by Oliver Mayes
Noigel, as soon as Toutatis hits the column throw everything at him.
Damien had one small problem to negotiate first. Playing matador. He was currently the only visible target. He was standing in the right place, directly in front of a column. Sending out even a single imp would be more complicated than it was worth. He wouldn’t have time to judge whether Toutatis was attacking him or the imp. Which meant if Toutatis went for the imp, Damien would be in mid-dodge when Toutatis hit the wall and the shockwave occurred. The imp would be destroyed, Damien would be knocked back and then he’d have to run the gauntlet of avoiding Toutatis again until he reentered stealth. Demon Gating to the imp would be even messier. Whether or not he died would be decided by a coin flip.
It was simpler this way. Not necessarily safer, but definitely simpler. If he could dodge Toutatis with a level 28 warrior, he could dodge him with a level 50 occultist. Probably. Damien waited, holding his nerve as the whirlwind expanded. The spin was counterclockwise, so his best chance would be jumping wi—
Toutatis hurled himself forward. Damien immediately regretted his decision. He’d been planning on neatly hopping sideways, but that no longer seemed sufficient. He threw himself away from the impact, arms outstretched. It wasn’t as suave as he’d have liked but screw it, it worked the first time. The whirlwind picked him up, carrying him a little further and shredding him ever so slightly before Toutatis hit the column and Damien was dropped unceremoniously into the sand.
As one, all the minions emerged from cover and converged on Toutatis. Most of them were within range of at least one succubus and had been Bloodlusted. The succubi pointed at Toutatis simultaneously and two overlapping Circles of Hell appeared at his feet. Damien knew the armor-reduction effect didn’t stack, but the damage did. Noigel was following his instruction to throw everything they had into this combat. Each of the succubi was also channeling a Chaotic Bolt.
The black flames engulfing Toutatis reminded Damien of an option he had yet to avail himself of. He had his own attack involving black flames now – ‘Demon-Spear’ – although it wasn’t quite so easy to pull off and was as yet untested. No time like the present, especially since Toutatis was once again heaving on his weapon, exposing his ribcage. Damien rolled forward and flung both kunai, grabbing the chains tightly and raising his hands up. They felt hot for a second before he swished them down and two balls of black fire traveled side by side along the crest of the chains’ wave.
Toutatis had turned his attention to the missiles lodged in his side, grabbing the chains with the intention of yanking Damien off his feet. The movement of the chains was halted around his closed fists but the fire riding the crest pushed through them, all the way into the blades.
Toutatis had already been burning from standing in two Circles of Hell. Damien had thought that the visual effect of his skill, especially when layered on top of similar effects, would be underwhelming. He was sorely mistaken. If Circle of Hell could be likened to a roaring fire in functionality, intensity and scale, this ability lay somewhere in between a dynamite plunger, a car battery and an incendiary bomb.
The two black sparks passed into Toutatis’s body, and in the span of a low whoomph Toutatis was no longer simply on fire. His body was charred, cracked, blackened ash. The damage was hard to measure accurately since he was hit less than a second later by two Chaotic Bolts from two sides. He was already in a bad way, and now the rest of the minions were arriving.
Damien Demon Gated to the first of them: Noigel, who’d taken point and was dive-bombing the burning god with a pair of flimsy throwing knives raised above his head. It was ideal. Damien had no idea whether Noigel was setting him up for the switcheroo or if he’d been pulled out of a full-on Hail Mary, but either way his number-one imp was in danger of earning Damien’s sincere respect. He earned a more immediate reprieve as Damien replaced him and followed through on Noigel’s strategy with the agility required to make it work.
Circle of Hell reduced armor integrity by 50%. The Demon-Spear also reduced armor by 50%, if only for a modest five-second duration. He was pretty sure that since they were separate abilities their effects would stack, although he didn’t know whether it was cumulative or multiplicative. Whichever it was, it was super effective. His kunai sank through the black tar, through the melted-slag remains of Toutatis’s helmet and into his skull.
