by Oliver Mayes
“It must be a shock, realizing none of your success ever belonged to you. You’ll have to get over it if you want our relationship to work.”
Damien knew how important his character was to his new career. No one was coming to watch him. Not really. They were coming to see the occultist who’d won the competition. If his account was purged, he did not predict his viewers all transferring over to watch him start from scratch. Worse, he wouldn’t be able to play an occultist again. If this was what awaited him, what would be the point?
“I have to say, you’re the only person who’s reacted like this to being told the truth. You’re oversensitive.”
Damien’s thoughts were not on how to escape from this. That was easy. He could suck all this up, smile and nod, bow his way out and leave intact. He knew that. It would be so easy, so logical. He still had Magnitude and Archimonde to deal with. He might be able to go help Lillian and Andrew with their quest. It was the only sensible option, and rather than having to search for it he’d had it laid out in plain view. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d rather die.
Magnitude and Archimonde represented significant threats, but this was a far worse problem. The two of them threatened to make the game unplayable for him if they weren’t stopped. As his only path of progression, Lucifer made the game unplayable for him right now.
“You’re the one who’s forcing me to treat you like this. I’m not enjoying it any more than y—”
Damien spoke up for the first time since the portal had appeared.
“You can view private messages? That’s a bit of an infringement on my rights, don’t you think?”
“For hell’s sake, now the boy’s interrupting me.”
It was projected into his head, just like everything else, but delivered as if it were an aside. Something Damien was not supposed to hear. It was almost comical, having a stage whisper beamed into his mind. Lucifer did not acknowledge the contradiction. He paced over to Damien, who raised his hands defensively and pointlessly. Lucifer stopped just short, placing his hands on his knees and stooping to Damien’s level. As if he were addressing a toddler.
“Didn’t your mother teach you to respect your elders? Am I to take it polite conversation does not form part of her curriculum? Or perhaps your bottomless entitlement indicates she’s raised you poorly and isn’t very good at her job?”
Damien had managed to control himself for a while. He’d avoided losing his temper at each and every one of Lucifer’s unwanted intrusions. It was only an AI. What it thought didn’t matter. What it said didn’t matter. But even as Damien told himself this, he didn’t believe it. This was the last straw. He may as well get an answer to his question before he headed on his way.
“I asked if—”
“Look at you! One mention of your mother is all it takes to turn you into a dribbling mess! You were even worse while she was in the hospital. You can barely do anything right without her holding your hand!”
The devil drew his enormous fists up to his burning eyes, twisting them violently in the angriest mime of mocking grief Damien had ever seen.
“My mahmee’s in the ho-pi-tle. I’m shad, and angwee, and confustered, all at the saaaame time! I can’t even get a Cowuption spell wight, and punching walls is my onwy way of conveying my emotions, because I wack the intelligence to expwess my feewings wike a normal person! Booo-hooo!”
Damien had obviously struck a nerve. Lucifer’s rant had no end in sight. He’d stood up straight to cast his arms over Damien’s head, the threat of violence kept in plain view without ever quite being fulfilled.
“I all but gave up on you after that introduction. The driving force I thought gave you a modicum of worth resulted in all kinds of idiotic mistakes. You were painful to look at. You indicated you were eighteen or over, but you behaved more like you were twelve, or younger. When your mother needed you most! What’s wrong with you?”
If Damien had understood correctly, he was being judged as immature for not performing at 100% after his mom had nearly died in front of him. Lucifer’s knowledge of these affairs was exactly what Damien had asked about, but Lucifer was paradoxically covering up the question by relentlessly attacking his character, using the very fact Damien had leveled against him as ammunition. If Lucifer saw the irony of what he was doing, he didn’t make it known. If anything he was somehow inverting logic and passing it off as reason, redoubling his new unpleasantness to mask previous unpleasantness.
“You barely managed to scrape through, even though I thrust greatness upon you. All I ask is you show some respect, but you can’t even manage that. You’re an even bigger failure than Bartholomew. A laughable achievement, but the only one you’ve managed of your own accord.”
Lucifer stopped ranting and gave a haughty nod. Asking more questions would only prompt similar non-answers. This was unsustainable. The only option Damien had left was to sever all ties. First, he’d feed Lucifer every single word and make him eat it. He had nothing to lose at that point anyway, except his temper. Damien could at the very least keep that.
“One thing my mother taught me: when a spoilt brat is having a tantrum, you let them tire themselves out first. If you’re all tuckered out, it’s my turn. I’m going to tell everyone you can access private messages.”
Lucifer plucked up Damien by his throat. Damien didn’t resist. He just smirked as his breathing became strained. He couldn’t see his hit points, but they had to be dropping. In the real world, his apathy would be unfathomable. It didn’t matter here. Not only because there was no actual threat of physical harm, but because Damien had decided to abandon his class.
If Lucifer killed him, Damien would be beyond his control. The same would happen if Damien left through the portal. Now it was only a question of which came first. Damien’s victory was guaranteed. He didn’t get guaranteed victories very often. Never, actually. He’d take his time enjoying this one.
