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Commerce Emperor Chapter 25: The Golden Hell
🕑 Added 2023-09-26 07:38:09 +0000 UTCPrevious Chapter
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I faced my predecessor, my shadow, my opposite. She glided towards me on golden wings carried by an invisible wind, her feet never touching the ground. She offered me her marble hand and all the powers in the world with a godly smile.
I answered by throwing my dagger at her servant.
I knew it would most likely fail. The Devil of Greed had enough power to stop the march of time, or at least fool my senses into believing she did, so she could likely stop the projectile in midair. Targeting her directly would probably lead to my death at worst, or nothing at best. For all I knew, the winged woman before me was nothing more than a projection.
But if she was indeed a fallen Merchant from ages past, then she had to obey the same rules I did. Sebastian had summoned her to make a deal like Sforza, Chastel, and their ilk all did before him. If he perished, then it would probably break whatever sorcery compelled the Devil of Greed to appear.
I couldn’t be sure until I tried.
My blade flew across the gilded sky without a sound. It did not whistle nor did it cut through any air. It barely made it halfway to its destination before vanishing into a shower of light. When I blinked in surprise at the sudden flash, I realized it hadn’t left my hand at all.
“A clever attempt, Robin, but a useless one.” If anything, my gesture only amused the Devil of Gre—no, Daltia. She sounded less frightening when I called her by name in my mind. “You cannot harm me here, no more than I can harm you. This ideal space born of our powers will only allow for trades to happen within it.”
I knew better than to believe a master manipulator and slaver of souls, but if she was telling the truth… I took a step towards her, grabbed my rapier, and lunged for the kill. I ran faster than a debtor on the run, yet the gap between us did not close at all. The very fabric of space appeared to lengthen to ensure I would never reach my destination.
Daltia covered her mouth with a hand and stifled her laughter, her servant smirking at me with a bloody grin on his oh-so-punchable face. No violence would happen within this frozen time.
“It seems we are at an impasse,” I noted after finally giving up; for now.
“We are,” Daltia replied with serene composure, her golden gaze glancing at her wounded servant. “Until Sebastian and I conclude our business at least.”
The man was still on the verge of death. Roland had left a big bleeding hole in his shoulder, not to mention the beating my allies had given him earlier. He had burned thirty years of his life or more in his failed attempt to corrupt or kill his ex-lover. If I somehow managed to convince Roland to spare his life, Sebastian would certainly bleed to death in minutes unless given immediate medical attention.
However, Daltia’s clock-shattering feat of magic had granted him more time. Sebastian’s wounds no longer bled, at least for now.
“I thank you for setting up this meeting, my friend,” Daltia said with a soothing voice carrying the song of choirs and trumpets. “How long has it been since I offered to purchase your soul? Four centuries? Three?”
“I’ve lost count, Milady,” the traitor replied. I didn’t miss the weariness and caution in Sebastian’s voice. No matter his pretended allegiance to the Knot of Greed, he clearly showed apprehension at selling his soul to the very Devil he served.
“Better late than never, as they say,” Daltia said lightly before tilting her head back in my direction. “Do you know that he is a grandson of the archmage Apocris? He has quite the noble lineage.”
“Apocris? The sorcerer-tyrant?” I struggled to believe it. Apocris had been an Iremian archmagician and dictator whose cruelties led to the creation of the Erebian League four hundred and a half years ago. His own oppressed people had cut him to ribbons and thrown him into a pit with the heroes’ help. “Seems that seal didn’t work out so well if you’ve been active for so long.”
“My body may have been entombed, but so long as my treasure changed hands I can retain some influence,” Daltia confirmed. “I have been cultivating assets for a very long time.”
What did Sebastian call her? The ‘Golden Strategist’? Somehow I had the feeling she had earned that title for more than making a few deals with foolish men. I wondered how much of the Demon Ancestors’ escape was due to mankind’s loss of faith or just her own influence. Since she was in no hurry to conclude her deal with Sebastian, I assumed she meant to add me to her list of pawns.
