Hatred, mused Lord Azanth, was akin to the scab that covered a wound over your heart. Leave it alone and slowly the intensity of the feeling fades. As the human philosophy puts it: time heals all wounds. The demon philosopher, on the other hand, would say that time inflicts all wounds. Picking at the wound to his heart, Lord Azanth never allowed the intensity of his hatred to fade. Indeed not. Daily, he contemplated on his fall and those responsible.

While his human companion listened to a tedious and ill-informed lecture about titans, Lord Azanth once more devoted his mental energy to resolving the question of which of the demons of his realm had committed the most shameless acts of betrayal. Some of the minor lords owed him only fealty and possessed their castles and followers in their own right. They would suffer for breaking their oaths and for their misjudgement in allowing a paladin to triumph on the Seventh Plane of Wickedness. But should these vassals abase themselves most pitifully, he might allow them to serve him once again.

Other members of the demon nobility had owed all their importance to the patronage of Lord Azanth and for them to have betrayed him was an irredeemable act. One by one, he conjured up their faces in his thoughts and seethed with renewed pain and fury for some time, until at last he could gather his thoughts again.

My dear companion, allow me to state a new insight of mine.

I’d rather you didn’t interrupt the lecture. We will be examined on this.

Even so. My discovery is this: impotent hatred is the most horrible of all emotions; one should hate nobody whom one cannot destroy. And with this observation as the motto that guides our plans for the day, can I urge you to transfer your attention from this fool to the far more important task of our reaching Level Seven and unlocking a new skill.

Hush.

It was difficult for the brittle and inflexible form of a prawn cocktail crisp to take a deep beath in the hope of calming a surge of rage. Having done his best, Lord Azanth addressed the youth once more. When you look back over your entire life, mortal, what three achievements do you believe will stand out to you?

I dunno… graduation? Buying a house for my parents? Becoming a father?

Foolish mortal. No. No. The three great achievements of your life, the defining moments, will be reaching levels Seven, Fifteen and Thirty-One and unlocking your skills. Currently, you are just a few hours of grinding away from a whole new skill. Nothing is more important. Certainly not this idiot talking about titans as if they can be measured, understood, and contained.

If I fail my exams and am forced to retake the year, or even drop out of college, being Level Seven won’t make up for the heartbreak of my parents…

I sense you are not persuaded.

Do you really measure your achievements by your skills? If I ever get to buy my parents a home, now that would be a massive achievement.

A trivial one. Barely worth a moment’s satisfaction.

Not a trivial one for me.

The youth said nothing more and Lord Azanth resigned himself to having to wait for the end of the lecture. When at last they were moving, though, the boy’s professor pushed through the students crowding at the exit to the lecture hall and accosted him.

‘Liam Nowak?’

‘Yes?’

‘You’re a friend of Kate Brannagan’s.’

‘Yes, I suppose I am.’

‘If you repeat anything about me that she has said to you, you will be sued! I have lawyers on this case.’ And with that the foolish human who believed he was wise in the ways of titans quickly moved beyond the range of Lord Azanth’s Telepathy.

What just happened? The youth felt shocked, as well he might. Even Lord Azanth found himself wanting to clench his teeth and fists at the aggressive tone of the academic. Lacking either teeth or fists, he quivered for a moment in outrage.

When guilt and fear are pushed aside, then anger helps restore one’s pride. That man is angry because a young woman has accused him of something that he feels might be damaging to his reputation.

Plagiarism?

Plying her with intoxicating drinks and chasing her to the entrance of her residence in the hope of seducing her.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Jesus.

You are wondering what action to take on behalf of your friend?

I am.

Level up. Become a mighty mage of irresistible power and destroy your enemies.

Did that work for you?

Up to a point.

The point you were transformed into a crisp.

You mock me, mortal. Yet I am right. If you were able to shatter this professor’s defences and melt him with your skills, he would not have dared accost you and attempt to intimidate you in silence.

‘Hi Liam, would you be interested in joining our group for some grinding?’ The human youth who had invited Liam into a group at the Garden of Roses had approached, with a female beside him.

‘I have to work in two hours.’

Did these comrades of yours not offer you a group when no one else would because of your lowly status? Is this not an opportunity to reward their consideration.

‘We could make it a short session,’ said the girl.

‘That suits me,’ the boy said, then he added, ‘I’m meeting a friend who is single-honours in warrior at the portal, so he can tank while we cast.’

‘All right, that sounds good. Thank you.’

Although Lord Azanth lacked the necessary body parts, he felt as though he could skip with pleasure at the prospect of finally being able to resume his progress towards Level Seven.