The imps and hounds arrived and were all over Toutatis a second after Damien had made his mark, alighting on Toutatis’s body before raking every inch of him. Those that found space on his arms and legs only had a couple of seconds to do it with. Toutatis’s armor had been so diminished he may as well have been completely naked, which was saying something considering how naked he was already. Damien got the best of it, in pride of place over Toutatis’s head.
Despite the unwieldy nature of his new weapons, he still managed to administer two more stabs before the Demon-Spear debuff was gone. He and his minions had inflicted colossal damage with still more coming. By the time the Demon-Spear debuff was over, Toutatis was long overdue for the next stage.
Toutatis wasted no time in kicking down the column to retrieve his sword, forcing Damien to jump clear. The imps and hounds remained where they were, savaging Toutatis from head to toe as the remnants of the column rained down upon them.
Now Damien was further back he could see the fruits of his labors. Toutatis was at 35% health and it was still dropping as the hounds and imps continued their assault. The next whirlwind would be brutal. Toutatis didn’t wait for the column to finish falling to begin his spin. The imps and hounds were thrown off him in all directions, many of them getting sliced and diced before they were out of range. Damien pointed at the only imp yet to be thrown clear by the centrifugal force. There could only be one. Noigel had planted his knives in Toutatis’s back and was clinging on for as long as he could.
“Imp-losion.”
Much of the falling debris had been pulled into Toutatis’s orbit by the winds, but not yet long enough for the twisting matter to grind it down. The whirlwind was culled in its infancy and Noigel was sucked into the portal that appeared. Then the whirlwind was sucked into the space Noigel had vacated. Damien corralled all his surviving minions to his side as he retreated to the center of the arena before turning to view the aftermath.
Somewhere between the first and the twentieth boulder, Toutatis’s spin had been brought to a complete halt. He’d still been stood over the Circles of Hell when they’d collided with him. Toutatis pulled what remained of the helmet from his head, revealing his face: bald, bearded, warpainted and drenched in his own blood and brains, oozing from the four hideous wounds Damien had inflicted to his head.
8% health. Down to his last and looking meaner and more murderous than ever. This was exactly the stage Damien had been hoping to avoid with an expedient nuking. He probably should’ve waited until Toutatis’s health was a bit lower before going all in. Toutatis reclaimed his sword and began running toward Damien at breakneck speed.
No Noigel to implement instructions. Demon Gate on cooldown. Stats cut by 40%. Damien threw all the minions at Toutatis, trying to slow him down as he bought time to figure out what to do. He knew it wouldn’t work before they’d even reached the enraged god. The minions were useful for ambushes or applied at a point of weakness. Even a possessed incubus would not slow down an angry Toutatis one jot. There was only one skill he had left that was both useful and available. The question was how he himself might survive it.
Toutatis had already cut down a succubus and a hound without breaking his stride. He’d be on Damien in seconds. Better to die trying something stupid and learn from it than die doing nothing. Damien threw one of his kunai into his opponent’s chest as Toutatis bounded across the open ground toward him, his sword raised to strike. Damien pointed his free kunai at an imp between them and braced himself. This had better work.
“Ex-Imp-losion.”
Damien hadn’t been counting his Imp-losions during his traversal of t
he Inner Circle and certainly didn’t have time to check how many stacks the ability currently held. Not less than three. A more accurate assessment than that was difficult since he was currently being subjected to its effects.
The preexisting minions had all been packed fairly close together and were the first struck by the expanding shock wave. While they somersaulted helplessly outward, clearing the field, the newly remanifested imps were shot through or into them at full speed. It must’ve been quite something to go from nothingness to hurtling into existence in a hostile world. Their circumstances were completely out of their control unless they survived long enough for their lives to have meaning. Damien wouldn’t be relying on them here.
