Vortena

by Neven Iliev

  This was only the second time that Boxxy had expressed genuine gratitude towards another being, but the recipient didn’t exactly seem thrilled about it. In fact, the Mimic couldn’t help but notice that the bizarre entity’s attitude had thus far been much less enthusiastic than their first meeting. Shouldn’t Malfagar be happier, considering that his divine will had been carried out?

  “Are you disappointed that I won?”

  “A little, yes, but it’s nothing personal. You fought, struggled, and survived, just as I predicted you would. The odds were very much in your favour even without the gnome, but her presence made this outcome the overwhelmingly likely one. I was merely hoping to see something unexpected, but I suppose you can’t surprise me all the time.”

  Boxxy had to admit, the god had a point. The Mimic was tricky, resilient, and possessed a good set of instincts, so it would have figured out the lich’s weakness eventually. It could have found her much sooner too, if Fizzy hadn’t slowed it down. Though she had helped to make the first bout something of an easy win, in the end the tiny Paladin’s presence had been little more than a convenience at best, or a distraction at worst.

  “If you knew I would succeed, then why send me at all?”

  “Because, my newly-chosen Hero, a prediction is different to a prophecy. Even if the chance of failure is slim, it is nonetheless there. You would do well to remember that. No matter how good I am at reading between the lines, that little thing called free will remains an enigma wrapped in a mystery, shrouded by unknowable variables. Even to someone like me.”

  “What’s an enigma? Is it tasty?”

  “Hah! Hahahaha!”

  The God of Chance let out a hearty laugh that seemed to cheer him up a bit.

  “Sorry about that,” he said with a mosquito on his rainbow. “I almost forgot who I was talking to. You probably don’t care about the infinite realms of probability, do you?”

  “No, not really.”

  Boxxy was only curious as to why Kole was disappointed that it had survived. Even if its mental faculties had been restored to what they had been prior to its capture, it was still a colossal simpleton. A simple ‘because it was boring’ would have sufficed as an answer to its query.

  “That’s fine, I just have a habit of rambling on sometimes. Ignoring me is really for the best.”

  “Okay. But can I try casting a Spell? I wanna see if it still works right.”

  “Sure, go right ahead.”

  The child-shaped monster held out its hand and chanted its most basic Spell.

  “Shadowbolt!”

  A mass of hissing darkness appeared, flying into the distance before fizzling out of existence, just as it should have. Boxxy’s face lit up with a bright, slack-jawed smile sweet enough to give someone cavities. It giggled and hopped in its seat, clearly excited.

  “Say, Boxxy,” Tim interrupted its little celebration, “could you cast that again?”

  The request was a little odd, but it was no big deal, so the Mimic gladly complied, firing another Shadowbolt into the infinite white void. But rather than flying off into the distance, it swerved around as though it were a living thing and flew straight at Jack. It froze in the air directly in front of him, as if time had stopped for the volatile lump of eldritch energy. It was a strange thing for Boxxy to see, but it served to remind the animate chest that Randy was indeed a god, and as such had powers that mere mortals could not fathom. Though that did not exactly explain why the deity was so interested in the frozen projectile.

  “Huh. Well, what do you know, it really is like that after all,” he muttered.

  “What is?” Boxxy asked.

  “I always thought your Shadowbolts were a bit weird, but I wasn’t sure why until just now.”

  “Weird how?”

  “I mean, look at it!” Dana waved her guitar legs excitedly. “I wasn’t able to tell just from the remote viewing since it spins around so fast as it flies, but the Spell’s payload is shaped like a cube! A cube!”

  “So?” asked the Mimic, unable to grasp the significance.

  “So? So why is it in that shape specifically? Shouldn’t it be a sphere?”

  “Dunno,” Boxxy shrugged. “I just casted it like normal.”

  “Wait, don’t tell me – when you imagine gathering a mass of shadow and throwing it at people, what sort of mental image do you use?”

  “A chest.”

  “… A chest? Why a chest?”

