More than ever, I felt composed lately. Not exactly dancing to the tune of others, but built with more concerted effort. I had gone from walling in misery in a cluttered apartment to having a true existence in a mansion. It had taken effort and suffering, but every fall seemed to end up raising me higher. I didn’t worry myself with the limits of that. I’m sure the headache as I struck the pinnacle would be enough of a signal.
There were murmured voices outside, approaching our convoy as it slowed to a stop.
“You’re late, asshole.”
“The goons got into a bar fight, had to knock them off myself.”
Second voice was Hoff from the wagon ahead of ours. The croc-demons had replaced the previous workers to get the show on the road. There was a moment of pause where I considered my gang might be too well known to pull this off, but I threw caution to the wind and gave it a few kicks to the stomach, to be sure.
[Are you okay, Eric? You seem on edge.]
“Considering our position, that doesn’t seem unusual.” Perhaps it was because I was practically salivating at the thought of springing this ruse on whoever was running this show. Hungry for the chance to kill all demons. Save the world again. Born to do this.
[You need to be calm.]
My eyes met his. I let the energies within me slosh around and level again. Needed the calm to keep me balanced. I could see it now. If I became too turbulent either way, one of the powers would try to take hold of the reins. The demonic side craved the violence. Yet, the divine side wanted to kill demons, too. The tide could rise, they just had to do it together. Balanced.
//Convoy is about to move. They’re taking you inside a warehouse. Currently… thirty hostiles, standby for updates.
“Thirty,” I repeated, even though my patron could hear the Blank too. A warehouse reminded me of the large hangar we had last fought in. I wondered how many of these large structures were dotted about the expansive plains of the Lowers, and what they could be harboring.
This one was due for a routine inspection, and I was more than happy to oblige.
[Any information on type and Level, the Rodney?]
//Mostly Five, a few higher. Demons are a mix, but mostly rabbit demons.
There was a more specific name for the types of demons, but it was one of the parts of the learning process that I had glazed over in blurred anger back in my starting days. They all bled the same… well, that wasn’t true. I had enough going on in my head to keep a catalogue of the subtype names for the animal-like demons. Rodney would know, but also knew enough to dumb it down for me.
“Alright, park her up over in bay B and we’ll get a team in to unload.”
Now stuck in a small box next to a high yield demonic explosive, in a large building filled with enemy demons, I came up with a second plan—an even better one that would have been useful to have about an hour ago. I could have just Hell Mortar’d the place from a distance and have the bombs do the difficult lifting. Oh well, maybe next time. Maybe I preferred a mission where I could get my hands dirty and mortal existence stepped on a little.
//Org has responded…
“Ah,” I said, ready for the rain on my parade. I could always teleport back home in a few seconds, but now that I was already here…
//Proceed with caution.
Unexpected. No time to think more about that, as the convoy stopped. There was a constant noise in the background—working machinery, perhaps—as well as the muffled sounds of voices.
“You ready, bud?” I raised an eyebrow at the croc in our wagon.
“Yeah, boss. We’ll do you proud.”
“Leave none alive.” With a smile, I gave a nod to Wight. “Partner?”
[Let us depart.]
He with drew his knife. I pooled some demonic energy into my leg and kicked the wagon doors open, leaping out.
The amber light of Hell made me wince a little after being cooped up in the dark wagon for so long. A wide doorway to our left let in the glow of the outdoors, illuminating the grays and dark browns of the rest of the building. The warehouse was large, with a raised ceiling, a second floor on the side ahead of us, while the space above rose to a metal-sheet roof. A few raised platforms of gray stone, blocked by metal railings and sporadically furnished with control panels, tables, or storage crates.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Just before us was a wide open track where bay A could take in a similar convoy, and with a brief judge of the space, I assumed there would be a bay C at most behind us.
//Sixty-three hostiles. Level Eight is up in the top room.
Probably the one in charge, I presumed, as all eyes turned toward me. Most of them were rabbit-demons, their large ears sticking up into the air as if to notify me there was a demon I hadn’t shot yet still present. There were some devils, and a couple other types that needed bullets more than they needed describing. As the other wagon doors burst open and my gang hopped out with weapons drawn, the warehouse turned into panic.
“Double-crossed!” One enemy yelled from the back.
Time to make smooth murder music. Revolver spun in my hand, then I flicked it toward a surprised demon to my right. Knee, heart, head. He dropped the sword he was trying to draw. Wight padded over and picked it up before flinging it up to Hoff, who was sitting atop the first wagon still.
