Demoness

by Harry Nix

3

  Dappled sunlight. Trees. Soft grass.

  A light breeze across my naked body.

  Wait, what?

  I looked down. Okay, I wasn’t totally naked. I was wearing underwear made out of rags.

  They were rough and itchy and already working their way up my butt.

  “Holy fuck,” I whispered.

  I’ve used immersive systems before. My old company, despite pumping out shitty clone after clone, was constantly buying whatever was on the cutting edge and trying to rip it off. Some of them used images beamed directly into your retina, sound delivered via bone conduction, and had full-body suits that vibrated and even had heating and cooling pads installed.

  No matter how good they were, though, you still knew you were in a suit or a pod. The brain knows the difference between real and fake.

  For a good ten seconds, I stood there listening to the sounds of birds chirping, wondering if Deep Dive Inc had actually built a working teleportation machine.

  This was reality. It had to be.

  I stretched my arms out, but there was no pod to hit them against. My full-body suit was gone. I could hear the sound of my breath, feel my weight on the grass.

  There was no indicator this was a game, not even a heads-up display—

  The moment I thought it, it appeared faintly overlaid on my vision. A line of empty squares across the bottom, which I guessed was an action bar. A miniature image of me wearing my rag underwear.

  When I looked at little me, a window appeared filled with character info. I didn’t get a chance to read it though—it vanished, and that’s when I realized I couldn’t hear the birds anymore.

  “It’s just a game. Stay calm. Just a game,” I whispered to myself.

  I was trying not to freak the hell out, but then I pinched my arm and damn, it hurt like a real pinch.

  Lubochenko! I’d temporarily forgotten about the gang who were always lurking on the edges of any crimes in the city.

  I was locked in some mind-blowing cutting edge technology run by some highly dodgy Russians (I think they were at least) with a list of murders, firebombings, and other crimes as long as your arm.

  “Maybe they’re not the same Lubochenkos. Could be a common name,” I told myself out loud.

  I didn’t get to work more on my Reasons You’re Not Gonna Die hypothesis—a monster came smashing out of the trees with a roar.

  It was an Orc in the classic style. Ten feet tall at least, deep green skin and bulging muscle like a roided out bodybuilder. One blue eye, one green. He had a club in one hand and arrows in the other.

  I went to run, but he threw the arrows at me. The pain was enormous and sharp. I crashed to the ground as status effects flashed up the side of my vision.

  Bleeding! Diseased! Nostrum’s Curse! Knocked Down! Slowed! Paralyzed!

  I was dizzy, and the pain in my chest was deep and very real. I had three arrows stuck in my chest and from the pain of it, in the heart.

  Down in the HUD, I saw a green line vanish down to almost nothing and turn red. It had health above it but no numbers. Whatever I was down to, it was dropping fast. The Orc had taken three-quarters of my life with just one attack.

  “You are forbidden from these lands,” the Orc rumbled.

  I looked over at him. Although he had the face of a brute, his eyes were intelligent.

  “The penalty—SORRY!—is death.”

  Even gasping for air, a sheaf of arrows sticking out of my chest, I could see there was something seriously wrong with the orc. In the middle of talking, his voice changed to a high-pitched squeak, and he screwed his face up. It was like apology Tourettes.

  “Wait! Who are you?” It was getting hard to breathe.

  My health was draining away at an alarming speed, and the edges of my vision were turning red.

  “I am Ark, Defender of Nostrum—AND PICO!—and these are sacred—I’D CLOSE YOUR EYES FOR THIS, AGAIN, SO SORRY—lands. You are forbidden—WE NEED A SEPARATION SPELL IF YOU HAVE ONE—and your penalty is death.”

  He lifted his club, although I’m not sure why he bothered. With bleeding, diseased, and whatever the hell Nostrum’s Curse was, I was done in about ten seconds anyway.

  Before he brought it down, I saw the head of the club was carved with two faces, one on each side. One was clearly Ark, which I guess made the other Pico, the high-pitched interjector.

