“Please,” Kevin said, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey guys,” I called to Esmelda and Gastard, “I need to grab more diamonds, can you make sure he doesn’t move until I get back?”

Gastard was already picking his way across the perilously thin bridge, while Esmelda remained by Bojack’s desk, a fresh arrow strung in her bow. Her lips turned down in a dour expression. Though we had won, the kingdom was far from secure, and here we were with an open door in the former Dark Lord’s cage.

“He will not escape,” Gastard said. He’d wiped the blood from his face, though there were still traces of red around his eye, the healing potion seemed to have put him back in fighting shape.

I made my way back to the forge.

For as long as we’d kept Kevin in a box, I’d been thinking of him more as a timebomb than a person. The threat he posed was always at the back of my thoughts, influencing my decisions, and my mindset had been focused on what to do about him rather than what to do with him. With my background, the idea of indefinitely keeping someone in solitary confinement had always made me uneasy.

Prisons, however, existed for a reason. It might not be a perfect solution, but the safety of innocent people, and in this case, an entire world, justified taking away the freedom of people who refused to play nice. That wasn’t quite applicable to Kevin. He hadn’t been a criminal, he had been at the head of an evil empire.

Philosophy majors can write as many papers, and spend as many years in debate, as they like about the nature of evil. For my purposes, I was comfortable keeping things simple. You didn’t hurt or kill people for fun or profit. You didn’t put people in chains, except when it was necessary to protect others.

Kevin had been around for a long time, an almost inconceivable span, since being chosen by Mizu as one of Plana’s heroes. Throughout his reign, he’d overseen an empire that treated humans, lillits, and everyone else, as objects. He’d betrayed his mentors, and sided with an entity whose sole purpose was to transform this world into a mirror of Bedlam.

Some things were unforgivable, weren’t they? How many lillits had died for his whims? For a decade, he had treated them as slaves under the oversight of demons, for no purpose other than to maintain the operations of what amounted to a toy train-set. And that was only what I knew about. His history, the centuries he had spent solidifying his position as Dark Lord, were undoubtedly rife with examples of cartoon-level villainy.

Forgiveness, however, was not necessary. Kevin had never before been open to conversation, but he was the single best source of information relating to my class. The only source, aside from the tidbits the System had divulged. If he was willing to help me, we could work something out. Not freedom, but better living conditions.

There was a chest full of diamonds in the forge. I filled a pouch with the aquamarine coins, turned back to the entrance, and doubled over. My stomach was doing flips, and I barely got my visor open before throwing up on an anvil.

The nausea abated a moment later, but my body felt hot, and I was tingling all over. Immune to poison and disease, there weren’t many possible explanations for a sudden sickness. This had something to do with the taint of Bedlam. Killing one too many demons.

My armor felt tight and ill-fitted, but I ignored the discomfort and forced myself to stand up straight and hurry back to the cube. If what I had done was going to change me, there was nothing I could do about it now. The aftereffects of demon-slaying were variable. First my eyes, then the nubs on my head that were slowly growing into horns. Claws instead of nails, and my incisors had been looking pretty fangy lately.

It could have been worse, at least I hadn’t sprouted any feathers or grown fur all over my body. The mutations were thematic, related to the nature of the demons I killed, but they hadn’t gone overboard yet. I still looked human. It had never made me sick before, though.

By the time I reached the hall leading into Kevin’s cube, I was walking like someone in a whole-body cast. My limbs were stiff, not paralyzed, I just didn’t fit in my suit anymore. Esmelda gave me an alarmed look as I shambled down the passage toward her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, lowering her bow. Kevin hadn’t moved, and Gastard was standing outside of his cell with his sword out like an executioner preparing for the final swing.

“Not sure,” I said. “Taint, probably.” The nausea was back, though not to the point where I had to vomit. In no condition to cross a tight walk, I quickly unequipped my armor, converting each piece into a medallion and stowing them in my pack. My tunic and trousers were sticking to my body, drenched in sweat both from the battle and this sudden onset fever.

