Devil's Waltz

by Dante Sakurai

  Rowan couldn’t not mess with someone like this. “How can I let someone with a pussy like Ayla’s go? She was so tight and hot and wet. Gabby’s too. Their screams were so delicious while I shocked and fucked them silly. And I really could fuck them all night. I wish I knew where they live in the real—”

  “LEEET. THEEEM. GOOOO!” A lot of spittle flew from his teeth.

  Okay. Blinte was not stable upstairs. The others, however, looked saner, reacting with varying levels of disgust and outrage. The typical remarks came—stuff about how sick and depraved and inhumane Rowan was. The usual. Cool.

  “How are you not fucking banned yet!” a girl in Priest robes shrieked over the others.

  “May the gods have mercy on your spirit, Rowan!” Jonathan.

  The monkey screeches were painful to the ears. The only reason Rowan did not send his minions on the lot was to buy time for everyone else. This could be a distraction on their side too—but for what? He shrugged and checked on the battle, glancing away despite Lance’s need for attention. The onslaught was really dwindling now. Nothing suspect was up. He looked to the chatbox.

  Rowan Black (Raid Chat): Ambiguous, they’re stalling for something. Do you detect anything? Spawnstones? Any assassins strong enough to one-hit me?

  Ambiguous Pain: Nothing. Their main group is still by the mountain pass, coming slowly.

  Perplexed, Rowan scratched his cheekbone.

  Then another one of the Dark Humans’ icons changed from a blank circle to an onyx shield. Void Rider. A wave of dark mana promptly came from the Dark Temple, but the righteous group didn’t appear to notice from within their pocket of light. How fortunate.

  Lance sighed. He gestured for the monkeys to quiet. A Warrior restrained Blinte. “Rowan. Look. They’re going to have to log out sooner or later. This isn’t going to go on forever. So why don’t you cut it short and prevent further consequences for yourself?”

  “You’re really trying to reason with me?”

  His chin lifted. “I believe in the good inside everyone, even the the worst of people. You must learn what you did to them is utterly despicable!”

  “Despicable? How so?”

  “Ayla is begging for help!”

  The chatbox shook.

  Ayla Frost (Raid Chat): My ritual is one stab away from completion. Ambiguous says the mana surge for DK is much more violent. They will definitely feel it. Signal when you’re ready for my grand unveiling. :)

  Perfect timing. These fools were in for the surprise of their lives. Rowan batted the air with gloveless fingers. “That doesn’t mean anything. She secretly loves it.” As in she secretly loved the act, but they didn’t need to know that. “You’re not a darkie like us.”

  Lance said, “No, she doesn’t love it in the slightest, and this isn’t about being a darkie! This is about being a decent person!”

  “Hear hear! Nicely said!” Jonathan banged his chest with a fist.

  Ignoring the jester, Rowan said seriously, “I think this is exactly about being a darkie. We are not alike, and you will shortly see exactly how wrong you are.”

  Lance’s lips pinched for a moment. “You tortured and raped a woman, Rowan.”

  Rowan’s face deadened beneath the hood. “She wishes someone like me would make a move on her.” She probably did. Who knows what went on in that squirrel head.

  Lance frowned, words hitched on his tongue, and before he could retort, Rowan gave the signal with a go-ahead ping to Ayla.

  In an instant after the ping hit her interface, a frigid, screaming typhoon of gale-force winds blasted from all directions. Thick dark-ice mana flowed into Rowan’s body in the surge, and terror briefly took over the faces of the righteous many before him. Blue light reflected off their Light Screens. Rowan glanced over his shoulder and found an icy beam lighting up the night sky. Had his own ascension been so dramatic? Viola’s Lunar Knight ascension had been hardly more than a ripple like the others.

  And up there among the clouds, the enemy dragons paused in their assault, their heads angled at the unfinished castle. Redwing and Seth didn’t grant them reprieve and slaughtered dozens in the momentary advantage. The shrieks of death complemented the light show nicely.

  Ayla’s water droplet icon faded out, and an icy menacing sword faded in, a skull at its guard. She was now a Death Knight.

  Rowan turned back to the fools. “Guess who that was. I’ll give you a hint: her last name is Frost. Why did you think she changed it the other week?” The reasoning was a broad logical jump through several hoops, so to clear all doubt, Rowan focused on Ayla’s party entry and shared it with them.

  Those expressions were priceless, Blinte’s face most of all. Jonathan was a sure-fire runner-up. They were suffering full-blown mental breakdowns, Jonathan’s lips quivering and Blinte’s eyes streaming tears. Monkey one, monkey two. No wonder people like Gabrielle and those in her secret society hid from the public and manipulated everything from behind the scenes. The masses were little more than animals. They deserved to be herded like animals—because that was the easiest and most entertaining way of working with them.

  Lance visibly swallowed and stared down Rowan. He said in a vile tone, “If it were up to me, every last darkie would be banned from Aeon Chronicles.”

  Rowan’s eyes rolled. “Then I’m glad it’s not up to you.”

  The swarm collapsed on their puny defensive position, long ready. Their three Light Screens put up little resistance against the mixed fire and ice, their health bars draining in seconds. Rowan savored their cries and screams. Soon, the continent would be cleansed of these animals.