  “Because it needs to be a perfectly balanced shape. And square chests are perfect.”

  Brandon had realised almost immediately how idiotic the question was, considering who he was asking, but Boxxy’s answer wasn’t quite what he’d expected.

  “Hah. A chest. Hahaha! I see, I see – so it was that after all!”

  Once again – much like the time it had sacrificed a succubus as a ‘pure maiden’ – the Mimic’s unorthodox perceptions and preconceptions had slightly bent this world’s rules.

  “Is the shape bad?” it asked, concerned.

  “No, not bad. It doesn’t actually have any negative impact on the Spell, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

  “Oh. But it’s still strange?”

  “Quite so. You sometimes see magic users that can twist the shape of their magic like this, but they usually need to have a firm and intimate understanding of what magic is and how to use it. This is the first time I’ve seen someone so… inexperienced alter a basic Spell like that, so it caught me off guard. Hah! Do I know how to pick a Hero or what!”

  “If you say so,” Boxxy shrugged again.

  “Anyway, I should probably send you back now.”

  “… What should I do from now on?”

  “Hm?” Ted raised a shoe. “Why are you asking me?”

  “Aren’t you my boss now?”

  “Why would I be?”

  “That’s how this thing works, right? The Hero serves the god?”

  “Generally speaking yes, but I’m not like that. If I tell you to go and do something, then I know where you’re going, what you’ll be doing, and worst of all – how it will end. That takes almost all of the fun out of this thing. All I expect from you is that you be yourself and do what you please.”

  Ironically enough, the God of Chaos’s personal interference in a matter took notions like chance, luck, and coincidence completely off the table, or at the very least stacked the odds overwhelmingly towards a specific outcome. It was like knowing the ending of a book after opening the first page. Anyone would have been bored with that sort of setup, but especially in Charlie’s case.

  “Then what about the lich?” Boxxy asked.

  “What about her?”

  “Didn’t you have any intention for her?”

  “Nothing in particular. The whole reason I brought you two back together was because I was curious to see how you would handle her, and that hasn’t changed. So by all means, do with her as you please. The same goes for that little Champion of mine, by the way.”

  “What? You won’t mind if I kill your servant?”

  “Not at all. I don’t particularly care if she survives since both her life and death are bound to be entertaining in their own ways. That said, however, you may want to let her out of that pocket dimension of yours before she suffocates.”

  “Oh, right. Okay.”

  “Alright then, I’ll be sending you back now. I am eager to see what exciting things will come from that free will of yours!”

  *Snap*

  The monster disappeared from the white room, back to the physical realm.

  Now that there was no one around to perceive him, the God of Chaos was finally able to stabilize his form. He stood at the fake table for a while longer, quietly staring at the cubic Shadowbolt.

  “A chest, huh?” he mumbled to himself. “Shadowbolt.”

  His own projectile of solid darkness materialised above him, hanging frozen in time just like the Mimic’s. It was huge – gigantic, even. So big it must have been over
forty metres wide. And, oddly enough, it had assumed the same six-sided shape as Boxxy’s.

  “… Really can’t tell if it’s a die or not without the markings, huh?”

  Mumbling to nobody in particular, he dispersed the magic around him with a small smile. Coincidences like that were always enjoyable, no matter how small. Sighing happily, he turned his divine attention back to the brewing war. His taking a personal interest was only a matter of course considering its trigger had been a byproduct of his and his new Hero’s actions. Consequently, he was very eager to see the results of that particular chain of events.

  A number of graphs, charts, and maps, all forged from solid green light, appeared around him as he resumed his work. Millions upon millions of variables flickered, waxed, and waned as he analysed all the factors involved in the upcoming conflict. He would use this incredibly complex model, one that nobody but himself could comprehend, to determine the most and least likely outcomes. And then, once he was finished, he would root for the underdogs no matter who they were, just as he’d always done.

