.

As we progressed further, the level of stagnant muck began to recede until it was just ankle deep - and then, shortly, occasional puddles. Perhaps the tunnel was ascending slightly. Perhaps it went on forever. Perhaps this was my life now. Had I always lived in the tunnel? It was becoming all the more likely, and all the more lickable. “Where are we going, Wight?”

[Unknown. Possibly to some kind of test.]

Of course. Now it made a little bit more sense. A wave of normality flooded down my spine as the realization became apparent. Biggus Piggus had been just a ruse to get me roiled up in some danger. Something untoward brewed down in the guts of this town, and not just the King’s last few meals. Whoever had built this tunnel… oh, maybe I built this tunnel? Brickwork seemed familiar, brick - brick, and brick. All of them I remembered.

But then, a light shuddered across my vision ahead. Green glow across the end of the tunnel - an opening. Green was a color you did not see in the Hells often. Well, not in terms of energy, which just sounded weird the more I chewed on it. Energy.

[Be wary, Eric.]

Too busy being Eric to be Wary; make up your mind. “Oh, I said that in my head.”

[I will force your escape if you do not pull yourself together.]

I wasn’t sure how he planned on doing that and had no inclination to find out. “Gee whiz, okay.” Another deep breath - at least the air was clearer here. Maybe trying to keep all my demonic power in my head would help. Worth a try.

We reached the opening, and the tunnel opened up to a chamber. A roving orb of green light circled around the ceiling, illuminating a wide pedestal in the middle of the room. Atop this pedestal was some kind of locked box or case.

“Any ideas, bud?”

[Yes.]

I narrowed my eyes at him, and he turned his beak towards me. There was no question about it; this would be what the Org was after. Maybe. What I really wanted to know, however, was, did I want it?

Surely if it was some tome of secret information, a legendary artifact, or a pulsing beacon of demonic power - Eric the Redd could make good use of it. They were watching, though. Was this part of the test?

“What should I do?”

[Your fate is in your own hands, Eric.]

Hmm. I wasn’t entirely sure that was accurate. Part of me felt like I had been tipped down a slide of razor blade and pigshit, and my choice was how infected I wanted to get. Surely the pigmen knew this was here? If they didn’t want to eat it or fight over it, then it might be something really bad.

I slowly walked towards it. The floor of the chamber had a thin layer of mist, and I was immediately cooled from the sensation - my sanity slowly coming home to roost. This was not part of the Quest brief, so I didn’t feel bad about investigating thoroughly. My feet stopped, and I was before it.

My cold sweat was starting to dry up in the oddly chilly air, and I held out a hand toward the case. It looked to be made of a dark metal, in an odd, almost alien design. Beautiful and well-crafted despite its simplicity.

As my left hand moved towards it, I felt something was off. I paused to watch the green light continue to circle the room. If there was any place for a trap, this seemed like the most obvious.

“Are you able to check for anything malign in the room?”

[This whole place is malign as shit, Eric.]

That was the response I was expecting. I lowered my hand. The only way this could spell trouble any clearer was if it was written on the walls in blood. I turned slowly to observe the brickwork, not quite sure what to expect. Little holes where poison darts could shoot out? A puzzle to complete to avoid the looming curse? Something cliche like that, no doubt. Unfortunately, nothing seemed amiss - which was when you knew things were most amiss.

“I’m trying to avoid the inevitable,” I spoke out loud to myself. Wight could tell and didn’t respond. If the Org had a view on the matter, did they have a way of letting me know? Other than breaking the return portal, I didn’t think so.

I cursed at myself and wiped the grime from my forehead with my normal human hand. My clothing was normal now, too. Slowly, my eyes returned to the mysterious chest. Cartoons were over, the credits had rolled, and we were well past the watershed. Well then.

My hand went back out. Shaking now. Slowly, I put it down atop the metallic box. Very cold, very smooth. Nothing reality-shattering there - just a neat case. I gulped, and my hand slid down to the clasp at the front. It had a rounded design on it, engraved in some shape that wasn’t familiar to me. Before doing the deed, I looked to Wight.

[I do not know.]

I nodded, and with a deep breath, I opened up the case.

Light flooded the room and blinded me. Green and white.

Panic, and then calm.

I blinked several times to adjust to the new lighting. Shapes came into view.

With all the willpower I had, I fought the urge to gouge my eyes out with the tip of the revolver barrel.