“You’re pale,” Esmelda said, her brows drawing down in concern.

“I’ll be fine.” Though my limbs were still tingling, it was easier to move now that I was free of the suit. Simply walking down the narrow path was much more difficult than it should have been, my head was spinning, but I managed to navigate it without slipping off to join Gremory on the floor below. The demon hadn’t moved since her fall, and Esmelda’s arrows were sticking out of her back like spines.

There was no room for us to stand side-by-side, so Gastard switched places with me, and I set about filling in the gap in Kevin’s cell with diamond blocks.

Kevin watched me with wide, desperate eyes.

“You're tainted,” he said, “like me.”

“Not like you,” I had to clear a couple of fractured blocks before placing new ones, harvesting the shards with a pick to make room for replacements. “I’ve been a good boy.”

“You’re not so different, you and I.”

I glanced up, had he just deepened his voice to give me the most hackneyed villain line in history? Kevin was smirking, ruined eye and all, he knew what he was doing.

“We have the same class,” I said, “that’s as far as it goes. If you want to talk, we can talk. But no one is going to forget what you’ve done.”

“You mean saving the world?” Kevin sat up straight, meeting me with a level gaze, a challenge. As if I had no right to judge him. “Towk would already have it all if not for me.”

“Seal him in,” Gastard said sharply, “there’s no reason to heed his malice or his lies.”

I placed the blocks, slowly, and deliberately, leaving only one out, a window for us to continue the conversation.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “Who’s Towk?”

“The One Who Knocks,” he rolled his good eye. “Durr. A player was working for him already when I got here, and the other Survivors didn’t know what to do about it. They were pansies. I’m the one who stopped him. I’m the one who griefed him. They thought they could play nice.”

Player? Please tell me Kevin didn’t think he was in an actual video game. Sure, the System had a lot of similarities to how a character would advance in an RPG, but this was not a simulation.

“So…you stopped the bad guy, then you took his place?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Kevin snarled, lunging forward on his hands and knees. “They were idiots, okay? We needed someone on the inside. They didn’t get it either.” He sat back on his heels, his face twisted in anger. “I did what I had to do.”

So many questions. Anything he said, I would have to take as a distortion, at best, if not an outright lie. With all the other witnesses long gone, he was going to try to paint a picture where he came out as a victim of circumstances rather than an active agent of malevolence. He might not even remember what had truly happened.

There were people who could lie to themselves about their actions, their motivations, to the point where their fabrications were the only reality they knew. Untangling the truth from his self-serving fiction might be next to impossible, but I still wanted to know.

“Why did you kill them, the other Survivors?”

“It’s not like they’re dead,” Kevin said, calming down. “They just left the game. Went on to the next stage. They probably work for the Hierarchy now.”

That wasn’t an answer.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“This isn’t a game,” I said. The last coin was in my hand, and I pressed it, edge down, onto the ledge of our little window, reminding him how easy it would be to shut him away forever. “We can respawn, but that doesn’t mean our lives don’t matter, or that what we do here doesn’t matter. This world is full of real people who don’t have our advantages. There’s no such thing as an NPC.”

“Of course there is,” he eyed the coin. “If you don’t have a System, you might as well be a bot.”

“I’m going to lock you in now.” I lifted the coin, preparing to set the block.

“Wait!” his eyes widened, “I can tell you how to get better!”

My hand froze. “Better how?”

“The spawns, the taint. I know how to fix it.” His twisted arm, his ruined eye. He certainly didn’t look like someone who knew how to deal with the toxicity of Bedlam.

“How?”

“For us, it’s runes. The other classes have their own crap. I can teach you. But you have to let me out.”

Of course, what else could he have wanted? Still, it was a strong play. The nausea was fading in and out, but I still felt sick. My body was very busily doing something that I didn’t think I would like. This wasn’t the right time to make deals, my head was swimming.

“We’ll talk,” I said, placing the last block and sealing him behind a wall of diamond. His mouth moved, the words too quiet to hear.