  I tried to move but couldn’t. I saw a little timer next to the paralyzed status. I still had thirty seconds to go.

  Then down came the club and down I went into the black once more.

  4

  I rolled to the side and crashed into a dirt wall, getting a mouthful.

  Red sparks floated across my vision, and I saw my health line slice down a little. I had to move, had to run from the Orc...

  Except I wasn’t in the forest now.

  I was in a grave, the walls rising up above me.

  My hands went to my chest, but the arrows were gone. I was alive.

  I knew, with absolute certainty, that this was a game, but my brain and body weren’t so convinced. I’d felt the arrows stab me, my lungs gasping for air and getting none, the pain in my body, and the sheer panic.

  The system, game, whatever the hell Ms. Honey wanted to call it was as real as real could be. I was still flooded with adrenaline and not sure whether I was going to throw up or pass out.

  “Fuck!” I shouted out.

  “I haven’t done it in the bottom of a grave before,” a sultry voice said from above.

  I jumped in shock, tripped, and landed on my back, knocking the breath out of me. More red sparks and another tiny slice of health gone.

  Peering over the edge of the grave was a woman who wouldn’t have looked out of place at a supermodel convention (those are things, right?).

  I’d just been killed in cold blood and was still in flight mode but holy hell she was hot... and I guessed from her deep red skin she might have actually been from Hell or whatever this game’s version of that was.

  She had black tresses framing a stunning face. Green eyes, a pert nose, high cheekbones, and full lips. Two curled horns sticking up like cat ears and mind-blowing epic cleavage as she leaned over the edge of the grave. The golden chain around her neck coiled sinuously in the aforementioned cleavage. As she leaned a little further over, the bright red gem on the necklace slipped out to dangle free. Even from way down at the bottom of the grave, I could see there was a tiny flame inside it.

  “Would you say you’re a shower or a grower?” she asked in the same seductive tone Ms. Honey had been using. She looked down my body, and I followed her gaze. My rag underwear was barely hanging on now and leaving very little to the imagination.

  I bolted to my feet and tried to adjust them to cover up more, but they threatened to fall apart entirely. I ended up clapping my hands over my junk.

  “Aww, no fair,” she pouted from above.

  I looked up but then forced myself to look away. That pout... those lips... that voice. She was doing that slow blink thing too, her long eyelashes fluttering. She was wearing rags, but damn she made them look good. She was like a farmer’s daughter and demonic supermodel all rolled into one. She had leaned even further over the edge, showing me wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Seeing her—a demoness, I guess?—had jolted me out of my shock at getting murdered by the Orc. I was nowhere near calm, virtually naked down a hole, but that fear was being replaced by cold determination: I was going to get good, level up, and shove that split personality Orc’s club where the sun don’t shine.

  A faint chime came out of nowhere, and text flashed up, contrasted against the dark grave wall.

  The Only Way Is Up

  Get out of your grave, any way you can.

  There were two buttons under it—accept and decline. Decline was grayed out, I guess so you couldn’t decline your very first quest. I raised my hand and hit accept.

  “Oh, you’re one of those are you?” the demoness said from above.
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  “One of what?”

  Hey, finally I’d found my voice and remembered how to speak. Well done, James. Next, you’ll be walking and talking like a real boy!

  “You can see and touch an invisible world that grants you incredible powers.”

  She mimicked me reaching up to touch the “accept” button. Damn, she was like a living work of art. Her toned arms, deep red, leading down to her delicate hands. She had red nails, a lighter shade, and gold bracelets around each wrist, along with a collection of rings.

  “Are you a warlock, perhaps?”

  The way she was looking at me made me want to shout YES! That’s me! I’m a warlock! I felt like I was a dumb teenager again, willing to agree to anything a hot girl said to me.

  This feeling only got worse when she sat down on the side of the grave, dangling her long red legs over the side.