  However, that wasn’t why he had brought the thing from his memory. It was because he had wanted to introduce a new factor into his simulation model, a rogue variable by the name of Boxxy T. Morningwood. He created a tiny illusory replica of the monster, containing all the data that he had on it – from its Status and physical capabilities to its highly erratic thought processes and behavioural patterns.

  He ‘placed’ it on the map of the continent, watching with a wide grin as all his hard work and calculations proved to have been for naught.

  Part Six

  Boxxy returned safe and sound to its body, still in the tower’s basement. It quickly opened its Storage and spat Fizzy out. The gnome was alive, but she hadn’t regained consciousness just yet.

  Simply leaving her like this was dangerous, however, as she could die from the Blight, so the Mimic also took out a healing potion and fed it to her. Her green eyes shot open as she gasped for air in the next instant.

  “Wha–? Who?!”

  She looked around in a panic but calmed after realising that the Mimic must have beaten the lich. Either that or it had run away, but at least it seemed that neither of them was in any immediate danger.

  “D-did you win?”

  “Yes.”

  Of course you did, she thought. As if some whorish corpse would be able to stop that thing.

  “S-So the Quest is done?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, wh-what happens now?”

  “I have to call Carl.”

  Fizzy had no idea who Carl was, but she had something far more important to worry about: her personal safety. A goal that required she serve this monster to the fullest of her abilities, lest it finally judge her too bothersome to keep alive.

  “Oh, okay. Then what do I n-n-n-need to do?”

  “You just sit there and be quiet.”

  “Yes, Boxxy! Whatever you say, Boxxy!”

  1-800-7355-9687-7685

  The Mimic mind-dialled Demons ‘R’ Us. It had tried to do so several times over the past few weeks, but to no avail. That particular ability was something that it had gained as a side effect of Summon Familiar, so it naturally had lost it along with the Skill. And now that it had access to it once more, its attempt to mentally contact an extra-dimensional being was finally successful.

  *Click*

  “We’re sorry, the number you are trying to reach is currently busy. Please try again later.”

  *Boop-boop-boop-boop-boop*

  Unfortunately, the response was not quite what it had been expecting. Rather than Carl’s raspy voice, what greeted it had been a strangely monotonous female-sounding one, followed by an unfamiliar beeping tone. That was odd, to say the least. Boxxy reattempted the connection ‘later’ – which it took to understand as ‘immediately afterwards’ – but someone else had beaten it to the punch.

  *Ring-ring*

  *Click*

  “Hello?”

  “Boxxyyyyy!” Carl sounded excited.

  Apparently, the line had been busy because the devil and the Mimic had been trying to contact each other at the exact same time.

  “That was one crazy battle just now! The look on that girl’s face when you swallowed her phylactery was fucking priceless!”

  “… You saw that?”

  “Well yeah, how could I not?”

  “How, though?”

  The Mimic had been under the impression that demons were unable to peer into the physical realm from the Beyond. So how had Carl supposedly ‘seen’ it fight the lich?

  “… You mean you didn’t know? About the broadcasts, I mean?”

  “Are broadcasts tasty?”

  “Okay, guess you didn’t. Uhm, wow, okay. How should I– Hey, watch it, chucklefuck!” Carl yelled suddenly. “I don’t care, that’s hardly a reason to mess up my office! Now shut up and let me finish! … Or else I’m gonna blacklist your sorry ass so hard you won’t get a gig in the next five hundred years! … Yeah, that’s what I thought. Damn mutt.”

  “Carl? Is something going on over there?”

  “No, no, nothing at all. Just had an uppity cerberus to deal with. Anywho, I’m calling about your contracts. I was told they were cancelled against your will, due to a forced Job Removal. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do you wish to restore the previously voided contracts?”

  “… I have a choice?”

  “Well, yeah. Your familiars were unbound against your will, but that doesn’t mean you can’t hire new ones if you want.”

  This was a possibility Boxxy hadn’t considered, but it certainly sounded tempting. Between its first-hand experience working with Snack and Arms and its mid-Level Demonology Skill, it now had a much deeper understanding of what the various demons were capable of. Maybe, the Mimic figured, it ought to ‘hire’ better familiars?

