by Oliver Mayes
At least Lucifer couldn’t see through his eyes. He thought Damien was looking at his own notification. Good to know. Damien kept the smile plastered to his face as he opened the second notification. This one was personal.
You are the Sin of Pride. You have gained a new ability. Check your Skill List.
He did as he was told, scrolling down the list to find what was new. It was in the Demonology tree. As he read it, everything clicked into place:
Embodiment of Sin
Soul energy: 10
Description: You place a hand on your dark mark and speak the name of your Sin, whereupon you are transformed into its Embodiment, the unfettered form of one of the lesser demons in your thrall. Your physical form and attributes will be improved and new combat options will become available upon transformation. The transformation lasts until you are killed or the ability is canceled, which is performed through the same action as activating it.
“Bartholomew mentioned you’re a slow reader. It has long been known your pride lies in your physical abilities, rather than your intellectual ones. Needs must, I suppose.”
Damien reequipped his chest armor and closed his menu, the mark throbbing against the leather with each heartbeat. Hopefully that would fade after a while. Even if it didn’t, it was worth it for this ability. This was why Archimonde looked the way he did. He was also an Embodiment of Sin. This is why Archimonde had tried so hard to keep him from entering the Dark Tower. Damien was all caught up. Now he could go to bed. He turned to his ungracious host.
“I’m quite tired. It’s been lovely meeting you Lucifer, and to see you again, Bart, in these unexpected circumstances. If that takes care of everything, I’m off.”
“We’re not done here, Damien. I’d be remiss to allow your departure before you’ve paid your respects. Before, you were my far-flung underling. I am now your direct and only superior. You will enjoy superiority over all the lesser Sins. Bartholomew included.”
“I’m Bartholomew’s superior?”
If Lucifer had lips, Damien was sure they’d be twisting upward.
“You are. Of course, you fall below me in the hierarchy, so my orders will supersede any you give. Naturally. The hierarchy must be respected. I can perfectly understand why you were reluctant to submit to me before. Oh, yes. Quite understandable. But now I’ve granted you such a high honor, I remain hopeful you can see some sense? I can take the mark away, just as easily as I granted it. Along with everything else.”
He put his head on Damien’s shoulder and embraced him. Damien stood rigidly, with Bartholomew nodding at him fervently and throwing two thumbs way up from behind Lucifer’s back. All Damien could manage was a pair of pats on Lucifer’s shoulder while he tried to conceal how appalled he was with himself. It was enough. Lucifer drew back, holding his shoulders in both hands to look him over.
“Since you’ve proven yourself as Pride, I’ll put this as gently as I can. I have guided you to become an occultist, which has turned out very well for you. I put you against Toutatis at the end of my dungeon, because I knew that would be your heart’s desire. I accepted Bartholomew’s request to consider you for the role of Pride, my highest honor. I subjected you to rigorous testing only to ensure you wouldn’t be a disappointment. I got no pleasure out of it, I assure you. Isn’t that right, Bartholomew?”
“Absolutely, my lord, no pleasure out of it whatsoever.”
“Isn’t that right, Damien?”
“I completely understand.”
Lucifer ruffled his hair, making Damien’s skin crawl.
“Spoken like a true aspect of Pride. I’m afraid, for my benefit, you will have to go against your tendencies to retain your position. You must show at least a little gratitude. Not only for all I’ve granted you, but because your new position makes it a requirement. I believe I made it clear that you must bow.”
Damien at least wanted to see what this transformation would do for him before he ran the threat of his character being wiped. He also wanted to see the practical applications of Lucifer’s assertion of his superiority. At least now he had something of practical worth to show for his visit. This was his victory. That’s what he told himself, not really feeling it, as he bowed.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Well done. Good boy. Anyway, I tire of your presence, I have more important things to do. I believe you have some affairs to deal with before the end of this weekend? I shall summon you here again, after you’ve had time to enjoy your new position. I hope I shall find you more pliable when we next meet. Bartholomew, take Pride back to your dwelling with you.”
Bartholomew snapped his fingers and a new portal opened. He grabbed Damien and wheeled him backward through it, bowing to Lucifer with every step. They passed through it into the Downward Spiral and with a final bow, Bartholomew closed the way through. He immediately turned to Damien and shook him up and down, laughing like a maniac.
“You did it! My own student, the Embodiment of Pride! I might be even more proud than you are! I kid, of course, that’s not possi—”
Damien pulled out of his grip and began the log-out procedure. He spoke to Bartholomew through the ten-second timer.
“Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me. I’ll be back here tomorrow, you can explain yourself then. Bartholomew, Scourge of the World, sending me to the devil without a word of warni—”
The logout ended. Damien was back in his room. Thoroughly annoyed, still not certain he’d made the right choice, he stared into the wall for a long time before he fell asleep. So much for his stable career.
27
The Turn
“What time did you leave the game?”
Damien screwed his eyeballs shut to pump blood into them. It felt as though he’d fallen asleep minutes ago. Cassandra, true to form, had been banging on his door hard enough to make it rattle on the hinges. She’d probably been at it for a while. As soon as he answered, she’d taken one look and sent him straight back to bed. His breakfast arrived on a tray fifteen minutes later, a phenomenon usually reserved for when he was sick.
