Morgan charged.
As she said, the battle’s result was a forgone conclusion. The only challenge that remained was to reach the ritual chamber while wasting as little time and mana as possible.
The [Daemon of Eyes] couldn’t hope to keep up with her attacks. A gout of flame blinded three of their eyes, a kick tore free a conjured wing, and a series of flaming punches seared the flesh of the Daemon’s body. While flying, unanchored blows such as her punches wouldn’t deal as much physical damage, but the flames seemed more than effective, turning swathes of the Daemon’s flesh into charred husks.
All the while, Morgan fended off mental attacks. The first mental assault had taken her by surprise, but so long as she was aware of the threat, she could resist the effects before they trapped her into a new nightmare prison. That wasn’t to say the Daemon had no other tricks.
About half the time, Morgan’s blows would miss. Not because she failed to strike one of Eurymedon’s limbs, but because the limb she struck turned out to be an illusion. It was annoying whenever it happened, but it didn’t make too big a difference.
After a few more exchanges, the duel continued to go as expected. Her opponent grew increasingly battered, only hanging on so far thanks to their unnatural constitution and Morgan’s inability to land a devastating blow without expending too much mana. Nevertheless, the Daemon seemed to only be a strike or two away from being incapacitated.
Morgan knew she held the advantage, but could the gap really be this wide?
No, she realized. I’m only beating them so easily becasuse they’re not trying to win. They’re stalling.
After another of her flaming punches landed, Eurymedon’s flesh again sizzled and the Daemon looked to be on the edge of collapse. They appeared only one or two more blows away from passing out, exactly as damaged as they’d been for the past minute.
They want me to believe them always on the verge of defeat so that I’ll conserve my mana and waste my time, Morgan thought with a snarl, angry that she had fallen for the Daemon’s tactic for so long.
She closed the distance and grabbed her opponent’s fleshy torso with one hand, anchoring the two together. She reeled back a fist, hoping to land a brutal strike that would rip straight through the Daemon and kill them instantly.
Then she felt the magic shift, and recognized her mistake.
She bailed on her strike at the last moment, but it was still too late. Eurymedon’s eyes flashed violet, and a clawed tongue burst out of one of their mouths, mere handsbreadths from Morgan’s face, and scored a shallow cut over one of her eyes before the [Omnimancer] could get away.
It was a small wound, but it left her shaken. She recognized the magic imbued in the Daemon’s attack. If Morgan had gone through with her strike, she would have killed Eurymedon, but Eurymedon would have killed her as well.
No, Eurymedon wouldn’t have just killed her. They’d tried to do something much worse.
Morgan raised a shaking hand and touched the new wound on her face. Just as she feared, when she pulled her hand away, there was no blood.
“[Soul Rend]?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m unsurprised that you recognize it.”
Morgan clutched her hands into firsts. “If you can use soul magic, why are you wasting your time serving someone else? You could be unstoppable! You could be a [Liege]!” She knew she was wasting valuable time seeking answers, but she needed to know.
Eurymedon bobbed her head in a queer nod. “I could stall you with a complete answer, but I respect you too much as an opponent. Just know this, Morgan Dragonsbane… Melpomene has given me more than I could hope to repay in even a thousand immortal lifetimes.
“And now, much to my shame, I must again rely on my [Liege]’s foresight.” The Daemon gestured with all their arms around them. For the first time, Morgan noticed that during their battle, the pair of them had drifted downward and were now within the confines of the volcano’s partially drained caldera. The cracked walls of the crater suddenly glowed in a ring around them, revealing the arcane runes hidden amongst the noise.
Morgan recognized the runes as belonging to a certain elemental spell. She charged at Eurymedon, but she knew she was already too late. A wall of rock and magma jutted up between them, and before she could fly around, more walls formed all around her until she was trapped within a three-dimensional maze.
“I know this is a bit out of order,” Eurymedon said, their multitudinous voices coming from everywhere at once, “but welcome to phase four of the final battle! The [Magma Labyrinth]!”
----------------------------------------
The ritual would be completed in a matter of minutes. Exactly how many, Melpomene couldn’t tell, but she could already feel a touch of divinity suffused within the air. The seven [Shards of Aolyn the Deathless] spun faster and faster around each other atop the room’s dais, and the azure light they emitted continued to grow in intensity, lighting the room like a blue sun.
Just to make sure the [Hero] was dead, Melpomene shot his corpse twice in the head. Brain matter splattered across the floor, but little else happened.
“So much for an epic final battle…” she muttered. She still wasn’t convinced she’d won just yet. Sol could still pull some third-act bullshit, disrupt the ritual, and strike her dead with a holy bolt of sunlight.
“Hey, Sol!” she shouted at the ceiling. “I knew from the beginning you wouldn’t let me win, but did you have to rob me of a proper fight? All I want is to go out with a bang. Is that too much to ask?” Unsurprisingly, she received no answer.