It had been a century or so since Lord Azanth had visited the undersea lair of Xecata. The overlord in question was a very minor demon on the First Plane of Wickedness who typically manifested in the form of an octopus. Very minor, but far too dangerous for the young humans. Nor did Lord Azanth desire an encounter with the aquatic ruler of a complex underwater cave system. The last time they had met was at a ball in which Lord Azanth had complained of the stench of rotting seaweed. Turning around, he had met the baleful, red eyes of the octopus-headed lord Xecata. No, it would not do to renew their acquaintance at this inopportune time.

The youthful humans used their college portal to arrive at a rocky beach beside the undersea caves that led to the palace of Xecata. Here, the hostile creatures were very manageable: giant crabs, sea kobolds, and sea eagles. The crabs and eagles came one at a time and while the kobolds occasionally fought in pairs, they were easy for the humans to deal with. All three mages had Freeze, so one kobold was kept in magical chains while the other was drawn away to be dealt with by their competent warrior.

One heartening feature of their battles was that the lack of a healing class proved to be no fetter to the pace of their activity. There was no ‘down time’ to use the parlance of the human players. Lord Azanth’s Fortify skill provided everyone with one extra health point, multiplied by the warriors six levels, this meant six extra hit points for him. Given that Thornskin had been applied to him from the wand – and aided by the bombardment of Magic Missiles from the mages – the warrior was killing his opponents before they inflicted more than six damage. At regular intervals Lord Azanth recast Fortify and although his mana was slowly draining faster than it recharged, he would be able to sustain the warrior on full hit points for at least the forty-five minutes of Thornskin that the wand provided.

Decades, centuries even, had passed since Lord Azanth had cared about the minutiae of small-scale combat and the acquisition of tiny amounts of EXP. To his surprise, he experienced a growing sense of pleasure in the efficient way in which the group dispatched all the nearby opponents. When viewed from the fullest extent of his desire to obtain revenge on powerful enemies, these battles on the beach were of negligeable importance. But checking on an EXP bar that moved distinctly closer to filling up Level 6 with every kill, Lord Azanth felt like the currents of fate were drawing him towards his goal. He was almost happy.

As the humans became familiar with their opponents, their conversation changed from terse commands and observations to more relaxed themes. The youth on whose chest the Lord Azanth rested said very little, until after a giant crab expired under the impact of his Magic Missile. Then he said, ‘Have any of you seen Kate recently?’

‘Not since last week,’ replied the girl.

‘Have you got her email?’ Liam asked.

‘I usually message her on Instagram.’

‘Oh, that’s a good idea. I’ll do that when we are back on our plane.’

The other boy’s attention shifted from their next pull – a sea kobold – to Liam. ‘Is something up?’

Silence, but for the sound of waves surging across shingle. Good. They should all be concentrating on the challenge of fighting as efficiently as possible. It seemed to Lord Azanth that he might reach Level 7 within the time that the humans planned to be on the beach. That was a tantalising prospect and as there was no existing lore on the class progression of a prawn cocktail crisp, he was excited too, to see what new skills became available for him to choose from.

‘Did you see DuFrey come up to me after the lecture?’ A pause. ‘Well he tried to threaten me. He did not want me repeating what Kate was saying about him.’

‘What is Kate saying about him?’ asked the girl.

‘I think DuFrey might have harassed her.’

‘That wouldn’t surprise me.’

The fighting ceased upon the death of their current opponent: another kobold.

Hurry, draw another creature into battle. That crab I sense to your left.

In a moment. I want to hear what Roisin has to say. It is more important.

Another five victories and I will be Level 7. Level 7. A new skill. Come on, while Thornskin is active on your warrior.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘The way he encourages students – girls – to go to the post-graduate seminars and the pub afterwards. And his manner. You can see the difference: he’ll be scornful towards men but try to be jovial around women. The look in his eyes when he laughs, it’s predatory.’

‘Well, he’s made a mistake trying to bully me. I’ll find out from Kate what happened and if she wants to take him on, I’ll back her all the way.’

Quite right. Let me recall though, the motto I have discovered: one should hate nobody whom one cannot destroy. That professor is what? Level Twenty-Five? You must catch up and overtake him.

This time Lord’s Azanth’s words seemed to have been effective, for Liam did indeed accelerate his efforts, drawing new opponents into battle even before the current combat was finished.

After fifteen minutes of constant fighting, the glorious chime that announced a new level had been achieved rang in Lord Azanth’s mind.

Level 7.