He was in no state to hide the truth from her. Especially since she knew something was amiss. She’d sat with him and started probing the moment he was sitting upright. It had taken minutes for her to pry the events of that morning from him. Damien kept his eyes averted as he continued playing down the events of that early morning.
“I can’t remember. As soon as it was over I logged out, didn’t look at the time.”
“What’s your best guess?”
“Maybe 1:30?”
“You were unable to log out for over an hour, while some garish version of a mythological evil figure psychologically tortured you.”
“It was much less than an hour, I probably got the time wrong. Most of it was just words, he only started hitting me toward the end and that didn’t bother me. My pain settings were low, and even if they’d been high—”
Cassandra grabbed the back of his wrist and squeezed it.
“First and foremost, Damien Arkwright—”
Damien winced. She only used his second name, his father’s name, when she had something very serious to say.
“Never, ever dismiss pain like that. Yours or anyone else’s. I know how that works. Just because the pain is in your head, doesn’t mean it’s not real. That goes as much for what Lucifer said as for when he hit you. Don’t play down what happened, like you’re trying on me. I expect you to make a full complaint to Kevin, like you did for Lillian. Will you do that?”
Damien nodded, still keeping his attention completely focused on his plate. So much for getting his mom off his back. Cassandra waited until he was looking at her to speak.
“It’s not just a game. This is the first time you’ve had some control over your own circumstances. I approve, for the most part. I hope after what happened to you this morning you don’t mind if I voice my concerns?”
“Is there any way I can stop you?”
“No. But it won’t make any
difference if you don’t listen.”
Damien put the tray to one side and took his mom’s hand in both of his. Cassandra shuffled up the edge of his bed to sit closer to him.
“You already know I’ve been watching you play. I have no idea what’s going on but you’re obviously good at it. They all die, you stay alive, most of the time. That’s the idea, right? That’s not what bothers me. You don’t seem very happy when you’re playing.”
“That’s not true! I love playing Saga!”
“Yes, darling, but you can love something without enjoying it.”
“How does that make any sense?”
Cassandra gave him a wry smile.
“I love working as a kindergarten teacher. I don’t enjoy it very much.”
Damien was bewildered. She’d never said anything like that before.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I teach because I want to help raise kids, to make sure they’re getting everything they need emotionally and morally. It wasn’t always that way, I sort of fell into the job. I started when we left your father because I needed to look after you and work at the same time. Kindergarten teaching was pretty much my only option, other than dancing on a table for money while you stayed in a back room.”
No matter how many times she made variations of this joke, it was embarrassing without fail.
“Mom! Stop it!”
“No darling, I’m only joking, that was never going to happen. I applied to a place but they wouldn’t take me. Heart condition. I might go for a career change, now you’ve got me a new one.”
“MOM!”
Cassandra laughed hard and Damien’s pang of annoyance was quickly replaced with contentment. He’d accomplished this. Not only had he managed to bring things back to normal, he’d improved their situation tenfold. A hundredfold. A thousandfold. More than that. It was immeasurable. The misery Cassandra had been carrying with her for well over a decade was all gone, thanks to his hard work. Now he just had to do whatever it took to keep it away. Cassandra took his attention again and continued where she’d left off.
“I understand how you feel. At least I think I do. I started teaching because I had to. Not the most noble reason for entering this vocation, but there you are. My health meant changing jobs wasn’t wise, but that’s not the only reason I stuck with it: I’m good at it. My children care about me and I care about them. That’s something I can’t say for everyone who enters this career, no matter how well trained they are or how many pieces of paper they have. I feel like I’m making a difference, that what I’m doing is important. I have the chance to change a lot of people’s lives for the better. It’s only for a little while, but it’s a crucial time. If I do really well, the children take a piece of me with them when they go. Is your job like that?”
“If the people I work with take a piece of me when they go, that means I’ve made a mistake.”
Damien thought it was funny, but it went straight over his mother’s head. Maybe. Or perhaps she just was reluctant to give him an easy way out. Either way, she remained silent. Damien filled the void.
“Yeah, I guess some of it’s like that. Don’t know how important it is but it keeps the subscribers entertained. It feels like half of them are waiting for me to fail and the other half would support me no matter what I do. It’s very strange.”
Cassandra gave his hands a squeeze.
“At least you’ve got half your audience in the bag. That’s still a lot of pressure to carry. I used to get anxiety standing up in front of kids to give a thirty-minute lesson! Mind you, they’re better behaved than your audience. I’ve seen the comments section on your videos. Some of your viewers could do with sitting in on my classes.”
“I’ll let them know.”
“I doubt they’d appreciate that.”
Damien perked up a bit more. This conversation was proving much more restful than his sleep had been. He’d been preparing himself for a stoic defense of his streaming career, he hadn’t thought they’d have an open conversation like this. Cassandra was expertly working him. Lulling him into a sense of security before she drove her point home. Every word drew her closer to her goal.