“Ugh!” she groaned, throwing her hands in the air. Without anything better to do, she paced the room, awaiting her inevitable death. “I barely even got to monologue!”
----------------------------------------
“This is ridiculous! I’m telling you that I died in a harrowing battle against the Demon King! I deserve to be in heaven!”
“Sorry sir, but that’s not the cause of death I have recorded here. Besides, the demons haven’t had kings in quite a few millennia. Could you perhaps be misremembering some of the details?”
“I am Arthur Kingsblood III! I was a [Tier V] [Champion of Sol] and [Hero] of the [Solarian Courts]! There must be some mistake.”
“I’m sorry but…” The angel standing before the gates of Sol’s heavenly domain trailed off, as if remembering something. “Wait,” he said, “did you say [Hero] of the [Solarian Courts]?”
Arthur puffed out his chest. “I did! Now that you’ve realized your blunder, open the gates and let me in!”
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
The angel scrunched his face in confusion. “But the [Solarian Courts] only get a [Hero] when someone tries to resurrect Aolyn the Deathless. Is it already time to kill the [Daemon Autarch] again? Man each century just goes by faster than the last…”
“Yes! That’s it! The [Daemon Autarch], that’s who I died fighting!”
“Umm, alright, but the book is never wrong,” the angel said, tapping a finger against the golden book on his podium, “but I think I could call my manager and get you an exception since you killed the [Daemon Autarch] and stopped a rival deity’s resurrection.”
“I what?”
“Killed the [Daemon Autarch] and halted the second coming of all good-aligned deities’ greatest nemesis, Aolyn the Deathless.” The angel narrowed his eyes. “You did stop the resurrection, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. I mean, I’m sure my lieutenant Brandon got it done.” Arthur didn’t think disembodied souls could sweat, but in that moment, he got awfully close.
The angel sighed. “What do you mean by that?”
----------------------------------------
Brandon never had the chance to earn a surname. He had been Arthur’s [Tactician] for years, but it was a thankless job. Every one of his successes were always chalked up to Arthur’s presence on the field. After all, what could tactics provide when their side already held the overwhelming power of a [Champion of Sol]?
Brandon was only allowed to join the [Hero]’s party due to tradition, but no one ever took him seriously. All those hours, days, and weeks spent prepping for every battle and planning out all the contingencies for their campaign… wasted! At least Morgan read his intelligence reports, but Arthur never even listened when he spoke! He still called their enemy the ‘Demon King’ for Sol’s sake!
Now that Arthur was dead though, Brandon knew he would be the one to take the blame. Morgan was just a mercenary, but she was still a [Tier V] [Omnimancer] and thus too valuable for the courts to throw under the bus.
But Brandon? He was only a [Tier IV] non-combat classholder. Never mind that the entire campaign would have fallen apart without his work! Those chivalry nuts in charge would take one look at his stats, say “low number bad,” and then execute him for letting their [Hero] die!
Sure, their precious [Hero] refused to bring along an emergency teleport ring like Brandon did since “running is for cowards!” but the courts would twist the truth and say that Brandon intentionally let the stubborn idiot die.
“My only chance is to get to Melpomene and end this business myself,” he muttered aloud as he skulked through the halls, rapier clutched tight in hand. His magical perception wasn’t as good as Morgan’s, but even a non-spellcaster like Brandon could sense the ungodly — or to be accurate, very godly — levels of magic flowing through the air.
He followed the flows of magic in reverse, until he was led to an ornate set of double doors. From the intensity of the magic he sensed coming from the other side, he knew the ritual — and thus Melpomene, the [Tier V] [Daemon Autarch] — was waiting on the other side.
Just as he was wondering how to enter, the doors flew open on their own. Standing there, backlit by the blue glow of a god, was Melpomene. She wore armor fashioned from metal shaped to resemble layers of sharp feathers, the helmet fashioned after a raven skull . Brandon at first thought the material might be darksteel, but then he noticed the black armor glittered with the light of galaxies — white, purple, blue, and pink. Could this be some new enchanted material?
In her hand, she wielded a darksteel flamberge, one of its wavy edges still faintly stained with blood. Looking behind her, Brandon sucked in a breath as he saw the burnt and dismembered remnants of Arthur’s corpse, its head completely blown apart.
The slits in her helmet revealed only a sliver of her blue-grey eyes, but her gaze pierced right through him. He must have imagined it, but he thought he saw a smile in her eyes, as if she were happy to see him.
“You already know why I’m here,” he realized, dumbstruck.
She nodded. “I do.” She flicked her blade, and a remnants of Arthur’s blood splattered across Brandon’s face. He felt his expression twist in fear, and the smile in her eyes turned cruel. “But I want to hear you say it.”
