Darian flicked the bits of meat from his hands to the floor, the chunks landing with a wet thud. “Who are you?” he asked, wiping the warm blood from his lips.
The man before him was around his height and humanoid in shape. He sported a set of dark, leathery wings, and his red-skinned face seemed to flow and shift as black tattoos formed intricate patterns across his flesh.
“I am,” the man’s eyes flicked to Oliver’s body. “Azlar.”
Darian stepped forward, Azlar shuffling an equal distance away. He was clutching his ribs, and the blackened armor on his chest was caved in.
“Are you a demon?” Darian asked. He’d heard of their kind but never laid eyes on one.
Azlar nodded. “I am Azlar Almaris, demon prince of the eastern empire.” He attempted to stand proud, but a new wave of pain shrunk his posture.
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Blood Consumed: Oliver Swink
Temporary skill gained: [Limit Break]
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Quest completed: Failed Experiment
Objective: Kill Oliver Swink
* Reward: +100 class XP
* Reward: +50 Race XP
Bonus Objective: Consume his blood
* Reward: Unique skill permanently absorbed [Phase]
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Both Darian and Azlar’s eyes moved to the two floating screens.
“You’re a companion,” Darian stated, Azlar pulling his gaze away from Darian’s rewards.
“Indeed.” Azlar took another back step, his face a constant pained grimace. “And you are an Aspirant. Darian the vampire.”
“You seem to know a good deal about me.” Darian stepped forward. “How did you get in here? I should have heard you coming.” He tilted his head to the side. “Teleportation? It must be.”
“I have no quarrel with you,” Azlar said, slowly shuffling backwards.
“Funny,” Darian said with a flat smile and a nod at Oliver’s bloody corpse. “He said the same thing.”
***
Azlar cradled his broken ribs and cursed his rotten luck.
That grimy, insignificant bastard! I’d kill him if he weren’t already dead! Of all the places Oliver could have ended up, it just had to be here. Azlar didn’t know what his father’s plans were for the Aspirant of Blood, at least not entirely. But he knew he was “off limits”. Though with the way he was looking at Azlar, he doubted he could remain so for long.
The vampire shuffled forward, his pupils dilated and his mouth agape, blood still trickling from his chin. Half mad and half rabid, he flicked his wrist and a sphere of shadow appeared above his head. The swirling darkness folded away, revealing a giant bat. Its pale, hungry eyes latched onto Azlar, and he mumbled a curse.
“Tell me why you’re here.” More shadows appeared across the ground, massive wolves appearing from the writhing blackness. “I will not ask again.”
Azlar gritted his teeth. If he weren’t injured, he could squash the upstart Aspirant in an instant. But his passive healing and low-tier recovery magic wouldn’t see him at full strength for days. But he was Azlar Almaris, proud son of the demon God himself, and he would not be intimidated.
***
Darian listened to the demon’s hissing breath. Broken ribs, several if I had to guess. And probably a fractured sternum too. He sniffed, the scent of charred fur and sweat filling his nose. Maybe he fought Zander? The demon seems incredibly strong from what I can tell. Only someone around Zander’s level could have injured him. He waited for the demon to reply. With Oliver’s blood filling his belly, he had little need of another meal. And his true target was the freeing—or killing—of the Flame Aspirant. He’d already left his party behind in search of Oliver, and so future delays would need to be limited. If a fight could be avoided, he wouldn’t complain.
“You should know better than to threaten someone like me,” the demon said, doing his best to stand fully upright. “Even wounded, I am more than a match for you.” He grinned, the expression pained. “I am leaving. Do not attempt to stop me.”
Darian sent a mental command and his wolves fanned out, encircling Azlar. “If you wish to escape violence,” he said striding over and plucking his sword from the floor. “You will answer my questions.”
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The demon laughed.
“The only escape from violence is death.” Fire sparked to life in his open palms. “A reality you will soon realize.”
***
Yaz pushed against the dwarf’s chest, wrenching his blade free. Almeda was beside him, her magic tending to a gash in Jorg’s shoulder. The shifty necromancer and satyr scout were down the hall, dealing with a few stuntlings that tried running.
The little fairy buzzed down from above, her eyes latched onto one of the dwarves’ strange weapons.
“Never seen anything like it,” Jorg said, motioning to Almeda that he was fine.