This could be an excellent opportunity to gather information… and an equally risky gamble.
Her comment about her body being entombed implied that the figure in front of me was nothing more than a projection, but she could still harm me if I spoke foolishly or agreed to a deal. My power had twisted enough requests that I knew better than to underestimate her, even without the threat of violence on the horizon.
“Sebastian and I go back a long time.” For a Demon Ancestor planning to conquer the world, Daltia appeared rather friendly and talkative; but then again, so had Chastel. “Long before he was called Sebastian. I granted him eternal youth in exchange for his service.”
I should have known the Knot of Greed’s leader and patron would have a transactional relationship rather than a religious one.
“Are you actually stopping time?” I asked the Demon Ancestor, my mind racing for a way out of this bind. “Or is this just an illusion?”
Daltia smiled at me, her teeth more radiant than stars. “What difference does it make?”
“A big one.”
“Not as much as you think, Robin.” Facing her golden gaze felt like letting her peer into my soul. “By now, you should have noticed that our power turns perception into reality. If every Archfrostian man believes that your princely friend owns this country, then he does as far as our classes are concerned.”
I put on a blank face to hide my surprise. I knew perception played a key role in how my power considered the concept of ownership, but I’d assumed that it depended on my class’ perception of it.
Yet here she suggested that popular opinion played a bigger role?
“Whenever your power activates to validate the trade, the world looks like this,” Daltia said as she floated under a golden sky. “A gilded space where all things and concepts are grounded down into wealth and values to be traded. The process simply happens so fast that your mind cannot see it.”
“You began a trade when Sebastian touched your coin,” I guessed. “But we are trapped on the transfer’s threshold until you hammer out the details.”
Daltia confirmed my hypothesis with a sharp nod. “You possess a strange intuition when it comes to your power, Robin,” she flattered me. “You are more in tune with it than most of your predecessors.”
I glared at her without giving up any sensitive information. “How do you know my name?”
“I have been following your progress with great interest since the night the mark selected you. I daresay that I understand you better than the heroes you call friends.” She pointed at my mark. “You and I are walking down the same path after all.”
“Lies. You have wings, so you’re clearly flying ahead.”
“If it is wings that you want, then buy them. You are the Merchant. Your eloquence can bend the world to your will.” Daltia chuckled lightly. “I have a few wings to spare myself.”
“Is that why you’ve come? To sell me feathers?” I mocked her.
“What I want is a moment of your time,” she replied, her tone unwavering. “But we can haggle for a few boons if you want.”
“No deal,” I replied immediately.
“You will not even try a token negotiation?” Daltia’s laughter sounded like coins falling on a pile of treasure. “How un-Merchant of you, Robin.”
“You are an ancient demon infamous for her cunning, with centuries more experience than me and wielding unknown magic I do not yet understand.” I was a daredevil, true, but I knew when to leave the table with my earnings rather than wage a doomed fight. “When the game is rigged, the best play is to sit it out.”
“I will take that as a compliment.” Which it was, in a way. I could not risk underestimating her. “And I applaud your caution. It is not unwarranted in your current situation. You are wiser than most.”
“Thank you,” I replied without any sincerity whatsoever. “My skill at empty flattery lags behind yours though.”
“Give it time, you will catch up to me one day.” I realized that Daltia was the worst kind of demon: the one with a sense of humor. “But truthfully, you do not have a choice whether or not to listen to my plea. I am all too willing to speak to a silent wall.”
“I am no silent wall,” I said. For all I knew, answering ‘suit yourself’ would cause Daltia to transform me into a real wall. If she could seal souls in coins, then her power was nowhere near as constricted as mine. “Say your piece if you want, but I do not consent to anything.”
“Ah, consent. An honest deal’s greatest obstacle. Even I cannot overcome it by force.” Daltia folded her scroll in her hand. “Then let me non-consensually deliver the truth unto you; the great secret of the Seven Great Classes that the Fatebinder is so desperately trying to hide from you.”