----------------------------------------
Melpomene flicked out her sword, ready to duel the [Tactician] that came to kill her. Sure, Brandon’s class wasn’t combat focused, but that didn’t mean she could relax. He surely had some brilliant tactic up his sleeve. Arthur may have been an idiot, but there was no way his [Tactician] would be—
“I surrender!” Brandon yelled, falling to the floor in supplication.
Melpomene blinked. “What?”
“The [Solarian Courts] will kill me no matter what happens!” he shouted, offering up his rapier that lay flat in his palms the way a [Vassal] would for their [Liege]. “I let their [Hero] die! More like I couldn’t stop him from killing himself, but they won’t see it that way. Please, I offer you my soul. Just let me live!”
“Are all Solarians such cowards?” Melpomene wondered aloud.
“Yes, I am a coward,” Brandon admitted immediately. “Trust that I am frightened of falling to a Solarian hell. To avoid that fate, I will gladly die for you a thousand times.”
Melpomene winced beneath her helmet, but then an idea struck her. “I understand now. This is a trap! There must be some trigger on your soul, or you must have invented some new type of magical item. If I were to tether your soul to mine, you would immediately do something to destroy my soul from the inside!”
Brandon recoiled at the accusation, rapier dropping to the floor as his eyes filled with fear. “N-No! I would never!”
“Despair, mortal! For I, Melpomene, fifty-fourth [Daemon Autarch] of the [Despoiled Legion] have discovered your ingenious ploy! Your schemes have failed! Now, prepare to face me in… in… Why are you crying?”
“I’m going to die!” the tall, blond haired, blue eyed, sharp jawed and muscular man wailed between sobs. “I studied and planned and worked so hard just to die and go to hell, all because Arthur wouldn’t listen to me!”
Suddenly, rage replaced the despair on the man’s face. He stood up and locked his eyes on the corpse of the [Hero] that he once served. He charged at the corpse, and Melpomene stepped out of his way.
Brandon got to the corpse and started yelling, every one of his words punctuated with a stomp onto Arthur’s burnt corpse.“This! Is! All! Your! Fault!”
Melpomene watched in distaste. With each boot strike, the corpse made a nauseating sound that was somehow both wet and crunchy.
“Um… Brandon?” Melpomene began. The [Tactician] landed one last stomp with a squelch before turning to listen. “Tell you what. If you go down the hall, take a left, and then the second right, you’ll come across some stairs. Take them all the way down until you’re in the dungeon. You’ll know you’re there when you see a Daemon wearing nothing but whips and leather. Ask him to hold you there until Eurymedon can check your soul for traps.
“If you come up clean, then I’m sure they’ll accept you as a [Vassal]. We do have a rich history of accepting turncoats after all, even though we’re usually the ones that have to go out and tempt them… but that’s besides the point. Does that sound like a plan to you?”
Breathless from his exertion, Brandon leaned up against the opposite wall, but he looked up at her with hopeful eyes. “You mean you won’t kill me? I don’t have to go to hell?”
Melpomene took off her helmet and gave him her best placating smile. “Of course not! Without a god, our side doesn't even know what happens when we die. Besides, if there were a Daemonic hell, you'd need to do a lot of Evil™ before you earn a place there! We wouldn't hand out spots willy-nilly like that silly god of yours… or rather, that former god of yours.”
Brandon smiled, tears in eyes. One hand still supporting his weight against the wall, he drew himself up as tall as he could. “Thank you, Melpomene! I swear, I’ll be the best traitor you could have ever wished fo—“
BOOM!
The wall behind him exploded, sending chunks of rock into the back of his head, bursting his skull like an overripe grape and killing him instantly.
“[DAEMON AUTARCH] MELPOMENE!” a woman’s deep voice yelled in through the new crack in the wall.
BOOM!
The wall exploded further, expanding the crack so that it was large enough for the woman to walk through. She stepped into the room, charred six-colored robe billowing about her heroically, witch’s hat sitting firmly on her head.
Morgan Dragonsbane had muscles corded like iron and skin tough as stone. Her eyes were flames, but she moved with the grace of water. A sourceless wind whipped against her short black hair, and the ground pulled up behind her every step, as if attached to her by invisible roots.
Blood flowed freely down her back from a trio of gouges inflicted by a wyvern’s claws, but her personal wind blew it about behind her, making it appear as if she had wings of blood. Across one flaming eye, she bore a newer wound, a deep cut that glowed with the telltale violet of a certain Daemon’s magic.
Morgan waved her arms, and around her formed the armaments of the six elements, a sleek creation of runic elemental plates all joined by living chains of water and burning wood. In one hand formed a blade of stone, and in the other a blade of air. A wicked bramble crown swirled into existence and rested on the brim of her witch’s hat, every thorn burning with one of the colors of the six classical elements.
Her [Planar Avatar] spell complete, Morgan pointed her stone blade between Melpomene’s eyes. With a voice that thrummed with the power of all creation, she spoke.
“I’VE COME TO KILL YOUR GOD!”