by G. Akella
He smiled again. "No, that’s not what I mean. All I did was place memories into their minds. The rest, they do on their own. No. Unlike them, I still remember what I am, and I can never forget it. So, I will never be human. And yet in some ways, I have acquired human characteristics. I like to observe, for instance, without interfering. The Primordial Paths will remain as they are. They are a great place for new adventures, don’t you think? The Prophecy may be fulfilled, but the Game goes on."
I looked unhurriedly around the hall. "So what now?"
"You know that full well. The Black Demon must leave this world." Sage looked into my eyes, as if expecting some request, but I made none. So he nodded. "It’s not as bad as it sounds, demon. You will not die. You have earned yourself a choice. And now, farewell!"
* * *
A sharp pain pierced my jaw, and a bright light penetrated my eyelids. A vile smell filled my nostrils as I inhaled convulsively, opened my eyes, and saw a strange, anxious face above me. She was a woman in her forties, clad in dark clothes and a strange headdress. Her lips were moving. Was she speaking? Reality collided with my consciousness like a stampede of bison. Footsteps. Voices. Smells. Agony. A buzzing creak sounded from the right. My chest and right arm joined the chorus of pain started by my jaw.
"Can you hear me?" the woman repeated.
I nodded and mouthed "yes," struggling to understand what was happening.
Strange lights flooded my eyes. Then, a second person came into view, and my heart skipped a beat as I recognized him.
"It’s all right, Roman," Ivan said darkly. "At last it’s all right." "What’s wrong with him, doc?"
Ivan held some sort of rags to his chest. His lips were pressed tightly, but his eyes were filled with relief.
The EMT ignored his question and addressed me. "What’s your name?"
"Roman Kozhevnikov," I said in a detached voice, fighting hard to put my thoughts in any semblance of order.
My body ached, but the pain was bearable. No worse than losing forty percent HP. Hart! Was that really all a dream? The whole half a year in Arkon? All the gods? The demons? The dragons? Alyona, Lita, Max, Gloom, all of them?! My whole life there, and all of those loved ones I had been willing to die for? I wish I had died. I didn’t want to be back here! Rage pushed all panic from my mind. Not quite a demonic rage, but strong enough. I tried to stand.
"No, just relax!" the medic said, her hand on my chest. But she couldn’t stop me.
I sat up, and she stepped back, surprised.
"No, Roman, you can’t-" I gestured for Ivan to be quiet.
"Or I might die? I don’t care!"
I grinned as much as I could with my shattered jaw, lowered the capsule’s side, and planted my feet on the cold floor. I recognized the room. White walls, a computer desk, all sorts of equipment in the corner, and even one of those little rolling drink tables, topped with bottles and glasses. Had they forgotten to remove it? Or had my six months in Arkon been only a few minutes in the real world? The other five capsules were open, and it looked like they had people inside, too. There were ten medics in the room, two cops in the doorway, and three men to their left in civilian clothes, chatting about something. I caught a glimpse in the mirror... I didn’t look good. My chest was black and blue with dried blood and bruises, and my right arm was swollen and immovable. My jaw also hurt like hell, but it seemed to look OK. Oh well, it could have been worse. It had been worse, in fact. No. There’s no way that was a dream. I remember everything. I remember everyone! I remember all my quests! I remember killing Cheney. And talking to Sage...
Wait! He had mentioned some kind of choice at the end.
"What’s wrong with him, Jess?" said a short, gray-haired man in uniform as he approached.
"He was badly beaten. They broke his jaw and dealt some serious damage to his right arm. Possibly some broken ribs, too," the woman explained without turning away from me. "Plus, he’s in shock. Could be drugged."
"How do you feel?" the man asked.
"I feel fine."
"Can you make it outside to our car? Or is it-"
"I can make it."
"All right, then. Do you know this man?" he nodded towards Ivan.
"Yeah, doc, we know each other. Here are his things." Ivan demonstrated the rags. "ID and everything in here, too."
"Good. You make sure he makes it out OK. Call if you need help. Come on, Jess. Let’s go."
I watched the doctors leave as I collected my pants from Ivan.
"How's Sarah?"