The sand directly beneath them was forced out of the ground by pure air pressure to reveal the cold flagstones beneath. Sand is very shock-absorbent, but not Ex-Imp-losion-proof from a couple of feet away. The released air of all the Imp-losions passed unimpeded through the air far more quickly. Damien was blown backward, only to get held in place by the chain of the kunai embedded in Toutatis’s chest.
All this in 0.3 seconds. At 0.31 seconds, the resulting pull on the chain reeled Damien in, through the outer shock wave toward his opponent. Toutatis had barely slowed, but had clamped his eyes shut against the blast of coarse, rough, irritating sand in that all-important moment. Damien planted his other kunai directly between them, all the way down to the back of the blade. Toutatis opened his eyes again, but even as he did so the color was fading out of them.
Toutatis keeled over backward with Damien on top of him and was gone before they hit the ground. The ten souls that flowed into Damien’s soul reserve confirmed his victory. Damien twisted both kunai free and stood over his fallen adversary. Praise Be.
Ding.
A portal had opened in the center of the arena floor. Damien opened his HUD and checked his notifications. In addition to having leveled up for the fifth consecutive time this session and reached level 51, there was even better news. Bartholomew’s quest was finally complete. All that was left was to go through the portal and meet Bartholomew’s master. After he’d gathered himself and collected his spoils, at least.
Damien put his hand on Toutatis’s body and thought ‘Loot’. If he’d got all that incredible gear on the way to this, he could only imagine the reward for completion. He stared at the item that appeared in his HUD and frowned. Only one item with no name, just question marks. Why wasn’t there any information about it?
He put it in his inventory and willed it into his open hand. It was a black gemstone. It appeared to be swallowing the light. It was noticeably darker around his hand. He analyzed the item and was still rebuked. Only a name and a description, both of which were comprised of question mark strings.
Well, so long as he took it with him he’d have time to figure out what it was later. He’d been playing for hours and was ready to put this behind him. He resummoned Noigel first, who arrived on his shoulder and cupped a hand around his own ear, leaning in to Damien’s mouth.
“Nicely done, Noigel. I’m very pleased with your performance.”
Noigel rolled his hand around before putting it back on his ear and leaning in closer. Damien had a look around. The fight had left him with only nine imps and a single succubus. Noigel couldn’t speak properly. Excellent. Damien canceled his next imp summon.
“I’m so glad to have a second-in-command who’d put themselves on the line for me, out of the goodness of their heart. Your loyalty is its own re—”
“Pthbpthbpthbpthbpthb!”
Damien wiped the spittle off his face. He probably deserved that.
“I’m just teasing. Really though, great job back there. Nice use of the knives.”
He shooed Noigel off him, only for Noigel to make a beeline for the surviving succubus. No thank you. Damien wasted no time in ordering everyone through the portal and followed through after them. He could finish up the livestream and go to bed. Huge success! Tomorrow he’d see how Lillian and Aetherius were doing, maybe go help them out since he’d finished—
He stepped into complete darkness. This was disturbing. Damien hadn’t been blinded by darkness since he was made an occultist. He should’ve been able to see something. He turned to look at the portal and found that that was gone as well. Either that or he couldn’t see it. There was no way of orienting himself. He raised his hands to his face and felt his fingers there. He couldn’t even see that close.
He focused on opening his menu, just to check he was still in game. The menu wouldn’t open. Maybe there’d been some kind of glitch when he came through the portal. Great. He’d just finished fighting Toutatis and now he’d glitched out. His HUD had disappeared. There was no sound either. Where were Noigel and the rest of them? If he’d lost his minions to this glitch—
“You’re late.”
Damien’s kunai slipped into his hands. At least now he knew he was still online. While it was better than being stuck in a glitch or a coma, it was still disturbing. Why couldn’t he open his menu? He was trying once again when the voice rang out in his head. The words were threatening but the tone was silvery, self-assured and chiding. Whoever was speaking was close by and could clearly see him.
“Your menu privileges have been revoked. Continue brandishing my weapons and they’ll be revoked also.”
