by Wolfe Locke
The demon looked at Seraph oddly before replying. "Your debt to me is secondary. I will pass the contract to another who can speak for you to pay or excuse it altogether, I have not yet decided. I have not healed you for your sake, Seraph. I have the same goal as every living, breathing thing. I want to live and live well. Tell me, Seraph, when you wield a weapon, do you clean it after use? Do you sharpen the blade? Do you clean the rifle? Or do you let your tools languish and rust just because you can't or don't use them currently? You are the same to me."
Seraph glared at the demon but couldn't fault the logic of the argument. "Well, I guess thank you for saving me, but I find it hard to believe it’s that simple. You'll have to forgive me if I still think you have an ulterior motive," he replied once he was finally able to move around, his body for the first time in weeks removed from his restraints. Seraph knew the Demon Prince had an ulterior angle, it was just a matter of knowing if the angle was something he could handle when it appeared. As if the demon could read his mind, he responded.
"Of course I have an ulterior motive, Seraph, I'm a demon. But I don't desire the end of the world, and neither do I desire Hell on Earth. Or whatever other fantasy about evil you humans have concocted. I want you to join us, not as this human you are, but as your true self, the Angel of Darkness, the Black Seraph. Even now, I can see vestiges of your true self peeking through this skin you wear like a costume. The power in that Emblem yearns to be unleashed. We want you to ascend and join the ranks of Demon Princes, and when this game is over, rule the world alongside us and for you to count yourself among our number," explained the Demon Prince as he walked towards the center of the room and began to disappear.
The Demon Prince's last words before he vanished were, "By helping you, we help ourselves. Oblivion has no appeal. Nor does lording over a dead world."
As the antagonistic demon disappeared a number of mage lights spawned into existence overhead, completely illuminating the room. Where the prince had been standing a set of heavy black armor appeared in the air before dropping to the ground without a sound. The armor was beautiful, polished, ornate, and powerful. Dark, swirling with images of the profane as souls struggled within the armor to gain freedom accented by a long crimson cape that Seraph recognized as being a null mantle, offering protection against most magic. Priceless, this is priceless.
As Seraph looked at the armor and cape in admiration, a long sleek spear with a black obsidian head appeared. It has been beyond a lifetime since I last wielded one of those. Seraph picked the spear up without any effect. His grip upon it was comforting and familiar. A warmth flowed into him from the spear, offering familiarity and a welcomed respite from his present circumstances. The feel of the spear reminded Seraph of another life when he had ruled over all life within the dungeon. But that was another life, Seraph told himself as he swung the spear for good measure, it has been too long since I last held a spear in my hand. Satisfied, he grabbed at the armor and started to put it on. Instantly, magically, it bonded to the surface of his skin as it radiated dread power.
Notification: Do you wish to claim the Spear of Bloody Destiny and the Armor of the Damned for yourself? If so, the Demon Lord Beelzebub asks for only one thing, the remnant of the soul of the child Luca that resides within you.
Yes/No?
Looking at the words, Seraph thought to himself, So that's the ulterior motive. Seraph sighed and began to undo the armor, allowing it to fall to the ground rather than waiting for the magic to kick in. Even though Seraph was able to break bound oaths, he had still promised Paul to try and restore his younger self back to life. I won't squander that promise, not here, not even now.
"My answer is no," he said without hesitation. The Spear and Armor quickly vanished before his eyes as the magic lights blinked out of existence. Seraph was alone in the dark. With nothing else to do, he screamed in rage as he scrambled in the dark, feeling his way through the unflinching darkness that had enveloped him.
"Alone again," Seraph muttered to himself bitterly as he crawled, his feelings heavy with resignation. His dark vision didn't help as he crawled on his hands and knees hoping to reach the wall, and when the cold stone pressed against his fingertips, he shuffled over and leaned against it for comfort as he cradled his head in his hands and cursed himself as a fool for denying the demon's offer.
How do I make this right? Wormwood is still coming. The end of everything is on the horizon, and so long as I'm trapped here, I can't help. I can't do anything. Maybe I can use my inventory now that I'm free from the restraints. For a brief moment, Seraph felt a surge of hope as he tried to reach into his spatial pocket, but when he felt actual cloth rather than the items he had intended, he knew it was still restricted.
So my hands are still tied, even though I'm no longer bound to the wall, Seraph thought anxiously as he tried to consider his options. If I know anything about the dungeon, it's that nothing is ever final, not even death. There has to be a trick to get out of here. What am I missing? What is it I haven't seen?
Seraph looked around and threw his hands up in frustration as he grumbled, "It's too dark in here to see anything. Even if there was something written on the walls, it's not like I can see it." But, Seraph thought to himself, maybe that's part of it. If it’s something I can't see, then it might be something else altogether. Maybe the trick belongs to the name of this place, what was it called? Perdition's Oubliette? The forgetting place. That might be it then, what is it that I'm supposed to forget, or remember.
Leaning his head back against the wall, Seraph sat in muted silence as the question lingered on his mind. It's like the demon said, my hands run red with blood. I've with impunity and without remorse. But as Seraph sat and thought, the answer never came to him, until finally for the first time he slept lying down.