He chuckled. "You kidding me, man? It hasn’t even been two hours!"
Ivan carefully put my shoes in front of me, moved a nearby chair over, and sat in it. He examined me, a dubious look in his eyes. Putting pants on with my left hand wasn’t the easiest activity, it turned out, but it was better than going out with nothing on. But focusing on something so rudimentary yet so difficult cleared my head and distanced me from my panic.
"Cheney is facing a life sentence," Ivan began. "The next room over has thirty people encapsulated inside, and there are likely other rooms the police haven’t found yet. All kidnapped and beaten."
"How did you find out what was happening?"
At last I coped with my zipper, buttoned up my jeans, and even gotten my sneakers on.
"Who do you think I am, Roman?" Ivan smiled, handing me a t-shirt and light windbreaker. "One of my guys on the street saw you get stuffed into a car and carted away. We followed you, but without the police’s help, we couldn’t just barge in here."
"Got it. Hey... thanks."
I carefully moved my incapacitated arm aside and put the t-shirt on. Then I held the jacket by the hanger and tossed it over my shoulder.
"Hey, Ivan, you got any cigs?"
"Yeah, come on."
At that instant, a tall, thin policeman appeared in the doorway. I didn’t really know what everything on their uniforms meant, but he looked like somebody with authority. As soon as he saw us, he approached.
"Is this him?"
Ivan nodded.
The cop looked me up and down and introduced himself.
"I’m Captain Greg Ward, San Fran police. How are you feeling?"
Hart! I knew that voice. I had spoken with this guy. So it couldn’t have been a dream! I remembered the sound of this man’s voice like my own name! All right, Roman, calm down. I tried to smile, but I was clearly having trouble holding back my emotions.
"Everything’s fine, Captain. I’ll live."
"Excellent. Get well soon. We need your testimony!" With a nod, the officer headed to the next capsule.
Ivan and I left the room. We walked down a long, narrow hallway and up a flight of stairs, passed through some empty areas of indeterminable purpose, and ended up in a spacious room with high double doors and a large mirror running along the wall. There was no hurry to our pace. The whole way, I mulled over what choice Sage could have given me. I couldn’t be going crazy, right? I remembered both the captain’s name and his voice. He had told me that they had found fifty other men and women in the house, besides Cheney and his three bodyguards. I should ask... Damn it, I didn’t want to live in this world! WHERE THE HELL WAS THIS CHOICE?! Between what and what?!
"Take it easy!"
Ivan gripped me by the shoulder, but I turned around and clenched my teeth, holding back my rage once again.
Cheney emerged from the door opposite us, accompanied by two police officers. He was in that familiar suit, hands tied behind his back with a rather squeamish look on his face. Upon noticing me, he slowed down and smiled with contempt. It took immense effort for me to keep from cracking him upside his grinning head with my good hand. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, then resumed.
"Come on, move it," one of the policemen prodded with a push in his back. The trio headed for the exit.
The courtyard was overflowing with police cars and ambulances. All emergency personnel on duty in the city must have been here. Like in some old-time crime drama.
/>
We walked down the marble steps, and I took the cigarette Ivan offered, gesturing with it to the two girls in paramedic unis heading in my direction. They nodded and returned to their car. Grabbing a light from Ivan, I inhaled deeply and looked beyond the trees, at the stars now suspended over the ocean.
"Do you know where my phone is? I want to call my sister. In Moscow."
That surprised Ivan. "You have a sister? You never mentioned it."
Bingo! It all made sense to me then. Sage had created this reality for me. He was a master of worldbuilding, but terrible at copying friends and relatives. I could always tell his fakes. The System had identified Alyona and me as family, and it was my blood that had made my sister a demoness. As soon as I came to this realization, a translucent portal opened fifteen feet to my right, between where we stood and the nearest ambulance. A moment later, large red letters appeared over it: NEW GAME...
New game... So that was the choice the Creator gave me. But it wasn’t really a choice. I did not pause to think, not even for a moment. As long as all the guys and my wife remembered me... I could get all my levels back.
I tossed the cigarette into an urn nearby, breathed in two lungs full of fresh sea air, and turned to Ivan, gripping his shoulder with my good hand.