“You can’t be considering this,” Gastard said, finally sheathing his sword.

“You might have an FAQ,” I said, “but I don’t. There is a deeper level to my class that I have no access to right now. These runes, I need to learn how to use them. Kevin’s not exactly mentor material, but he’s something.”

We walked back to the hall to join Esmelda. Her hearing had always been exceptional, and I had no doubt she had been following the exchange. She didn’t look happy about it.

“You look terrible,” she said.

“Thanks, I feel terrible.” My joints ached, and the tingling had gotten worse. There were a thousand things we needed to do. “Let’s get back to the throne room. Are Zareth and Garron around?”

“Garron is unconscious, he was injured by a troll,” Esmelda said, walking beside me. “If you can brew any more healing potions, I’m sure he would benefit. Zareth was bitten, so there is infection to consider.”

“We need to handle all the mobs around Mount Doom,” I said, “and I’ve got to spawn-proof the cube before nightfall. The pens are going to be out of control.”

“You aren’t in a condition to deal with the pens,” Gastard said, a step behind us. “Why did you remove your armor?”

“It felt wrong,” I said. “Tight.”

Esmelda stopped, spun on her heel, and pressed her head against my chest. Reflexively, I put my arm around her. Somehow, she seemed even shorter than usual when she looked up at me.”

“I thought so,” she said, “you’ve gotten taller.”

“What?” As soon as I asked the question, Gastard stepped closer, put his hand against his forehead almost like a salute, and then brushed it over my head.

“She’s right,” he said, bemused. “You’ve grown at least an inch.”

Bojack had been eight feet tall. As much as I wouldn’t mind a little extra height, there were limits. Gastard was maybe six-three, and now that it had been pointed out, I felt like there wasn’t as much of a difference between us as there had been an hour ago.

“Well, at least I’m not getting hooves.”

Esmelda moved back, looking me up and down. She had shouldered her bow, and now she put her hands on hips.

“The horns,” she said, frowning. “The horns are becoming a problem.”

I touched my head. The nubs, my “gift” from Agares, had gotten sharper. They were also now close to three inches long. If I tried to equip my helm again, I didn’t think it would work. That was a serious practical issue. And if I grew significantly, it wouldn’t just be the helm.

I checked my notifications. I'd have missed the ding if there had been one, but the System had sent me a new message.

<<<>>>

Achievement: Tainted (2)

Congratulations, you are sufficiently infected with the essence of Discord that the harmonic dissonance of your presence will make it increasingly easy for entities from high-chaos planes to use you as a gateway to enter any world you happen to occupy. This is not the high score you are looking for.

Apply stabilizing elements to reduce the side effects of your corruption.

<<<>>>

“Yep,” I said, “this is a problem.”

Would the potential spawn radius expand, the rate of spawns increase, or both? It likely meant that stronger entities would appear more commonly. Instead of zombies, phantoms, and the occasional troll, I’d be dealing with Endermen and Hollows and chimeras every night with no demon around to manage them.

Further down the hall from where we were standing, a single torch rested in a sconce on the wall. Its gem glowed bright, imbued with Shadowbane. Was I imagining it, or did the light hurt my eyes? As we moved toward the great hall, I became very aware of the presence of enchanted torches.

It might have been psychosomatic, but I felt a slight reluctance as I passed under their light, as if something was telling me I didn’t belong there. The spells of the Atlan shamans had caused me discomfort, nothing compared to what they did to the demons, but would it be worse now?

What would happen if Shadowbane became as much a problem for me as for mobs?

Zareth, as well as several soldiers and servants, were in the hall when we arrived. They were carting dead mobs outside, and a group was levering one of the trolls onto a sled. My vizier gave a slight bow as I ascended the dais.

“It’s good to see you at your rightful place,” he said. I saw a bandage under the collar of his robe. The woman with dark, curly hair was hanging onto his arm, but she let go to offer me a curtsey. She was attractive, and I guessed somewhere in her forties.

