by Oliver Mayes
“Forgive my asking, Lord, but what value—”
The backhand echoed through the dungeon, knocking Bartholomew back to the ground before he’d even stood completely upright. Damien winced. This was excessive, even directed at Bartholomew. It was all the worse for viewing the attack from the perspective of the aggressor. It felt as though he were the one inflicting this sadistic punishment.
“Do not question me. You didn’t think to question the value I saw in you, though you have long since worn it out. Why do you make it so hard to help you? Do you think you can continue abusing my hospitality without offering anything in return?”
Two massive hands appeared, hauling Bartholomew to his feet by the scruff of his neck before dusting him down, suddenly concerned with the vampire’s well-being.
“There, all better. I’ll give you one more chance, so focus on what you’re supposed to be doing. No, look up! Half-wit. Where would you be without me? You’ll need to put your Sin to good use, he won’t be using the stairs. Oh, here he comes! Look alive, Bartholomew!”
His host’s vision panned upward, in time for the silhouette of a figure to appear against the dull gray light. Whoever it was, they were plummeting through the darkness. They had already passed the third floor when Bartholomew stretched out his hands. One pointed at the falling figure, the other over a solitary rat in the middle of the dungeon floor. A portal appeared at each location instantly and the rat screeched as the figure landed on top of it, circumventing four floors of gravity. Before the rat’s screech had been stifled, Bartholomew snapped his hands closed and the portals snapped out of existence.
As much as he wanted to, Damien could not look away. As if he hadn’t been uncomfortable enough already. He knew the figure who’d just landed on the rat and was lying there, still assuming he was dead. It was him. This was his arrival in the Downward Spiral. A month ago.
He’d always thought he’d survived his fall by luck. He’d never conceived that Bartholomew had had any part in it. A heavy hand stroked Bartholomew’s decrepit head, taking the credit for Damien’s survival.
“Well done, Bartholomew. Perhaps you’re not completely useless after all. Put him through his paces. Don’t make it too easy, we need to ensure he can perform under pressure. You’ve got your first occultist student, all thanks to me! Do not fail.”
Damien’s vision went black. He couldn’t tell if the vision was over until a face swam out of the darkness a few inches in front of him. If you could call it a face. It was little more than a skull. From its head protruded two curled horns and a thick head of golden hair. Damien had known he was hopelessly outmatched for a while now, but seeing was believing. The voice reappeared in his mind, speaking to him the same way Mordred had. The mouth remained still while fetid air rasped out between its clenched teeth.
“Without me, Mr. Arkwright, you’d have been doomed from the start. How conceited, to believe you could survive without my intervention. Bartholomew would’ve let you fall to your death. I thoughtfully came to ensure your survival.”
Damien was distracted by the basic information that had appeared over his host’s head. Not so distracted that he failed to notice the very formal use of his real-world name. He’d been interested to meet Bartholomew’s master. Not anymore.
Lucifer – Level ??? – Archon
“Let’s review your history.”
Lucifer traced a rectangle through the air with his impeccably manicured, razor-sharp fingernails. The outline of a blue-tinged information screen appeared underneath them, within which Damien saw a reversed screenshot of himself followed by row upon row of inverted text. Lucifer scrolled down the list, picking out noteworthy items from it.
“It all started with a brief voice call from Aetherius, who sent you a location marker to the Downward Spiral. Shortly afterward, you left the starting zone with no class and no equipment. How bold. Then came the external call from CU, pertaining to your mother’s condition and your subsequent, imminent placement in foster care. How unspeakably tragic.”
All of this was being delivered in an incredibly flat tone. Lucifer peered around the information screen and his glowing eyes bored into Damien, his mouth still unmoving, as the voice lilted with mild interest.
“How is Cassandra Brades, by the way? I’m assuming her condition improved following my competition victory? I should hope so, given your drive to save her at all costs was in large part why I invested in you.”
Damien was dumbstruck. This thing not only had access to his conversations and phone records, it also understood real-world infrastructure? The devil did not wait long for a response as Damien boggled at him, all thought of witty repartee a thing of the past. The darkness was slowly peeling back as the devil spoke, revealing more of Damien’s unsolicited shadowy backer.
“Very good. I’m so glad everything worked out. All thanks to me, of course. But I digress; you performed passably well as my champion, yet have done little since then to merit my gifts. Already you have begun your descent into obscurity. Once again I find you in front of me, hoping I will make up for your lack.”
Now the aura wasn’t smothering him directly, Damien knew where he’d seen it before. It was the same aura that surrounded the forest marking the edge of Bartholomew’s territory. It had been layered over him like a second skin, preventing him from seeing outside of its confines. The veil was being lifted. Lucifer was becoming more visible all the time.
While Damien appreciated having Lucifer introduced to him gradually, he would’ve preferred the veil not to have been lifted at all. He should’ve aborted after he acquired the final piece of Bartholomew’s gear set. Or maybe after he’d beaten Toutatis. It’s more comfortable not to know some evil exists. At the very least, Mobius could have added a ‘skip’ option to this dramatic, overbearing cutscene. Damien did his best to hurry it along himself.