[Earn your place, demon.]
I grinned and surged forward, rolling across the next bay as a walkway of demons opened fire with rifles. Chunks of stone burst up from the floor where I had stood as I backed up against the first ledge. Wight padded over, seemingly unphased by the potential danger.
[They have rifles, Eric.]
“Yeah, I saw.” I ducked my head in reflex as the corners of the hard stone chipped away from a shot. “You can see them?”
He looked up from where he was standing, shots zipping past him onto the floor beyond.
[I can.]
“Alright, aim me.” I pooled the demonic energy through my arm and into a tendril that held my revolver several inches from my hand. One eye twitching, I turned it to face over the edge without exposing any of my actual limbs.
The cooling burst of Wight’s power ran down my arm and through the tether into the gun. I felt him attempt to adjust the movement and allowed him to.
[There.]
A ball of crimson light lobbed out from my weapon, hissing through the air before colliding with my intended target. The flash of the explosion briefly illuminated the area before the shockwave and debris sprayed down across the platforms. With the hideous screech of metal, the walkway came off from where it was set and clattered down to the floor.
[It landed on two other demons. Very nice.]
//Two more ranged to your right, crocs are pinned.
I looked down the bay toward the hangar opening. A pair of my gang members were in a similar position to me, while a third lay in the middle of the pathway, a large hole cored through his head. Anger briefly flared up within me before I cooled it. Time and place for revenge.
Hoff and another of my allies came up beside us as a couple rabbit-demons hopped down to assail me in melee. The croc knocked one back into the wall with a shoulder-barge and then snapped their jaws on the opponent's head, crushing the demon's skull. Hoff was quick with the blade, jamming it up under the ribs of the next demon that dropped down and slashing it to the side to disembowel them.
“We need to get you guys some guns.” I grimaced. They were uncommon in the Lowers, which was great for me, but something I’d need to get used to if I got promoted to go to the Mids.
A handful of demons clambered from the other side of the convoy, scaling onto the roofs of the wagons.
[Watch out for the bombs, Eric.]
“I know.” I rolled my eyes. Despite inviting the possibility—no, the guarantee—that they’d go off seeing as I brought them here, I was still adamant that it wouldn’t happen.
A wave of demons dropped down from the ledge above us. The croc with us took a mallet to the head and stumbled away. Hoff blocked the swing of an axe and ducked the follow-up. I blew the hand off my assailant, sending his weapon clattering to the floor. Wight stabbed him in the leg, and then I rammed the revolver into his mouth, breaking teeth before blowing the back of his throat out.
I turned and focused my energy. Aimed for the rabbit that had Hoff on the back foot. Radiant energy, pure divinity. Encircled by demonic power. I released the payload with the click of the trigger, satisfying the itch. The bullet embedded into the back of the demon's head, before exploding, shattering half of his skull and assorted head meats across the dull stone wall.
Second one, learning the process quicker this time. Into the arm that was swinging the mallet toward my stunned croc. A burst of flesh and a sphere of his upper arm was torn from this reality, the bone the only thing left. His attack faltered and my gang member recovered, the pointed tip of his sword piercing straight through the throat of the attacker.
[You learned that remarkably quickly, Eric.]
I looked down at my patron as he paused from carving a face into the demon we felled to look up at me. “Well, when needs must.”
[They must what?]
“No. I mean, because-“
//Another wave of ten incoming.
I glared down the edge of the ledge. Four crocs were still pinned by the rifles. A handful of my gang laid dead on the floor. My responsibility. “Hoff, guard the wagons and make sure nobody tries to take them.”
“As you command it,” he said with a nod. “And… thank you.”
“You can thank me if you survive this.” I tipped my hat with a grin and then stepped into Wight’s clasped hands. I leaped up from the boost onto the top of the platform, right into the midst of the approaching demons.
The revolver spun and then I fanned it around, blowing holes into the enemy. Still calm. Demonic rifles aimed toward me, slightly out of my revolver's range. I really needed to get the range upgraded sometime.
Oh, but I could do that myself, couldn’t I? Even as I finished off the surrounding enemies with Wight coming up beside me to assist, new thoughts were in the process of painting my landscape.
I had all this power within me. Surely I could use it? When I used demonic energy, it eventually refilled, like Wight’s power. The divine energy should do the same—so if I emptied it to use one of my skills, it’d just come back after a short period.
To my brain enamored with calm combat, it seemed like a flawless idea. One without any consequence or worry.
As soon as the trigger was pulled, I realized my folly.