Gunpowder would have been nice. Without creepers to drop it, however, I didn't have any ready means of manufacturing explosives. TNT was a Minecraft staple, as well as fireworks, which you could use to fly with an elytra, which was a game item that functioned as a jet pack. The real life manufacturing method for gunpowder was beyond me. It required saltpeter, charcoal, and probably some other stuff I didn't remember. It wasn't like I had prepped myself on how to recreate modern technologies before dying. I wasn't one-hundred percent clear on what saltpeter was, either. You made it from manure, maybe, or bat guano. Something to do with nitrates. In old school Dungeons and Dragons, a pinch of guano was the material component of the Fireball spell, and that had always stuck with me as a funny juxtaposition. In my head, guano was related to explosives.

Still, I wouldn't have wished creepers on myself for all the gunpowder in the world. They could blow through stone structures as easily as wooden ones, so if they had been spawning regularly, I don't know how I would have made it this far. In the absence of explosives, preparing to defend the way station from an army of soldiers and monsters required some creative applications of the resources I had at my disposal.

The Dargothian force, along with their lillit captives, seemed to stretch on forever along Redroad. In reality, the column was probably around a mile long, but that still seemed like a lot. The night was clear, and the light of the moon and the stars and the torches scattered along the column gave me a rough idea of its composition. A group of soldiers led from the front, less than a hundred. They all wore armor, perhaps mass produced by the Dark Lord himself, but they came in on foot. That many suits of plate mail would have been a rare sight on a regular medieval battlefield, but if I was Kevin, I would have had a redstone factory pumping out enough iron to supply every soldier in my kingdom with a complete set.

A pair of hulking shapes stood out among the soldiers, trolls, but the zombies were further back. From what I could see, there were more lillits than soldiers and monsters put together. Little folk made up the majority of the column, with squads of soldiers among them, driven from behind by a monster regiment. The demon was too far away for me to make out what he looked like, but I assumed he was the one riding what I hoped was not a dragon. It had wings like a bat, and it was bigger than a horse. My mind immediately jumped to the wyverns the Nazgul rode in Lord of the Rings. He had surrounded himself with shamblers and a few more trolls, as well as another beast I didn't recognize. It had three heads, whatever it was, and was even bigger than the wyvern.

I was watching the enemy approach from an arrow slit cubby in the main hall. Gastard was upstairs, monitoring the roof. The army stopped well ahead of my overhang, which was a sensible move. My addition to the architecture of the way station made it obvious that the tower was no longer under friendly control.

The wyvern rose into the air with the demon on its back, flying over the lillits, and coming to rest just behind the advance group of human soldiers. A moment later, the trolls lumbered forward. They weren't as big as the one Gastard and I had killed the night before, but they were still walking battering rams. They'd break down the doors for sure, but I'd made some modifications to the grand hall. Its entrance now included a short corridor with a custom ceiling. The exit, as well as the path down to the lower levels of the way station, were walled off, and the only way up was through a narrow alley I'd built along the stair that connected to the silo of sand above the entrance.

I got away from the window. Torches illuminated my alley, though the main hall was now dark, and I didn't want to be spotted peeping. Listening to the trolls hammer the double doors, I took a moment to rest my eyes. The day had been a nonstop rush to get my preparations in order, so I'd been awake for almost forty-eight hours, and it was taking a toll. The wooden beam that kept the entrance shut rested in iron brackets, and they held against the first few body slams. But before long, I was watching the trolls come thundering into the hall.

They hooted and beat their chests, looking for defenders to smash, and finding none, circled slowly around, sniffing the air. My alley included gaps for me to keep an eye on the hall, but I was above them, and didn't do anything to garner their attention. A quick look back outside warned me that the soldiers were hustling in. They were wary of the overhang, but when a demon ordered you to advance, you did.

The aychar was still sitting astride his wyvern. His head was covered in fur, and he was wearing a darker set of armor than the soldiers. It looked like leather. His eyes, large and faintly luminous, settled on the window I was using to spy out of, and I ducked to one side. He'd seem me, or at least my shadow, but it wasn't like he didn't know someone was in here.

The enemy charged in, and finding no resistance, spread out around the hall. When I was confident that most of the advance group was inside, I stepped on the pressure plate beside the sand silo and headed for the stairs. My Artisan skill wasn't high enough to craft iron hinges, or so my System had informed me when I removed them from the back of the wall that opened onto Kevin's tool closet. But I could still use them.

The ceiling of the little corridor I'd made swung down, trapping those inside behind a stone barrier. The sand poured down, filling the rest of the entrance, and slipping out onto the ramp as well. I took the stairs two at a time, jogging up to Kevin's private rooms, and shut his mechanical door behind me before taking the ladder to the roof.

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Gastard was already there. He had the Shadowbane torch, and the roof was further illuminated by the glowing gems I'd stolen from Kevin's rooms before sealing them off. It was enough light to prevent unwanted spawns, though phantoms were still free to appear in the sky. Celaeno had said she wouldn't help me, but there were a couple dozen harpies circling the tower, and they were gleefully mobbing any phantom unfortunate enough to materialize in the area. As I climbed onto the roof, a bit of monster gore splattered on the stone nearby, and I looked up to see black winged shapes dragging one of the mantas down onto the ramparts so they could better rip it apart.