So whoever was talking to him not only knew about the menu, but also that he’d been trying and failing to access it. Damien put his weapons away. He wasn’t in the habit of obeying strangers in the dark. He was very much in the habit of calculating his odds. He had a hunch who this might be.
“Are you Bartholomew’s master?”
“I am the master of all in this world.”
Yup. It was definitely him.
“I can see where Bartholomew gets it from.”
Damien felt hot breath on his face as the air reverberated back and forth over his host’s vocal cords. A carnivorous growling that held nothing in common with the creature’s voice that was being beamed into his head directly.
“A poor comparison. I made Bartholomew everything he is, which amounts to precious little. The finest craftsman cannot mold a masterpiece from inferior clay. If not for me, he would be entirely without worth. The two of you hold that much in common.”
Damien had been squinting, trying to make out anything at all. This introduction was similar to how Bartholomew had made his acquaintance, though that had been considerably more short-lived. It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. When they did, Damien redirected his attention.
“I’d be worthless without your help? I’ve never even met you, let alone been helped by you.”
“Your life was, is and always will be in my hands. Without my blessing, your journey would not have even begun. You’re nothing without me.”
“Back up a bit. Have we met? It’s hard to tell when I can’t see you, but I’m pretty sure we haven’t. I’d remember someone with a throat condition as serious as yours.”
“No, Damien. We have not met. But upon your every impure thought, self-serving deed or careless word, I was there to watch your fall from grace. Time and time again.”
“Ooga-booga to you too, Mr. Mysterious. Really, it’s lovely to meet you. I’ve come a long way to be here, but I’ve been playing for a long time and I’m just about ready to log off. If you’d be so kind as to give me my menu back, we can continue this tomorrow. Maybe you could pay your electricity bill before then, so I can actually see who I’m talking to.”
“The bill comes due, Damien, but not for me. Indulge me. Allow me to show you what you owe.”
There was a sharp rap on his forehead, a flick from a powerful hand. Damien staggered back in the darkness, his eyes closed and his hands stretching out for balance. He had no idea how much damage it had done with no active HUD, only that it hurt.
“Hey! What’s th—”
He opened his eyes and could see, not that what he saw made any sense. He was at the bottom of the Downward Spiral. Bartholo
mew stood ahead, staring upward while the rats cut him a wide berth. Something was wrong with him. It took a moment for Damien to figure out, since this was the version of Bartholomew he was most accustomed to. His master had reverted back to how he had looked when they first met: a ghoulish corpse.
Had something happened while he was away? Why was he here at all? It was as his perspective shifted forward, even while he was stepping back, that Damien understood his situation. This wasn’t his body and he wasn’t in control. He could still feel his own body standing upright, but was looking through the eyes of another.
He was familiar with various gaits and walks, having used Possession on each of his minion types many times over. This movement wasn’t any of theirs. It was as big as an incubus and quieter than a wraith. Big enough to loom over Bartholomew. Quiet enough to arrive at his back without him noticing.
“This is a poor reception, Bartholomew.”
Bartholomew immediately turned and prostrated himself on the floor.
“My lord! You need not have come here, I—”
A cleft hoof, attached to Damien’s perspective, arrived on the back of Bartholomew’s head. It pressed his mouth firmly into the dirt, preventing further speech. The voice emanating from within Damien’s head continued in the same lazy drawl.
“I don’t need to do anything. It is you who must be spurred to action. There’s a man up there who has piqued my interest. He’ll be joining us shortly. You need to make a good first impression.”
The foot was retracted, allowing Bartholomew to continue speaking into the floor. He was shaking. Bartholomew was afraid.
“My lord, I was already bested by him when I was whole, I’m no match for him in my current state. Not even if he’s alone.”
“You mean the mage? Trust you to misinterpret my intentions. No, I came for the one who arrived before him. The fresh meat. He shows promise.”
Bartholomew staggered to his feet, his hands knotting into each other at his waist as he looked anywhere except into the eyes of Damien’s host.