Chapter 38: The Prisoner
“You should have come with me, you know?" the young elf woman called out to him with a coy smile, distracting him from the task of looting the old guildhall for everything it was worth as those loyal to him dragged away a few vagrants and beggars for interrogation who hadn't cleared out yet. Luca would keep his eyes open; the remnants of the Legends and Chaos guilds were a problem that needed to get handled.
"Maybe I should have," Luca admitted, though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed it. The powers he had gained from the old guild leaders when he killed them had drastically boosted his own profile. Even now with Dominic's powers within him, he felt near unbeatable.
As if she noticed the thought a slight frown spread across her face. "Why do you still call yourself Luca anyways? You’re not him anymore. What was it those humans wanted to call you? Seraph, wasn’t it? It would be a good fit given those wings of yours. Like some dark avenging angel."
Luca flexed his wings in response, the feathered appendages moving much more easily than they used to as the muscles in his back developed to handle them and with the increase in his base stats, the changes in his body were easily accommodated. Soon he would be able to fly with ease. In regard to her questions though, he wasn’t sure. She did have a point. He felt so far removed from the boy he had been. It was practically a lifetime ago when he was the crippled boy dying on the road.
"Nostalgia, maybe?" he answered. "But I’m not sure. You’re right. I’ve no real reason to keep it, and Seraph does have a ring to it, even if the one who tried to give me the moniker was a bastard."
"What about you, though?" he asked. "This is our second meeting, and yet I still don’t have a name to call you."
She gave him a slight smile as she turned to walk back towards the city. "It’s Sadie Harmontree. Do try to stay alive out there, Seraph. Your kind don’t respawn like mine does."
As Seraph looked out at the fire starting in the upstairs of the guildhall, he didn't bother to tell her he planned on living forever.
Seraph woke up from his sleep in a cold sweat, noticing for the first time that the absolute chill of his cell seemed to have vanished. Whether it had be
en weeks or months he couldn't be sure anymore. Time no longer had meaning and passed by indiscriminately. Memories of the past continued to haunt him, as did the suspicion that Sadie could not be revived.
A single lingering question was heavy on his mind, why did you turn down the offer? He still didn't have an answer, but Seraph didn't regret the decision. If his younger self still existed within him, that was worth protecting. But until he could manage to get free, Seraph's dreams offered the only reprieve available from the hell that was his dark prison. Dreams he now indulged freely in, finally allowed to sleep having been freed from the cursed restraints that had bound him before.
Notification: You have resisted "The Tainted Offer"
Details: Those condemned to Perdition are doomed to suffer until the end of their sentence, unless they show a degree of regret or remorse for their actions. Something that shows a desire for penance. If this condition is met, a prisoner will be allowed to undertake the Four Pillars of Forgiveness.
Because you have resisted a tainted offer, you will be granted the opportunity to undertake these trials to prove yourself deserving of freedom and a second chance.
Notification: Quest Unlocked - The Four Pillars of Forgiveness
Details: You must complete the four challenges in order to have your status and access to your inventory unsealed. Upon successful completion of the Four Pillars, you will be given the opportunity to overcome the Demon Prince of this floor. Should you fall in any of the challenges of the Four Pillars you will be teleported back to your cell.
The specifics of each test and task will not be disclosed to you. You must practice good judgment and discernment to complete each task.
The notification faded away as Seraph pondered the meaning. Shortly after they were gone, a noise interrupted his thoughts as Seraph turned towards the source of the noise, stone grinding against stone. It's true then. I've got a chance to get out of here. I can't waste this. Rays of dim light shone through, partially lighting up the room, revealing a cell door that had been embedded in the wall. Slowly the door opened up with a rusty creak, allowing Seraph access to the hallway, offering him a chance at freedom.
For a moment, Seraph hesitated as he looked at the open door of the cell as he looked at the light from the hallway that flooded into the room. He had to look away, the light hurt his eyes. Yet even though the road to freedom was so close, Seraph struggled to find the desire to run towards it. A malaise was upon him, beset by a regret that was uncommon for him as he thought about Sadie and how she had sacrificed herself to heal the mortal wound that almost killed him. Her memory stirred by his recent dream.
During his imprisonment, he had thought of her often, another one of the "if only" regrets Seraph carried with him. Those regrets were almost immeasurable and the more he remembered, the more he wished he could change.
All of Seraph’s many regrets weighed on him heavily. Each mistake was more costly than the last, their combined weight enough to crush any man if one just stopped to consider the combined sum. Another persistent thought lingered in Seraph’s mind and spread like cancer eating him. A darkness within him he couldn’t shake. I am failing. The things I have set out to do have not been enough, I've saved no one. Not even myself. Regardless of the outcome of his fight with the leader of the Inquisition of the Blind Eye, Seraph knew he only had himself to blame for the loss and his imprisonment. If I had only been stronger became a mantra in his mind.
A mantra further fueled by the missed opportunity of the power within the dark armor and the spear Seraph had turned down, and the loss of the time since that followed. No, not a missed opportunity, it was the right decision, Seraph corrected himself.