“Can you get to the point? I know how you types like to talk.”
The devil peered around the information screen a second time. He closed it with a rattling sigh and stepped toward Damien, hands raised.
“The point? The point is you need to understand our relationship if it is to progress any further. You are a vessel for my greatness. I saw your need and set you on the path which would fulfill it. You willingly signed yourself over when you applied your new name to the contract Bartholomew presented as my agent.”
Lucifer placed his clawed hands over Damien’s head, turning it forcefully this way and that. It was all Damien could do not to stab him, although the longer it went on the more he felt like doing so regardless of the outcome. Lucifer was kneading his head. Caressing it. Squeezing it. Allowing his thumbs to venture into Damien’s mouth, pulling back his lips and running his fingers over his teeth. Exploring him, as if he were an interesting ornament.
“You are mine: your life is mine, your body is mine, your mind is mine. Your abilities are mine, your skills are mine, your possessions are mine. Your fans are mine, your goals are mine, your victories are mine.”
Damien pushed the hands away. Lucifer was far stronger. Whenever he resisted, Lucifer would violently twist his head before continuing to pry, his voice continuing in Damien’s head without pause and drowning out all protest. Lucifer pulled him in close, holding him tightly across the chin.
“Your flaws, your failures and your weaknesses are yours, and yours alone.”
He released Damien, leaving him to sputter. While he’d been subjected to this disgusting act, the veil of shadow had stretched far enough to encompass a throne directly behind his abuser. Lucifer took a few steps back and reclined in his seat.
“Once you’ve got that through your head, which is mine minus any delusions you’re harboring without my permission, I’ll let you be on your way.”
He stuck his elbow on the armrest, nestled his head in his hand and contemplated Damien lazily. Damien wanted out. Even without his menu he could attempt to log out verbally. It didn’t seem likely that Lucifer would allow him to do so. Maybe he
could try appeasing him?
“What do you want me to say?”
“Thanking me for all your success would be a good start. A promise to repay me for my favor would be sensible, although that won’t mean much until you act on it. A paltry admission that without me you’re worthless is strongly advised. Material offerings would be a more immediate way of demonstrating your subservience, although arbitrary since everything you own is already mine by default. I’m not sure what you’ll have to do to retain my favor, but I’m very reasonable and open to further suggestions.”
So much for that. Damien would rather die than take any of these options. It didn’t sound like it would make much difference either way. Time to leave.
“I’ll think about it. Nice to meet you. Log out!”
The Logout Sphere enveloped him. The feeling of relief had barely registered when Lucifer rose out of his chair.
“I haven’t given you permission to leave.”
“And yet I’m leaving anyway.”
Lucifer strode in front of him while Damien stared in open defiance. He couldn’t move while logging out, it wasn’t as if there were anything else he could do. At the very last moment, Lucifer jabbed a pointed finger through Damien’s shoulder. The Logout Sphere shattered, along with Damien’s thin veneer of calm. He started yelling, only for Lucifer to drown him out with the voice in his head. Damien couldn’t even hear himself and Lucifer wasn’t listening either.
“I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about this. You’re being very unreasonable. Childish, even. After everything I’ve done for you, I never expected such ingratitude. Here, I tire of your insolence. You can show yourself out.”
He set Damien down on the floor and nodded. A portal opened at Damien’s back. Damien turned to look at it, then back to Lucifer again. Lucifer had folded his arms and was fixing Damien with his permanent, skinless skull grin. It was only as Damien turned and took his first step to freedom that Lucifer’s voice manifested in his head once more.
“However, if you leave without acknowledging me I shall sever all ties. You will no longer be an occultist. Your level and experience will reset to zero. I will reclaim all the possessions you’ve accumulated for me, which you will have no further need of. If you wish to continue abusing my power—”
The devil threw out his arms and spread his huge leathery wings wide, his demand grating through his throat and rippling through the air. It was by far more horrid and visceral than the honeyed voice he’d projected into Damien’s head.
“—bow down and worship me.”
25
Two Sides of the Same Coin
Lillian refreshed Damien’s livestream and received the same message again:
Daemien has entered a private cutscene. The stream will resume when the cutscene is over.
That could only mean one thing. Damien had finished his quest! In her excitement, Lillian voice called him and was greeted halfway through the first ring with a similar message in audio. She’d have to wait a little longer to congratulate him personally. The time on her own self-imposed challenge was about to reset. She’d started, now she had to finish. Even if most of her reasons for starting had since evaporated.
Lillian: Damien’s all done. Our turn. Coming?
Aetherius: I’m already here. No sign of Hammertime. Too bad.
Lillian: On my way.
She logged in and opened her eyes. Andrew, true to his word, was waiting to greet her. The Lady of the Lake was standing to one side of the red carpet, allowing him passage to the throne that he was not willing to take. Upon Lillian’s arrival, the Lady strode into the center of the aisle to block her path. It wasn’t exactly polite, but it was better than being drowned or crushed in gallons of invisible water.
Andrew gave a crisp, disciplined salute, which had the desired effect immediately. Had Lillian cringed any harder her face would’ve cramped off and buried itself in the ground.