  My rags weren’t leaving much to the imagination. Hers left almost nothing to it. Those red legs went all the way up. She was barefoot and had a silver anklet on.

  “Are you going to tell me your name?” she asked me. I don’t know how she was doing it, but even a simple question like that had an undercurrent of flirtation in it.

  “James Katz,” I murmured.

  Gold text burst into my vision.

  He Can Talk! He’s a real boy!

  A small cloud of golden sparks drifted up into the air, and I noticed another bar appear on the HUD, labeled Level. I was zero, so far, and that small burst of experience, I guess, had filled maybe five percent of the line.

  A name appeared above my image in the action bar: James Cats.

  “James, King of Cats? Or just Prince of Cats? I do so love a good... pussy.”

  She fixed me with a look that went straight down to my ragged underwear. I clapped my hands over my junk again. It was hard looking at her for the blood not to flow south.

  I struggled to think about those icebergs again.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Little old me? I’m... Lillith.”

  For the first time, I was disappointed. This incredible level of reality, and then the writers went the lazy route and just called her Lillith?

  “Or maybe it’s Hermione. She’s a terrible demoness from your land, right?”

  Oh, I get it. The game was fucking with me, using pop culture references.

  “She’s a witch.”

  “A sexy witch?”

  “Um...”

  How was I going to explain Harry Potter to game demoness?

  “You’ve never seen a sexy Hermione?”

  “Well, I’ve seen some cosplay that was definitely sexy.”

  “What’s cosplay?”

  She was peering at me with those green eyes, and I felt my heart starting to thud. She was intoxicating, whatever her name was.

  “It’s when people dress up and pretend to be their favorite... witch or wizard.”

  “I do like roleplay,” she purred down at me.

  “So you’re not Lillith or Hermione. What is your real name?”

  She clasped her hands to her breasts in mock surprise. “Asking my real name on a first date? I would never... although I’d do other things.”

  I powered through, despite the growing bulge I was hiding under my hands.

  “What should I call you then?”

  She crossed her arms, pushing up that cleavage and then looked down as though she was assessing me.

  “Call me Scarlet. I’d shake your hand, but you seem to be stuck down a grave right now.”

  The quest text briefly flashed up again, this time with words highlighted.

  The Only Way Is Up

  Get out of your grave, any way you can.

  Any way I could, huh? There was no way I could get my hands to the edge from down the bottom, but I could definitely grab on to Scarlet’s foot. That did risk pulling her down with me...

  Maybe my face betrayed my thoughts because she suddenly crossed her legs, pulling them out of my reach. I’d have to try another way.

  “Do you have a rope up there you could lower down to me?”

  “Like this?”

  Scarlet reached behind her and then produced a rope, which she held up. It had been made from rags but looked strong enough.

  “Yes! Lower it down so I can climb out.”

  “Hmm... I could do that, but what’s in it for me?”

  Another chime of a quest:

  Make a Deal with the Demoness

  Convince Scarlet to help you out of your Grave

  As a game-tester, I could see what the developers were doing—throwing a bunch of simple quests at the new gamer to get them to interact with the game world. You’d get experience for walking, talking, putting on your first piece of armor, and so on. There were no numbers listed, but I could dig into that once I got out of here and had a moment.

  I hit accept and smiled up at Scarlet.

  “What do you want?”

  “Well, there is one thing,” she said, glancing down at my cupped hands. “But that will have to wait. I’m trapped in this graveyard, and I need to get out. I’ll save you from your grave if you’ll bond with me and save me from mine. More specifically, I want to go to the tenth realm.”

  “Bond with you?”

  “A simple ritual. A trivial thing really, that means I can follow you wherever you go. Once you leave the graveyard, I can follow.”

  I nodded as though I was considering it. In most games, demons were notorious liars, and I didn’t expect this to be any different. I looked up at Scarlet, wondering how I could see her stats. Again, the moment I thought it, a small box appeared by her head.