"It’s time for me to go. Goodbye, my friend!"
Ivan smiled in response. "Goodbye, Roman, and good luck!"
With one last look at the people and vehicles around me, I shrugged and stepped into the portal, a contented smile playing on my lips.
Epilogue
(For all who, like the author, hate unresolved endings)
Welcome to the Realm of Arkon, Krian!
Attention! Krian, the Elder Demon of Fury, has come to the Realm of Arkon! Primordial Chaos has torn through the shroud of the Great Dark Ocean, revealing new zones in the Netherworld plane: Great Plain of Engulfing Fury, Dark Ocean's Western Coast, Dueling Fates Highlands, Bloody Fang Thicket, Grand Crater of Frozen Abyss.
For the deliverance of this world from the Nameless God, you receive the title: Warrior of Primordial Chaos. From now on, you deal 10% more damage with Chaos magic.
Providence has recognized and elevated five of your acquaintances. Henceforth, they are your companions: Grandmistress of Dark Magic and Necromancy, Vaessa dar Luan; General of the First Punisher Legion of the Dominion of Fury, Kan an Shyom; Grandmaster of Water Magic and Alchemy, Reece dar Tagnan; Grandmistress of Water and Life Magic, Raena Ann-Tarie; Grandmistress of Dark Magic and Necromancy and Ata Kari of the Seventh Circle, Linara ryhn Gimlad.
Your reputation with all races is changed to neutral, with these exceptions:
Great Dominion of Fury: Exalted.
Great Dominion of Passion: Revered.
Great Dominion of Illusion: Revered.
Demons: Respected.
The crimson sky is gorgeous, the air fresh and clear. The luminary hanging in the east colors the distant clouds a lush purple. There is a sun here in the Netherworld, whatever the theologians of Earth might say! Legions wander the plains stretching forth from the citadel watching over this land. My legions. My citadel. Coming to grips with my emotion, I head down the stairs. Once the tall spears and enthusiastic faces of the soldiers of the Sixth Assault Legion are in sight, I spread my wings, push off into the air, and hover a hundred yards up ahead, greeting my fighters with a roar. The titanium-clad General Glaag stands in the stirrups of his fiery steed and waves his scepter, and the plain shakes from the army’s roar in response. Some would call such display childish. To hell with them. I am an Elder Demon of the Netherworld! One of the Nine Lords! The Lord of Fury!
Moving to the Western Cliffs, I soar higher and land on a flat stone platform, striking it with my knee and fist as I do. Ever since I was a child, I have dreamed of sticking a landing like that. Like a superhero. I make no effort to break the stone. It’s just practice. For pure fun. No one can see me, anyway. I scan the area, three hundred miles in all directions. At such a distance I can only detect an equal, of course - an ordinary player would only be detectable at sixty or so miles away - but there are no players here. Not until I bring them here myself.
With a smile, I consider the new cracks in the stone and walk to its edge to survey the surrounding mountains. The Undus Ridge is but a small part of the Great Dominion of Fury. All of the geographic names, the maps and locations, the laws and customs, and the history of all the subject dominions - as well as the names and faces of the Lords, the legates, and even some of the soldiers - appeared in my memory as soon as I returned to Arkon. The Black Demon had vanished, replaced by an Elder Demon. Level 750, with 29 billion HP, a strength of 120,000, and a primary attack that dealt nearly 3 billion damage. Of all my military achievements, only three remained: Legendary Warlord, Godslayer and Slayer the Nameless God. Vaepar and Cheney had been of a higher level higher than my present one, and the Warlord achievement had been given to me for something else. The bonuses for clearing dungeons have all disappeared, and I can no longer receive bonuses from my old party, but that doesn’t matter. Two more stat bars have now joined my HP, Vigor and Mana: Rage and Prana. If I understand the Prana correctly, it means that my Rage can add a full twenty five percent to my damage. And double the damage of all allies within a radius of five miles. It drops my resistances by thirty three percent, but that is a small price to pay. Demons wear plate armor, after all. And Lita will always protect my army from magic. One hundred percent Rage allows me to use the buff for a full five hours, with a cooldown of exactly one day.