“Don’t do that.”
“By your command, Lillian the Im—”
“No, don’t do that either. Come on, we only enforced that garbage when we had a bunch of randoms in the guild.”
“Alright, we’ll save the strict discipline for when we’re on ceremony.”
“We’ve got five people left including ourselves, I don’t think we’ll be worrying about discipline for a while.”
“We might have to, once you clear the quest.”
That was not as encouraging as Andrew thought it would be. Lillian didn’t want to get into it. She didn’t think he’d appreciate her having second thoughts. She deftly moved the conversation elsewhere.
“I’ve still got about two minutes before the next attempt. You said you had an idea. Did you find anything?”
“Of course I did.”
Andrew sent Lillian a link. It went straight to an external web page, a long definition of the word ‘pride’. Lillian was a couple of lines in before she looked up at Andrew without hiding her confusion.
“What does this have to do with anything?”
Andrew gawped at her.
“You remember I said each of the riddles was connected to a primary virtue? I’m still certain this last one relates to humility, which we covered pretty exhaustively over lunch. The opposite of humility is—”
“Pride. Yeah, you said. Sorry I asked.”
That had been a bit terse. Andrew frowned but kept going.
“There was a paragraph in here that caught my attention. The site it came from is maintained by Mobius Enterprises, so with any luck they referenced it when...is everything okay, Lillian? You seem distracted.”
“No, no, everything’s fine. Thank you for this, it should be useful. I’ll give it a quick read before I head in.”
She looked up and gave him a smile, which she hoped looked more real than it felt. Andrew seemed skeptical, but nodded and moved away rather than hanging around to creepily watch her read. That was a relief. More than the opportunity to swot up on the challenge, Lillian needed time to clear her head and figure out what she actually wanted.
One of the lines in the article had enough buzzwords to interrupt her thought processes. She skipped back to read it from the beginning and realized this was the paragraph that had prompted Andrew to share the article.
‘Pride is sometimes viewed as corrupt or as a vice, sometimes as proper or as a virtue. With a negative connotation, pride refers to a foolishly and irrationally corrupt sense of one’s personal value, status or accomplishments, used synonymously with hubris. With a positive connotation, pride refers to a content sense of attachment toward one’s own or another’s choices and actions, or toward a whole group of people, and is a product of praise, independent self-reflection, and a fulfilled feeling of belonging.’
Did that mean she was supposed to avoid all pride in her second interview? Or just the negatives? She thought to ask, then realized it wouldn’t serve any purpose. Andrew was just as much in the dark as she was. He hadn’t set this task, he was just providing literature to inform her own decision.
That was big of him. Then she considered what it said in the paragraph – a content sense of attachment toward one’s own or another’s choices and actions – and could not prevent herself from smirking. He couldn’t very well present her with this information only to ignore it himself. He knew she’d pick up on it and call him out. Smart boy. Classic Andrew. Smug git.
One small problem. Andrew’s respect and what she was reading only made her sense of contentment stronger. Which defeated the purpose of taking on the challenge at all. She wrestled with her feelings for the rest of the article, not a single word of which arrested her so thoroughly as the core of valuable insight in the main paragraph. She was a long way from the end when she knew what she needed to do. Only one parcel of information was missing. A parcel of information only Andrew could provide.
“Hey, I finished it off. Thanks for sending it my way.”
Andrew closed his menu and got to his feet.
; “Damien still hasn’t left that cutscene. I hope he’s not in trouble.”
“This is Damien you’re talking about. If he could handle you, I’m sure he’ll manage whatever he found through the portal.”
“That’s true, but he did have help dealing with me.”
“Oi, leave off. I don’t think I ever said it out loud, but...sorry. We made a hell of a mess, didn’t we?”
“You did the best you could. So did I. Now we get to look back on our mistakes and laugh, a privilege I’m happy to accept.”
Oh? Andrew had become quite the wise mage over the course of their adventure. Lillian didn’t dare say it. She didn’t have the heart to belittle such a pure sentiment, especially since it aligned with her one remaining goal so favorably. Step by step, Andrew was returning to the person she’d fallen in love with. That would have to wait. After a breakup as tumultuous as they’d shared, she’d be doing neither of them any favors by rushing back into it.
Andrew felt the same way, so far as she could tell. He’d been nothing but respectful when they had met up that afternoon and had behaved himself all the way through to the evening, aside from a few carefully measured, slightly misguided plays. They’d talked for hours without straying into sensitive topics. If it was right, it would continue to feel right indefinitely. However, they had a more immediate problem to deal with. A problem Lillian was no longer certain would be best resolved by further conflict.
“Andrew. I’ve got a personal question.”
Andrew got to his feet and did some warm-up stretches, waiting for Lillian to lay into him. When he saw she was serious, the comedic routine ground to a halt. She waited for him to stop bouncing before she laid out her last and most persistent concern. The one that had been eating away at her since Damien first told her who Magnitude really was.
“I know you’re here because you want to help me. I don’t doubt that for a second. I also know you and Richard are...not getting along.”