“This is my wife, Dorea.”

“It is my honor,” she said, shifting slightly behind the vizier. Wary of me. A lot of Dargothians were like that, and it was no mystery why. Most of them still thought I was Kevin, and he hadn’t had a reputation for treating people well.

“I didn’t know you were married,” I said. She was certainly better looking than Zareth, who was bald and rail thin. I should have realized he had a family, it had just never come up, and I had never thought about his life apart from being an extremely useful functionary. Their relationship certainly explained why he had jumped in front of a zombie for her.

“Nice to meet you,” I smiled at the woman, and she relaxed a little. Then I refocused on Zareth. “I’m officially done with demons. Do you know where all the mobs are stationed? Without anyone controlling them, they’re going to start acting on their natures.”

Zareth’s mouth dropped open. “Done with demons? I don’t understand. My loyalty is to you, of course, but I don’t know why Orobas turned against you. What caused all this?”

I scratched my head, the horns were itching. Too many people were too far out of the loop. If Mount Doom was going to be our staging ground for ridding Plana of Bedlam’s influence, everyone needed to be on the same page.

“I know you know I’m not the same Dark Lord that’s ruled here since Dargoth’s founding. I made a deal with Bojack to replace him and help the demons bring their god into this world, but that’s over now. Let’s drop the whole “Dark” thing entirely. I shut off the cauldron, so the sky should clear. This is going to be a different kind of kingdom from now on.”

Zareth took the explanation stoically, though Dorea’s eyes grew whiter and whiter as I spoke. Even if my vizier had shared some secrets with her, this was no small announcement.

“The storm?” She said, “It will end?”

“Yes.” In all honesty, I wasn’t entirely sure how the effect worked, or how long it would last without the cauldron’s emissions. There was also a second cauldron in Golgoth, and Valefor wasn’t going to give it up without a struggle. We would cross that chasm when we came to it.

Dorea gave a small gasp, and Zareth sighed as if an invisible weight had fallen from his shoulders. They had lived their entire lives under the shade of a malevolent sky, in servitude to a man who thought of them as NPCs. Had Zareth ever seen a sunrise? Without the storm, Dargoth would become a completely different world.

Esmelda cleared her throat. “Not everyone will take the news as well as you two,” she said. “We need to know if there is anyone we can’t trust, anyone who will think they will have more to gain by siding with the demons when they come.”

“Betray the throne?” Zareth looked at the obsidian edifice with reverence in his gaze. “I suppose it is possible there are some among us unworthy of your trust, my lady, but I think it will be fewer than you imagine.”

“What about people who are still loyal to Kevin,” I asked. “Is there anyone who will see me as a usurper?”

The vizier frowned, resting his hand over his oiled goatee. “That is more difficult to say. In truth, when you took the throne, it felt as if you had always been there, even though I knew you were not the same man. I think most of those who reside in Mount Doom will feel the same, though wider Dargoth may feel differently.”

It was an effect of the Sheltered achievement. The bigger your house, the more people respected you. Did that count as mind control? Whether or not the effect was morally debatable, I wasn’t going to smash the throne to find out how people actually felt about me. I could worry about the ethical implications after we’d won the war.

Was Kevin right? Were we really not that different? Having a magic chair that made your subjects want to be your subjects wasn’t the same as putting people in chains, but there were certainly corollaries to be drawn. With power came temptation to abuse that power.

I shook my head. We were not the same, and I didn’t have time to waste thinking about it.

“Make sure Garron gets the care he needs,” I said. “When he wakes up, I’ll have a potion for him. I have about ten things to do before sunset, but I want to make a formal announcement at dawn and let everyone know what’s going on. Can you spread the word?”

“It would be my honor,” there was an excitement in Zareth’s eyes that I’d never seen before.

“Praise Gotte,” Gastard said, slapping my shoulder, “you’ll be a proper hero yet.” He looked at Zareth. “Before you start planning the parade, let us return to the discussion of beasts. Two trolls at the gate. What else is there to kill?”