One thing Seraph knew for sure after losing the fight against the other legendary classes, he had reached the limit of how far his own abilities could take him, and how much his foreknowledge could carry him forward. He had not been able to widen the gap far enough to prevent others from catching up. The only thing he had managed was to activate the power of the Black Emblem.
If he could have just reclaimed the full power of the Black Seraph he could have instantly surpassed them all, but as things were, Seraph had been unable to use that power when he needed it. He had not advanced fast enough, and the few allies he had, Seraph wasn't sure he could count on, either to fight alongside him, or to be useful in a fight.
He was not all-powerful like he had been in his first life. Mistakes could not be overcome with force and overwhelming power and even if he did escape from Perdition, it was unlikely any of the other humans would leave him be to pursue his mission. Not with his identity exposed. They all know who he really was, at least they thought they did. If Seraph lost another fight, it wouldn't end in his imprisonment, it would end in death; even if he could seize a portion of his old power, he wasn’t sure it would be enough.
Seraph shook his head, trying to shake away the feelings of despair that clung to him. I'm not going to sit here in this hole and wait for the end of the world. I'll have my revenge on those who've condemned me. I'll destroy the Inquisition of the Blind Eye. I'll do what I've done before, I'll take power from my enemies. I'll use their lives to propel myself towards godhood.
The thoughts seemed alien to him, confusing as if something was trying to redirect his thoughts towards another goal that was at odds with his own. A few moments later, his thoughts cleared, and he got up and willed himself towards the doorway that had opened up in his cell and peered out cautiously.
From the hallway, Seraph saw a long corridor leading away from his cell. Though the hallway was illuminated by blue mage fire that hung suspended in the air at even intervals, Seraph still had difficulty seeing. My dark vision should have worked here, he mused, assuming the change in his vision might have been the ill effect of his imprisonment or even an active debugging effect on this floor for prisoners. I can't rule out the possibilities of current enchantments and other spells being used on me.
Seraph looked down the hallway and saw that there was a set of stairs winding upwards , though where those stairs led to, he could only guess, though he reasoned it would likely be towards an exit point. No, that's too obvious. Whatever I might find at the end of those stairs will be the death of me if I can't defeat it. It might look like the quickest way out, but there's no way it’s that simple. There has to be something within one of these other cells that will provide me some measure of an advantage.
Taking a moment to clear his thoughts, Seraph looked again, checking for traps or alarms. There they are, he told himself as he spotted a glimmer of red energy, the red ruby of a Golem's Eye providing overwatch as it constantly shifted its field of vision. I just need to get past that, I would have triggered it already if I had just taken off without restraint.
He looked up and down the hall for signs of escape, or for roving guards, and some sign indicating just where to go. Seraph found none, except for the glint of additional artifacts embedded within the walls that parsed the surroundings for movement, but otherwise had no function unless otherwise directed by their controller. Likely the warden of this prison, or maybe the titan, perhaps even the Demon Prince of this floor, Seraph thought darkly, wanting to avoid the encounter; without his former body he knew the fight against the prince would be his demise, even more so if it was the prince he was thinking of, Adramelech.
I’ll need to run from cover to cover when the Golem’s Eyes aren’t watching, thought Seraph. But stealth never was a strong point of mine, he admitted to himself, deciding to sprint across the hall towards the next room. Hopeful that he might find items, treasures, or other ways to gain some kind of powerup that would help him close the difference in power between him and all of his enemies.
Keeping his attention on the Golem's Eye, Seraph waited for the right moment when the artifact’s vision just barely started to turn away from where he was to start their scanning pattern. Seraph took the opening to run, heading in a straight line for the cell across from his and opened the heavy iron-la
ced door, not having the time to check for threats or prepare a spell before entering.
The door pushed open with a loud creak, revealing a magically lit room littered with broken bones cracked open for their marrow and cobwebs over a grey and dirtied floor of cold stone. Judging by the degree of filth, Seraph knew whatever was imprisoned here, or made its home here, was a creature, not a man, something less than human. Only some of the more monstrous of beings live in their own filth.
Seraph was not foolish enough to believe his knowledge made him invulnerable. Caution from this point on was his mantra. If there’s anything my encounter with the Inquisition of the Blind Eye has taught me, it is the importance of reality. I am not immortal or unkillable.
A startled cry interrupted his thoughts as Seraph looked towards its source, centering on a pile of withered hay in the corner of the room. Some of the hay had been spread as if to make a bed, and there Seraph found the owner of the room. A pale and scrawny-looking blonde woman, her cheeks marred by dirt and grime. She recoiled from him in fear as soon as he noticed her.
Looking at her, Seraph's heart began to beat as if driven by uncontrollable compulsion towards her of anger. Seraph was not one to be fooled so easily by glamours and lies as he summoned the Thousand Handed ability he had learned, and though he had only unlocked a score of the spectral limbs, it would be enough for a show of force as he channeled his Burning Fist ability through the limbs.
"What are you?" Seraph commanded as he advanced on the whimpering monster. "I know you're not a human, no use in pretending otherwise. But if you're a prisoner like I am, we can talk. We can escape."