“I got past the anxiety of teaching the lessons pretty quickly. It’s just a question of learning to hold their attention. The only difference between you and me is that I do it with about thirty kids for half an hour a day, whereas you do it with up to a million people at a time for anywhere between fifteen minutes and six hours. No big difference between us, really.”
“Your job still sounds harder than mine.”
“I wish that were true. Still, there’s another area of overlap for us. After I got used to keeping the kids on the right track, I realized the real problem. Looking after the children is easy. They say what they want, they show how they’re feeling, they push boundaries to see what they can and can’t get away with. All very straightforward. Eventually, I get to know them well enough that I can see what will happen long before it occurs. Sometimes they try to catch me out, doing things in devious ways when they think I’m not looking, but they’re not very good at it. I let them think I’m not looking, when I’m waiting to turn at the exact moment they snatch a toy, or spit in their neighbor’s food just to make them cry. They haven’t had enough time to practice, so I get the chance to guide them away from such behaviors. The real problem, and I’m sure you’ll understand me on this, is the adults. The problem with adults, Damien, is they have agendas.”
Damien’s spidey sense was tingling. He didn’t know what it meant.
“Why is that a problem?”
“A child can only think in the short term. Their wants are limited to their immediate futures, somewhere in the next five minutes or less. That makes them easy to predict. I can redirect them before they’ve started their plans, or have my own plan in place before they’ve taken the first step of their own. Sometimes I can even lay ambushes for them, which they run toward headfirst without ever imagining I set it up to teach them an important lesson. Adults hide what they’re feeling. They have hidden agendas, which they’ll do anything to meet. If you block their path, they’ll either force you to walk it with them or they’ll remove you from it. They won’t explain their reasoning, because their reasoning will often be indefensible and they know it. If they do it well enough, you won’t know why. If they’re really clever, you won’t even know who.”
Cassandra’s voice had become increasingly urgent, her hands tightening as she spoke. Damien flexed his fingers and she somewhat relaxed her grip, though her eyes still watered.
“Your job is not easier than mine. There are people who’ve been doing this for longer than you who want you to fail. This streaming career has a good income, but there’s a reason for that. It’s extreme. It’s competitive. And it’s unstable because you’re in other people’s way. You’ve been exposed to a deeply unconducive environment. I’m worried it’s having an effect on your development.”
Too late, Damien realized where this was headed. She was taking the headset away again. She’d created a perfect choke point and he’d unwittingly been led straight down it. He was locked in.
Cassandra sprung her maniacal trap.
“If this goes wrong, I don’t want you to imagine for a moment that it’s your fault. You shouldn’t have to think this way so soon. You’re not a child anymore, but you’re not quite an adult yet, either. That’s why I went back to work early, so if it got too hard you’d know you don’t have to do this any longer than you want to. I’ll be here if you want a sounding board at any time, however things go, but the only person you need to answer to is yourself. I’ll try to make sure you don’t judge yourself too harshly.”
Cassandra leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. Damien sat in stunned silence, feeling as though the rug had been swept from under his feet and then somehow put back again.
“I love you very much. I’m late for work but we can talk about this tonight if you feel like it? Or earlier. Or later.
I promise I won’t bring it up again unless you bring it up first. Is that okay?”
Damien, jaw slightly ajar, nodded slowly.
“Thank you, mom. I love you, too. I promise I’ll do my best.”
“You don’t need to promise me that, I know you will. Your best is more than good enough for me. Love you. Eat your breakfast before it gets any colder.”
She blew him a kiss through the doorway and was gone. The front door to their house shut less than half a minute later, leaving Damien frozen in place. That put things in perspective. At least Cassandra wouldn’t have to wait long. He’d definitely be talking about it with her, very soon. Right after he’d had some time to figure out what to make of it.
Damien picked up the tray and carried it to his work station. He could gaze into his screen, chew on his breakfast and ponder his mother’s words all at the same time. Like multitasking, except he’d be doing all of them inefficiently at once. He jabbed at the screen with one hand as he fished for food and directed it into his face with the other, but hadn’t finished the first mouthful before the front page loaded, taking up the entirety of his attention.
War! Lillian begins conscription to fight Magnitude and the Carlisle-Elite.
Lillian, Camelot’s new ruler. What does she know? Does she know things? Let’s find out! Click here to see her profile.
Round Two! Daemien collects new gear and beats Toutatis at the top of the Dark Tower! Highlights
Carlisle-Elite open recruitment to all Empire heroes over level 40. Goooood morning Frozen Forest!
Do you want to train your very own baby dragon? You do? Well you’re in the WRONG GAME. So says Beastmaster Cubbs in an interview explaining the finer points of his niche class.
Damien had made it to third place on the front page. He could’ve been first, if not for Lillian achieving the ever so slightly more prestigious accomplishment of taking over a whole faction. Hmmph. He was happy for her. Shame Mordred had killed him the first time round, otherwise he might’ve been right at the top. He’d still attained a great deal of visibility for his channel. It didn’t seem as important as it had before his talks with Lucifer and his mom respectively, but it was an accomplishment nonetheless.