  Scarlet, Demoness

  Demonesses are not to be trusted. They will betray you and everyone you care for. They seek only their needs and will use any means to obtain them. They are good in bed though... but you know the old saying: Don’t stick your dick in crazy.

  I gave a double blink at the text. It started off with standard text about demons that I’d seen in various forms before but then took a sharp turn at the end.

  Ms. Honey and then Sasha, the assistant who’d helped me get dressed, had both mentioned this game could give pain and pleasure. Sasha had point-blank told me sex would feel amazing.

  I glanced around the grave I stood in. The walls where sheer and I had nothing down with me to help me climb out. I guess I could spend a few hours trying to dig into the side with my bare hands, but that also risked a cave-in.

  “C’mon, trust me,” Scarlet said, twirling the end of the rope.

  Ah, what the hell. What was the worst that could happen?

  Famous last words.

  5

  I agreed to help Scarlet, and she immediately lowered the rope to pull me out. Although her arms were slender but toned, she was obviously stronger than she looked because it was but the work of a moment to haul me out of the grave.

  I emerged into a large graveyard. Weathered tombstones stretched off into the distance, interspersed with mausoleums and tombs. There were statues everywhere, most headless and worn down. One looked like it used to be a scowling gargoyle, but it was misshapen, like a snowman melting on a warm day.

  A fog lay heavily on the graveyard, shrouding everything in tones of gray. No matter which way I turned, there didn’t appear to be any clear way out.

  “You’re going to need me to lead you out of here, or you’ll end up back down that hole,” Scarlet said.

  I turned to face her, unable to stop myself glancing down her body. She had a long tail that ended in a sharp point. It was slowly moving back and forth like a hypnotic snake.

  “I’m not going to run off without you. I gave you my word, and I keep my promises,” I said.

  Scarlet nodded at me with a look on her face that said I believe it when I see it. Then she gestured to a nearby open mausoleum.

  “In my time here, I’ve gathered some weapons and other useful items. Gear up so we can bond and get the hells out of here,” she said, leading the way.
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  Inside the mausoleum, it was cool and dusty. There was a beam of light streaming in through the stained-glass window installed in the ceiling. It was an odd effect, given the fog outside kept the graveyard in a permanent overcast state. The light shone down on a low stone tomb. Spread atop it was a variety of weapons and clothing. It wasn’t too hard to see what this was—the character class selection area. There was a long sword and shield sitting next to some graveyard rags. Warrior flickered up in my vision. There was a staff and a bow and arrow, Warlock and Archer, respectively.

  There was a pair of small black daggers that had seen better days, and another staff, this one inlaid with carvings showing a variety of faces.

  Rogue and Summoner.

  Okay, five classes, a slight step-up from the usual warrior, wizard, thief combo, but not by much. I wasn’t complaining, though—the reality of this virtual reality would blow any other system out of the water. Just me moving around the mausoleum had stirred up dust, which was now drifting through the beam of light. It was spectacular.

  I looked back over the sets of weapons but already knew what I’d choose.

  For some reason, no matter what game I play, I always tend towards some kind of magic-user. Maybe I just want to throw lightning bolts in real life, and a game is the closest I’ll ever get?

  I picked up the staff with the faces, noticing it was aged and worn.

  Summoner

  Call legendary creatures and demons to your aid! Summoners are also sophisticated magic users and, in some cases, can bring back the dead.

  Accept/decline appeared.

  I didn’t bother reading through the other class descriptions. I hit accept. The moment I did, the rest of the weaponry crumbled away into dust.

  Damn, I was hoping to take it with me and sell it for some coppers.

  I quickly got dressed in the rags that Scarlet collected. I was now wearing a pair of ragged pants and a moth-eaten shirt.

  “Can we go now? I’ve had enough of this goddess forsaken place,” Scarlet said from the doorway.

  “Just give me a minute,” I said. I wanted to check out my character stats and any other bits of information I could find. Maybe there was a chat option to find other people who are currently logged in.