"Is it time?" Gastard asked, apparently unphased by the violent sideshow.

"Not yet," I said. "Let's see what he does next."

The demon could fly up to the top of the tower whenever it wanted, but he remained motionless. There were holes in the outcrop that allowed us to watch the ramp. The only other addition I'd made was the giant vat of boiling water. It was a wooden box built around a furnace. Furnaces could hold nine coins worth of material in both ovens. That much coal burned out in about an hour. Fortunately, coal combined into coal blocks, and nine of those were enough to keep the oven going all day, which it had been. It had taken a while for the first batch of giant ice cubes to melt, but the second batch had gone a lot faster. On the underside of the vat, beneath the overhang, was a wooden door rigged to open with a button.

Water did not leak out through the door. It should have, but it didn't, another quirk of crafted building materials. The demon sent in a squad of soldiers to deal with the sand. When I pressed the button, the result was not pleasant. Human screams were worse than the phantoms. There were about twenty men on the ramp when the scalding water poured down. It didn't hit all of them, or even most of them, but it was certainly discouraging. I pressed the button again to stem the flow and preserve the tank for a second drop. The men were pulling back from the sand, and it didn't look like there would be a need for a second dose.

This turn of events sufficiently bothered the demon for him to take direct action. The wyvern spread its wings, and with a few powerful beats, rose. I jogged back to the center of the roof to stand next to Gastard.

"He's coming," I said, grabbing a shield and taking out Kevin's sword. I didn't know whether it had a Shadowbane enchantment or not, but whatever enhancements the Dark Lord put on his own weapons, they were bound to be better than what I could manage. The wyvern rose over the ramparts and the harpies scattered. Phantoms were one thing, but against a monster like this, they would be prey instead of predator.

Its broad head sat on the end of a stubby neck, more like a shark than a raptor or a reptile. Its beady eyes settled on me, and its mouth opened to reveal dense rows of triangular teeth as it emitted a low hiss. Scaly skin, wings instead of arms, definitely a wyvern. It alighted atop my vat, allowing the demon to look down on us from a dramatic height.

"Who are you?" The demon said, its soft voice carrying across the roof. The harpies had gone silent, and I could no longer hear the soldiers from below.

"Lawlimi," I said. It was an old gamer tag. I'd been really into anagrams when I was younger. "This is my tower."

The demon narrowed its eyes. "You are not of this world, are you?"

They knew about isekais. That checked out, considering their Dark Lord was one of them.

"Nope. I woke up on the edge of this desert, found a friend, and decided this would make a good starter base for me. You're welcome to take your army around. If you want to come through, you'll have to pay a toll."

"You are young, then. Newborn." The demon's face was catlike, as were its eyes. From this distance, I could see that he had whiskers. "Let me be the first to enlighten you as to the order of this word. The Dark Lord rules all, and he raised this tower out of the sands. By assaulting it, you have insulted the greatest power in this little world."

"I don't know anything about that," I said. "But I've claimed this place, and you're not going to take it from me. Who are you, anyway?" We were definitely going to fight this demon, but it couldn't hurt to do some factfinding first. The lies were a way of distancing myself from the lillits. It was unlikely that he would believe my appearance and their capture were unrelated, but it couldn't hurt to try. The last thing I needed was for the demon to tell me he was going to kill hostages until I surrendered.

"I am Beleth, sworn servant of the Dark Lord, and thirteenth harbinger of The One Who Knocks. What of the man who stands beside you? Is he a newcomer as well?"

My companion was happy to answer for himself. He had set the torch down between us to bring out his bow, but he hadn't nocked an arrow yet. "I am Gastard, demon. A knight of the realm, and your sworn enemy."

Beleth licked his lips. "A mortal, then." He spared Gastard a glance and then seemed to dismiss him entirely. "I will extend you an offer, Lawlimi. Abandon this tower, and return with me to Dargoth to kneel at the foot of the Throne of Shadows. The Dark Lord may choose to take you into his service. If you refuse, your time in this plane will be brief, and you will know only suffering."

"Does he have other people like me working for him?"

Gastard was done with this conversation. While the demon was talking, he had casually pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back. Now he pulled back the string of his bow and fired. The missile was right on target, with a twang, it lanced through the air, and would have hit Beleth in the face. The demon twisted one hand into a sign, and the arrow veered off course, lost to the night.

He continued as if Gastard had done nothing. "You have no right to question me," he said. "I will have your answer now."

So arrows were out. My hand was shaky as I bend down to retrieve the torch. This had all been a terrible idea from the start, but we were here now, and there was no going back. Strangely, I felt calm. My heart was beating fast, but my head was clear.

"No," I said. "My answer is no."

"Very well." With no prompting from Beleth, the wyvern spread its wings. Its legs bunched beneath it, and it launched itself forward to attack .