  “I’ll just take Snack and Arms back.”

  In the end, however, it chose to stick with what it knew over taking a risk with unknown elements. Despite their flaws, the succubus/fiend pair were quite excellent at what they did.

  “Super – just needed the confirmation. Gimme a second here.”

  *Tak tak takatakatakatak tak tak*

  “There, done. Your familiars are all set up and ready for you. Feel free to summon them at any time.”

  “That was fast.”

  “Well, I sorta got everything ready in advance. No reason to keep the big boss’s Hero waiting, you know?”

  “I see. Thanks, Carl.”

  Boxxy had almost forgotten how nice it felt to work with an actual professional, as opposed to a certain pink-haired gnome who still required basic survival lessons.

  “Hey, no problem buddy. Is there anything else you need?”

  “No.”

  “Understood. I’ll be here if you need me. Goodbye.”

  “Bye.”

  *Click*

  Boxxy promptly activated the Summon Familiar Skill, startling Fizzy. From her perspective, she’d just seen a wooden treasure chest sit perfectly still for a minute or two before concentric circles of ever-shifting demonic runes suddenly appeared around it. As this was her first time witnessing a summoning, she had very little idea what was going on. Nevertheless, she knew better than to interrupt the Mimic for no good reason. Another bad habit that had been systematically beaten out of her.

  The sudden light show dispersed after ten seconds, leaving behind a woman wearing a skimpy red leather outfit. She was clearly no human or elf given her enormous breasts, blue skin and hair, golden curved horns, huge bat-like wings and the spaded tail sprouting from just above her plush backside.

  Xera’s glowing red eyes stared disdainfully at the gnome as though she were looking at a piece of horse dung on the side of the road.

  “Inferior creature,” she hissed. “How dare you hog my beloved master’s affections all this time?”

  “I, uh, you what? Master? Affections? Beloved? W
HAT!”

  “Ah, I said it out loud…” the succubus put a hand to her cheek.

  The demoness had been doing a lot of soul-searching these past few weeks, mostly because there wasn’t much else to do in the Beyond. And, much to her surprise, she’d found that she missed being by her master’s side. The Mimic was a violent, abusive, selfish prick that unapologetically viewed her as a thing rather than a person, and consequently she had grown immensely fond of it.

  She had at first hesitated to call the strange sensation something silly like ‘love.’ After all, a succubus in love? What sort of absurd fairy tale was that? However, between the crushing loneliness she had felt after having her contract forcefully terminated and the unmistakable jealousy now welling up in her breast, there was very little doubt in her mind.

  Xera turned her attention away from the tiny harlot and towards the object of her twisted affections. The harsh look on her face vanished instantly, replaced by a soft, almost demure expression. Her eyes lit up and her lips quivered a bit as she smiled.

  “M-Master?” she asked in a shaky voice.

  “Yes?” Boxxy answered through its restored telepathic link.

  “Masteeeeeer!”

  She nearly wept with joy as she leapt headfirst at the Mimic, arms wide open as if to hug the wooden chest. Overcome with a fuzzy, nostalgic feeling, Boxxy also moved to accept her embrace.

  Which meant that it opened its massive maw and closed it around her upper body, its sharp teeth sinking into her soft flesh as it gnawed on her mercilessly. The succubus shuddered at the long-awaited stimulation, pain turning to pleasure as she revelled in the intense sensations only Boxxy T. Morningwood could give her. The hardcore masochist had yearned for this so much that she set a personal record of four climaxes before her corporeal form gave out and her soul was sent back to the Beyond, moaning all the while.

  Boxxy was left quite satisfied as well. It had sorely missed Snack’s comforting flavour, though it couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit annoyed when her succulent demon-flesh disappeared from its mouth.

  “Uhm, B-Boxxy?” Fizzy spoke up. “Wh-who was that?”

  “That was Snack.”

  “Ah… I see…”