Of course, I’m no longer a member of the Order of Punishing Steel, but I am still the leader of the Steel Wolves. Craedia is still under my control, too, and my subjects eagerly await my arrival. I just have one thing to finish, first. Assuming human form, I conjure a chair, sit, and pull out my pipe. Only in human form can I smoke. Nicotine has no effect on a demon, so I thank Sage for leaving me my human side.
Strangely, my combat form is twenty five feet tall, but in it I feel inexplicably at ease. I still feel the immense weight of it, which exceeds a ton, and yet... And my horns are quite like buffalo horns these days. At least I don’t have hoofs, or worse. I exhale a puff of smoke, look at my feet, and grin. Most of my subjects have hoofs or tentacles instead of feet. Those that inhabit the coast are not even humanoid at all. Of course, the coast is more than two thousand miles away. The Dominion’s territory is a good fifty percent larger than the continent of Europe. The Grand Crater alone is five hundred miles across. Yet despite the vastness of the place, only thirty two legions are under my command. Plus eight more stationed in fortresses of the Lords subject to me.
That are nine total strongholds in the Dominion, including my citadel. And though each is as large as Vaedarr, their population density is roughly that of Siberia’s. No towns or villages are located between them, either - the outside is one immense hunting ground. There are two classes here: warriors and hunters. Each has both males and females, plus those who are able to change their sex, or are without sex entirely. Primordial Chaos has broken through the shroud of the Dark Ocean... I have wondered how Lita took control of her dominion so quickly. Now I know they’d been waiting for her. The shroud kept the dominion isolated, and its inhabitants had no buffs. Buffs like the elves' favor. But Lita’s appearance commenced the destruction of the shroud. Without my wife present, her subjects would have been left without any protection or buffs, becoming easy prey for neighboring adversaries. No one takes any prisoners here. So each Elder Demon is a liberator, a protector, even a spiritual leader to his or her dominion. There are never any uprisings here. Perhaps it isn’t quite totalitarian, but to hell with pretend democracy, full of its meaningless squabbles and posturing.
Sage has carefully placed into my head information about the key persons of the Dominion. And I know them as well as I know Elnar, Salta and Gorm, even though I have never actually seen any of them. One of them was just due to appear. First Counselor Tar-Adag. A bore, a whiner and a rogue, and yet
quite an indispensable character. Something like a prime minister.
"Greetings, Great Lord," the dry voice crackles out from behind me.
Right on time.
"Greetings, Tar," I turn with a nod to the twenty-foot-tall demon. Seeing his pained expression, I fly up to his height. "Make your report!"
I’ve always hated customs. In this land’s conversations, the head of the superior must never be lower to the ground than the head of the subordinate. Thankfully, I can hover. At least he shows no prejudice against my human form. In Craedia, smoke breaks always required me to find seclusion somewhere. There, thr Overlord was not permitted to violate the law.
"Might I remind you, O Greatness, that at noon tomorrow the Lords will all make their oath to you. Each will come to Arakata at first light." The demon bows his head slightly. "The Spectral Path has been opened, and the Dominion prepares for the Celebration."
"Is that all?"
"This morning, there was some disturbance in the Ocean, but nothing beyond acceptable levels. Our defenses are undamaged. A cohort of gorts, led by Kitana, has departed for the Misty Gate one hour hitherto. That is all."
"Thank you, Tar," I nod. "I’ll be at the Citadel tomorrow, two hours before noon arrives. See you there."
"Until then, Your Greatness," the advisor says with another head bow before vanishing into thin air.
I grin and descend to the stone floor. It worked. We’ve never seen each other before, and the report took only a minute, but I feel like I’ve known him for millennia. I can even picture where he’s going without ever having been there. But I do not know about my old party - nor how much time has passed since my disappearance. Perhaps the System has some surprises for me?
The first "surprise" hits a couple of minutes later, as I’m smoking my pipe. Two tiny dots appear over the mountains, and over the ensuing ninety seconds grow into flying dragons. As they draw to within half a mile, the reptiles lower their altitude as they start their descent.