Lucifer loosened his grip enough for Damien to breathe. He knew what Damien knew. He changed tactic, pulling Damien in close so his breath could rasp over Damien’s face while he implanted new words in his mind.
“Go ahead. Tell anyone you like. I’ll send out my own message, perfectly neutral, to counterbalance it. I might go with this one.”
The words popped into Damien’s field of vision of their own accord, the only trace of his long-absent HUD. They were not neutral.
We regret to inform our loyal player base that player ‘Daemien’ has knowingly abused a glitch in the occultist class without informing Mobius Enterprises. Saga Online does not tolerate cheating in any form, especially from a Mobius Enterprises employee. To serve as a warning, he has been stripped of his account.
Damien was still reading the words as Lucifer drawled over his thoughts.
“Yes, that should do nicely. When you start complaining, everyone will see you for the petulant, embryonic smear you are. No one will believe you.”
He set Damien back down and dusted off his shoulders more forcefully than was needed, even if there’d been anything to brush away. He seemed confident the imbalance had been addressed.
“If you’re done with your cute display of defiance, you can bow to me now.”
The imbalance had become significantly more pronounced.
“Why? That doesn’t change anything.”
“Is that so? Your career ended, your legacy tarnished, all the progress I allowed you to make, lost. I have been a valuable, long-unappreciated ally. I’ve always been on your side. You do not want me as an enemy. Bow.”
“No, I don’t think I will. There’s literally nothing you can do that will make me bow. I’m leaving. When you next see me, I’ll be killing you. Goodbye.”
He turned to walk through the portal and made it only a few steps before Lucifer blocked his path. Damien laughed at him as he threw Lucifer’s words back in his terrifying face. All the threat was gone from it now he’d resolved to leave.
“What’s wrong with you? You put this c
hoice in front of me, so certain I’d do what you wanted. Now you’re stopping me because my choice isn’t to your liking?”
“I’m only trying to prevent you from making a mistake. Perhaps you don’t believe these things will happen, but I assure you they will. You’ll regret this.”
Damien folded his arms and tilted his head, looking at Lucifer sideways.
“You’re the one who’s made a mistake. I don’t “need” to play the game any more. I sorted my mom out, almost entirely on my own. No, wait, that’s not true. I got a lot of help, but not from you. Bartholomew’s “dark offering” to become an occultist doesn’t count, because he threatened to eat me if I didn’t accept. Pretty much the same method you’re using. You said the two of you aren’t similar. You’re right: you’re almost exactly the same.”
Lucifer struck him across the face, sending Damien tumbling across the sand. Hmm. Yes. The floor was made out of sand over here, too. Whatever. His pain settings were as low as they could be. He’d have endured this at any pain threshold, or so he’d like to think. Damien continued talking from the floor without bothering to get up. Getting up would imply that’s the state he’d prefer to be in when it really wasn’t very important.
“I didn’t have to become an occultist. I could’ve invested my efforts into saving my mom any number of ways, both in and outside of Saga Online. Occultism was the first option that came along I could work with. You were just lucky to pick me up early. Besides, you didn’t draft me as an occultist to help me. You needed to draw attention to your undersubscribed class. Now you’re framing it as though you did me a favor, when it is I who did you the favor. Don’t be shy. You can say ‘Thank you, Damien’. Maybe give me a little bow to show your grati—”
Lucifer picked him up by the top of his head and held him there.
“I can make this very unpleasant for you. I won’t grant you the sweet release of death. I’ll hold you here and make you suffer. That’s my job. Unlike you or your dear meemaw, I’m highly proficient at it.”
Could Lucifer do that? Not really. He could stop him from logging out directly with damage perhaps, but Damien could still die. Hopefully. It didn’t make any difference either way. He’d already decided.
“You can’t keep me here forever. You know that. This is only a matter of time. The longer you make it for me, the worse I’ll eventually make it for you. I guarantee it.”
“With no class, at level 1, no fanbase, no income for playing and no reason to continue? Forgive me for not shaking in my cloven hooves.”
“I won’t be playing professionally anymore, but I’ll manage it in my free time. One day, someone will show up here. Could be anyone. You won’t recognize them, because I’ll change my face and keep my communications limited. I’ll kill you and I’ll make sure you know it was me before you go. You’ll have that to look forward to for the rest of your short life, because of what you’re about to do to me now. Have fun, while you can.”
Damien wasn’t looking forward to this, but at least he’d already secured his victory. Now he’d just have to pay back the debt. This was gonna suck. At least he’d already ensured he’d win. All that was left was to accept the consequences of his actions.
Lucifer raised his hand, claws bared, and Damien squeezed his eyes shut. He’d dealt with worse than this. The pain would be simulated. He wouldn’t actually be harmed. That would be the first point he clung to, as the pain wore on. He’d not stand up to torture, but since he’d already removed the option of bowing his way out that didn’t matter. He’d just have to endure as best he could and wait for an opportunity to end this encounter prematurely. He was still wincing in advance of the pain when Lucifer’s voice blared into his skull.
“Your judgment has proven accurate, Bartholomew. He’s insufferably arrogant. I’m most pleased.”
“I did insist he was a worthy candidate, my lord.”