  Chapter 35

  Allaire

  Gabrielle couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting to the chatbox and re-reading Row’s private message. Beautiful creature? Such a lame compliment for his fucktoy and lover! It conjured mental pictures of goblins in lipstick. What in Lucifer’s name made him randomly say that? It was out of nowhere and for no apparent reason at all. It could only come from her dumb yet sometimes-brilliant Row… Ugh.

  But there had to be a reason. Gabrielle sucked on a cheek, kept on puffing down an alleyway, and lettered out a message for the boy.

  Gabby LeMort (To Rowan Black): So what was with the beautiful creature compliment? It was kinda weird. Were ya tryin’ to be weird?

  His expected answer came after an acceptable delay.

  Rowan Black: That Jonathan guy said it, asked me how could I do it to such beautiful creatures.

  Oh! That cleared it up.

  Gabby LeMort: Like seriously or jokingly?

  While waiting for an answer, Gabrielle nearly puffed head-first into a frantic platoon of guards, no Priests with them, thankfully. They were on high alert after what happened at the hospital. No evacuation yet despite Ayla’s jig being over and done with. They had oh-so-smartly arrived at the conclusion that the hospital attack had been a diversion to get Ayla her ascension. Stupid. And Dorian was still nowhere to be seen.

  Row’s answer came at last, taking enough jiffies.

  Rowan Black: He said a bunch of NPC-like things. He might’ve been roleplaying, but I’m not sure. He sounded too serious. Something seemed different about him. Like he was bordering on real insanity. He thinks we met before.

  Gabby LeMort: Huh.

  Huh.

  How fascinating. This sounded like the start of a most-interesting mystery. More needed to be known about this Jonathan fellow. Could it be the same Jonathan from Westwind? Possible, considering Row’s lingering memory problems; his brain needed more recovery time. Maybe Uncle Darius could send one of those handy-dandy printouts.

  Gabrielle dodged another platoon, missing them by twenty feet. No Priests. The NPCs didn’t like playing support too.

  And Uncle Vincent would surely love to hear about Jonathan! There had to be something up with the dragon boy’s brain.

  The chatbox trilled a high note.

  Rowan Black: Btw, you really are my beautiful creature.

 
Dammit, Row! Some boys just couldn’t be fully tamed—a sad yet happy reality of life.

  Rowan Black: One that needs to be tied up and spanked occasionally.

  Hehehe. Maybe it wasn’t so weird.

  Gabby LeMort: But I’m a good girl! ^_^ No shock collars, please!

  Rowan Black: We’ll see if you need one… tonight.

  Uh oh.

  Her body quivering in certain places with a tinsy bit of lascivious guilty pleasure, Gabrielle swallowed more sour draught, slapped away the taboo fantasies, and continued toward the final sector behind an inner palisade where the wealthier of the poor dwelled. Even here, the natural order of wealth and power was evident: the weak many at the bottom, the aspiring some at the middle, and the select elite few at the top right here in these slightly fancier wooden houses. Overpopulated humans in their natural habitat, a microcosm in its poorest variant when resources were at a minimum.

  Things were going to drastically change in this continent. Dark Humans were moving in, and they were superior by… however much. Please be by a lot.

  On the Detection Ward’s radar display, the concentration of patrolling dots remained constant though the number of sleepers was far sparser. Less than four or five hundred lived here. A few dozen players milled about—for perhaps a quest.

  And…

  There were several high-level Priests. Yup, they’d for sure detected little ol’ Gabby tip-toeing through a gap in the warded palisade. Their dots stilled for a few seconds then began moving in completely different directions. 100% detected. Lame.

  Now, was it time to get out the broom or lead them to an eventual trap?

  The latter was funner.

  Gabrielle puffed like she never puffed before, sprinting and sprinting whenever her moccasins touched down onto loose cobblestone. The guards smartly did not chase her through these zig-zagging alleys, and Puff’s range outclassed any movement skill the light classes had anyway. She dropped the final warhead within a few inconspicuous oak trees in between two Puffs and kept on going to avoid drawing suspicion to it. Simple. Easy.

  Then on cue, the first player dot slipped into the radar’s edge from the east. It moved at the speed of a good flying mount, and it was none other than… Dorian. On his phoenix.

  Hmmm. Time for a bomb trap. But where?

  Gabrielle traversed the scraggy, weedy roads, her eyes darting left then right then left for a good venue. Dorian was a bit too smart to chase through the alleys.

  The next player dot appeared on a slower flying mount, leading several others. Sienna Flow. Her again. Slutty assassin extraordinaire. She could two or three-shot Gabrielle.

  Rounding a corner, Gabrielle spotted an unkempt grassy field—a perfect trap location. She leaped onto the grass and reached into her pouch. Shrunken, high-tier caustic bombs the size of golf balls came out one by one and sprinkled onto the tall grass and weeds and were heeled into the soil, their bluish-green color blending in nicely though not completely if you crouched and looked closely, the capital’s gigantic area shield quite bright at night. The field was nice and saturated like raisin bread dough in no time. Then to top it off, a totem made from skulls, onyx, and raptor skins planted into the center. Oh, a birdie gold idol gently glowed at the top, waiting for a little mental jab to activate.