Even Yaz had been shocked at the sudden explosion of noise the little metal rods produced, though he didn’t think much of them at first glance. He’d seen weapons before that were all flash with no substance. But whatever came hurtling from that burst of smoke was powerful enough to rip straight through the paladin’s enchanted armor. Even a crossbow bolt would have trouble with that.
Yaz spat. “A cowardly weapon for cowardly creatures.” He hefted Blood Bringer onto his shoulder, the familiar weight of the greatsword setting his raging heart at ease. It wasn’t time to unleash his battle lust.
That would come later.
“Where did our intrepid leader run off to?” the necromancer asked, his skeletal minions marching at his heels.
“He ran after an old foe,” Jorg replied.
“We must find him.” Almeda’s eyes shifted to the corpses at their feet. “Time is not on our side.”
“I’ll go nab him,” Yaz offered, setting down the hall before the others could reply. “See if he needs help finishing that swamp rat he scurried after.”
“There are steps coming down the hall,” Lucia called. “We must eliminate these guests before they bring others.”
“We will hold here, orc.” Jorg said from behind. “Be swift and be careful.”
Yaz laughed. Be careful of what?
***
Darian rolled to the side, flame erupting where he’d just been standing. His bat was still hovering above, waiting for an opportunity to strike. But all of his wolves were dead, burned to ash in an instant. He himself had narrowly avoided joining them.
The demon was slow, his movements sluggish and labored. But each time Darian closed the distance, a new wave of arcane fire pushed him back. If it was some other element, he would simply rush through it and deliver the finishing blow.
But it had to be fire, didn’t it? His body tensed as the heat pressed against his skin. Instinct told him to avoid the writhing tendrils of flame at all costs, and he was happy to oblige.
In other circumstances he would simply outlast the demon. With how desperately he was launching his attacks, he had to be running low on skills. And as he continued to shuffle backwards, his breathing was becoming more erratic. All Darian had to do was continue dodging and the fight would tip in his favor.
But he did not have the luxury of time.
The entire room seemed to buckle as a pillar of flame erupted beneath Darian’s feet. He managed to sidestep the attack, but the fire pushed all the way from the stone floor to the vaulted ceiling above. A few more attacks like that and the entire chamber might come down on us. And with each magical assault the danger of drawing unwanted attention grew. Zander was supposed to be offering a distraction, but that could only last so long.
Steeling his resolve, Darian shot three bolts of ice from his palm, hoping the shards would cover his advance.
They did not.
***
Yaz paused before the massive door, wondering what in the hells was going on in there.
Explosions resounded from within, pounding the floor so hard he wondered how the place was still one piece. Worse yet, he had no idea how they got past the chains before him. He gave them a tug, but they held firm, locking the door firmly shut. There was a hole above the door, near the top right corner where wall met ceiling, but even a skinny fellow like Darian couldn’t have fit through it. With a dissatisfied grunt, he realized there wasn’t a way through.
“Well,” he said, lowering his shoulder. “Guess I just need to make my own way.”
***
He continued to circle, darting in where he could, but the flames were still forming a hissing barrier that he couldn’t cross. Even his bat had been reduced to cinders trying to get close. And his long-range skills like [Shard] and [Flare] fizzled away before they could reach Azlar. Even his flaming spear couldn’t make it. Guess it’s time to try physical projectiles.
Using the blood pooled around Oliver’s body, Darian sent three crimson daggers Azlar’s way. As they spiraled through the air he charged forward, ducking under a fireball. With a bit of hesitancy, he let the next fireball run right into his chest.
I hope this works.
He activated his new skill [Phase], and the fire passed right through him. With a slight grin, he jumped over a wall of fire just as Azlar turned to intercept Darian’s blood daggers.
The demon managed to stop them with a sudden blast of blue flame, but now his side was fully exposed. Pushing his boots into the stone, Darian lunged forward, using [Dash Strike] to catapult him toward his target.
Azlar moved away, his speed far quicker than Darian anticipated.
But his blade was faster.
It slid down the demon’s body from shoulder to navel, splitting his cracked armor as the blade bit into his flesh. Dark blood gushed onto the floor, and Azlar stumbled back, blue fire erupting from his hands. It began to spiral and spread, forming a roaring tempest of flame.
“You bastard!” Azlar screamed, the tempest growing, swelling as Darian was forced back.
Damnit. Darian ran to the side, looking for another opening. But then the far door, and much of the wall with it, came tumbling down.
Yaz came rushing through with a battle cry, his sword raised over his head. And when Azlar turned to face him, Darian charged, certain his next attack would be the last.