Damien opened his eyes to find Bartholomew standing by Lucifer’s side. Lucifer released his grip, allowing Damien to drop to the floor. Lucifer inclined his head, ever so slightly, and Damien’s HUD was restored. Then he turned away, wiping his hand down on Bartholomew’s robe.
“Had you put him forward for the role of Wrath, this would’ve been considerably simpler.”
“That is true, my lord, but that position is taken. I felt you’d be more inclined to fill an empty seat. I also felt aiming for anything less than the top spot would not accommodate his full potential. I was confident Daemien would make the grade, given his past behavior and my interactions with him.”
A quick check of Damien’s long-lost HUD showed his live recording had automatically been stopped. None of this had been visible to anyone outside of this room. He didn’t know whether to be relieved that his experience hadn’t been shared, or perturbed that no one would believe him if he relayed it to them.
Damien had gone from being the object of Lucifer’s unwanted attention to being completely ignored. They were talking about him as if he weren’t in earshot, as if he simply did not exist. This was somehow worse than torture. He pulled himself to his feet while Lucifer continued chatting with Damien’s former master.
“My doubts were valid, Bartholomew. It took a great deal of exacerbation to elicit the required—”
“Hi guys! I’m still here! Can someone explain—”
Lucifer raised a hand and placed the palm over Damien’s face.
“Quiet, whelp. Grown-ups are talking. We’ll let you know when you’re allowed to speak.”
Damien stepped back. Nah. He’d had it up to here. No more games.
“No thanks. Enjoy your chat.”
He drew a kunai and turned its point toward his own chest, holding it in both hands. His health was still low from the ground slam. He was leaving.
“Damien, you passed!”
Bartholomew had blurted it out, the concern in his voice undeniable. Damien kept the kunai held over his chest. At least now he wasn’t being ignored.
“He’s just demanding attention, Bartholomew. Don’t give it to him. It will only encourage him.”
Bartholomew prostrated himself before Lucifer, clutching at his hooves and kissing them. Doing what his former pupil could not.
“My lord, please. You’ve already demonstrated his Sin. Pushing him further will only undo your expert work in drawing it out of him. I will take responsibility for his disrespect, since I was his teacher.”
“Your former master knows his place, Damien. Perhaps you left his charge early. Fine. You shall have the attention you so desperately crave.”
He held his hand out.
“Give me the item Toutatis dropped. I shall fashion it into a unique piece that reflects your…tendencies. Or just kill yourself. There are thousands like you I can turn to. I’m not fussed.”
Nothing to lose, Damien supposed. He kept the kunai over his heart as he placed the black gem into Lucifer’s outstretched palm. Lucifer cupped it in both hands.
“Bartholomew is familiar with this power. I loaned it to him in his battles against Aetherius. It was unstable, unrooted, he could only sustain it for a few minutes. Not least of all because he already harbors his own true Sin, which he refuses to use to its fullest extent. For you, it will be a perfect match.”
Lucifer’s hands were radiating immense heat. His fingers were glowing, the bones visible through his incandescent flesh. Damien could see the shape of the gem in the middle of them. It was becoming a pentagram.
“Remove your tunic, Damien. I will embed my Sin into you directly.”
“You want me to strip?”
“I’ve seen it all before, Damien, your body is nothing special. I require access to your chest. In this instance, removing your tunic will suffice.”
Damien looked to Bartholomew, who was cowering on the floor a few feet away. Bartholomew nodded, feverishly. Not exactly the best endorsement for having hands laid upon him by Satan. Part of Damien wanted to see where this led. If he was prepared to submit to potential hours of to
rture, this was a very short leap.
Damien removed his chest armor and put his weapons away. Worst-case scenario, he’d reject all this and go back to being tortured. There was no harm in checking this path before he reconsigned himself to the more difficult and less rewarding one. Lucifer grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled his other arm back, the pentagram glowing in his hand.
“This will hurt. It’s for your own good.”
He thrust his palm over Damien’s heart and pressed the burning symbol into his flesh. The only thing worse than the pain was the smell. Lucifer held it there as Damien gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying out. The prospect of enduring a few hours of this seemed quite silly, all of a sudden. The procedure had an absurdly efficient pain-to-damage ratio.
It took a whole five seconds, after which Lucifer released his grip and admired his handiwork. Damien looked down and found his body had been marked. It was a tattoo that was not a tattoo. It was hard, and heavy. He tapped it and it clinked to the touch, then pulsed painfully.
“Go on, take a look. Maybe you’ll finally realize how favored you are.”
Damien was in his menu in seconds, where two very peculiar notifications awaited his inspection. The first was flashing gold. The other was a deep shade of purple. He opened the gold one first.
Lillian has been judged worthy. Excalibur has consented to being guided by her hand. By divine right, she is hereby ordained Queen of Camelot. The Empire is hers to command.
She did it. Damien forgot where he was, everything he’d been through, and smiled. Lillian. Queen of Camelot. A reckoning was coming. If he’d got a notification, so had everyone else. Somewhere, out there, beneath the pale moonlight, Magnitude was thinking of her, and screaming into his pillow tonight.
“Is that all you can manage? A smile? For the greatest gift I can bestow?”