  Tight giddiness curled in Gabrielle’s belly while she waited in anticipation.

  Soon enough, Dorian’s pretty phoenix flew by the capital’s area shield, rapidly descended, and hovered several meters in the air at the field’s edge. His usual meanie-face wasn’t present. Strange. He slowly touched down. Then dismounted—to rid himself of the damage penalty, of course.

  He did not grab his staff from his back, then approached slowly like an old acquaintance.

  Huh?

  Gabrielle blinked twice, her eyelids making cartoonish sound effects in her head.

  “Gabrielle Allaire,” he said stoically.

  “Yuppers. That’s me! Ya remembered my name!” She smiled not too coldly.

  He smirked arrogantly. “Or should I say, Gabrielle Roth.”

  Almost choking, she had to disconnect all the emotional strings connecting her face muscles to her jolted brain. “Which monkey spilled the beans?”

  “Your uncle.” He made the subtle hand gesture indicating he was from a lower rung in the Order.

  She responded with a messy inner-circle gesture. It felt irksome to do so, especially here—too formal for the mood. Ugh. “Vincent?”

  He nodded once.

  So not a monkey, Gabrielle believing him. Any lying here could result in severe consequences for him. “Why?”

  “I overheard.”

  Even Uncle Vincent could be monkeyish sometimes. “Does he know?”

  Dorian nodded, and a leak in his facial expression indicated stress. He was in some trouble. Good. And considering he was here right now… “Then this means ya know of the plan, correct?”

  “It’s all a show. It’s all a marketing scheme, though a very risky one.”

  Gabrielle allowed a quick titter to get through her mask. “Yup! We’re gonna be all over social media and news outlets by morning.”

  Dorian’s girly eyebrow arched. “Because of Ayla’s post and acting? That was your idea.”

  Not just that, she didn’t dare answer, face blank. Though it was mostly her plot, Row could rightfully take some credit. He had chipped in during the chat.

  Dorian went on, “I thought so. I must say it was good, especially when the playerbase is mostly young. They viciously attacked me when I dared to say it was a ruse. Well done. I’d expect nothing less from someone like you, Lady Roth.” The title was said with an appropriate level of boring respect.

  Gabrielle’s shoulders sank by a fraction of an inch. This was exactly why she preferred using her other last name. Order boys were so afraid. “Mmhmm. So… are ya gonna stop me? I assume you’re not gonna join me when Row killed your bro. By the way, we’re courting, so don’t ya try pulling anything on him.”

  His face darkened, but he managed to restrain himself. “You know my mana ty—”

  Her arms spread wide, a jovial expression bursting through. “Of course, silly! You’re in the order. Ya have to be a darkie.”

  “I see.” His chin jerked toward the totem. “What’s that for? Why are you here?”

  “Nothin.”

  A deep frown carved welts into his forehead. He looked around and over his shoulder, having the audacity to look away from her. He looked everywhere but down, to the rooftops at the left, to the moons above the capital’s shield. Then finally looked downward for a trice—and back up. His swirling Draco eyes slowly came back to her. What a roller coaster ride that was!

  Eventually, as Sienna and the others neared, Dorian sighed. “It was a double bluff. You’re not here for anything at all but to divert me and anyone smart enough to catch on, which happens to be most of those who have a second-tier class. The real objective was to get Ayla to the temple and buy time for her ritual. You’ve already won.”

  Wow. Just wow.

  There was only one correct move in response. Gabrielle swallowed visibly, on purpose, and said with a touch of false nervousness, “Nope. You’re wrong.”

  He bought it. “Well played.” He smirked that arrogant smirk again. “But unfortunately, you’re surrounded by a dozen second-tier class players. Even with those invulnerability totems, you won’t win. You might as well suicide and respawn, Lady Roth.” Finally, he reached for his staff like a good monkey. His figure ignited with a fiery silhouette as he gripped the silver.

  “Ya wish.” Gabrielle’s wand spun between her fingers, a curse thrown.

  Fire consumed Dorian’s body, the curse dodged. On the radar display, the boy appeared behind her. Sienna was a hundred meters away. Seventy. Fifty.

  Dorian’s little fire attacks warmed Gabrielle’s back nicely while she held the totem in a protective embrace. It was her baby. Dorian was doing a couple percentage points of damage to her shield
per second. Pretty good, actually.

  Foot twisting, Gabrielle started up her curse chains. One wand movement blended into the next, and by the time the fourth curse was flung, Dorian was already on the retreat, yelling boyish swear words. That T6 World Boss multiplier made those curses so, so mighty.

  Sienna’s Earth Shard came sailing over the rooftops along with nine others. Eleven light players in total. Not a dozen. Dorian, that liar. And the slut had changed her glamour to something even more revealing—a tiny golden string bikini. Why even wear anything at that point? She was lucky the light players were so restrained. She wouldn’t be as lucky in a dark continent. Not Insane and Edward and the Dark Human boys would be in heaven. Maybe that’s what she really wanted.