Ah, of course. A typical attempt at sowing distrust in my heart. She would likely lie, or maybe not. A half-truth could prove more damaging.
“What if I refuse to listen?” I asked.
“Then you can ignore me until I finish, decide what to do with the information for yourself, and I will tend to my business with Sebastian.” The Devil of Greed smiled at her servant. “Will you allow me a moment to plead my case, my friend?”
Sebastian replied with a crooked smile, a hand on his wound. “I am in no position to deny you, Lady Daltia.”
“No, you most certainly are not,” Daltia conceded with what could pass for pleasantness. She almost sounded concerned for his opinion. Almost. “I swear I will not take too long.”
She’s different from Belgoroth, I thought. I was a people person, but I struggled to grasp the Demon Ancestor’s personality. And infinitely more dangerous.
I had received a vision of the Devil of Greed’s memories when I attempted my first and only soul trade. I had seen through her eyes when she delivered a great speech about ‘refining’ people she considered worthless into golden statues to hoard over. I had felt her bottomless avarice and unbearable arrogance.
Daltia still had plenty of both, as her bombastic decision to appear as the Goddess incarnate and cover the world in gold attested. However, she appeared surprisingly casual and hid her calculating mind under a veil of friendliness. Belgoroth had been hatred incarnate and terribly blunt in his desire to burn Archfrost to the ground. He was bloodstained steel; whereas his colleague was refined, focused, and oozing cunning.
If she had been willing to interrupt an entire battle for the sake of having a brief discussion with me, then it meant this conversation would somehow play a larger role in her plan than the death of thousands.
“Forgive me if I do not expect honesty from you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Unless you would sell me your ability to lie?”
“I have already done that,” Daltia replied with amusement. “More seriously, surely you must have figured out what we so-called Demon Ancestors are by now.”
“You are the first generation.” That was obvious. “Our ancestors.”
“But have you not wondered how it is that I can wear the Merchant’s mark at the same time you do?”
A trick question. Yes, I’d pondered the question and come to a likely conclusion. This might be the opportunity to confirm my hypothesis.
“They’re different sets,” I replied. “Your mark possesses the abilities of the Merchant, the Artisan, and the Alchemist; the combination of which is greater than the sum of its parts. The Goddess split the second set of marks to ensure none of us heroes would accumulate too much power again.”
“You are half-right,” the Demon Ancestor answered with a mischievous smirk. Once again it felt oh so familiar to me, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. “Your generation’s marks are different from ours, and the Seven Great Classes were diluted by the creation of Vassals… but the Goddess did not make them.”
I held my tongue. That was another possibility Colmar and I considered long ago, back when the Snowdrift Blight manifested. We had asked Eris if our marks functioned the same way by harvesting the beliefs of humans.
“Then whom?” I asked.
“The Four Artifacts,” my predecessor replied. “But perhaps it is best that I start this tale from the very beginning.”
Daltia waved her hands. Six silhouettes of golden light appeared at her side, their shapes almost indistinct. I barely identified some key features: an old man in priestly robes; a hooded figure, neither male nor female; a savage woman with a bow…
I recognized one however: the lion-helmeted armor of Belgoroth, the Lord of Wrath.
“Nearly a thousand years past, the Goddess still lived among us humans, guiding and nurturing us,” Daltia explained. “When the time came for her to depart from Pangeal and craft new worlds in the sky, she entrusted mankind with a final gift: seven classes that would embody the ideals to which our race could aspire. She selected seven paragons who had lived up to her expectations, gifted us with our marks, and then tasked us to shepherd her creations to greatness until her return.”
I waved a hand at the frozen battlefield around us; the dreadful result of her and her allies’ machinations. “A job for which you and your cohorts have proven wholly unsuited for.”
Daltia’s smile faltered and her gaze sharpened. “None of this pointless slaughter is my doing, Robin. Am I forcing the thousands of soldiers on each side to battle for this princeling or another?”
“I helped set the stage for this conflict, that is true,” Sebastian rasped. “But Roland, his father and uncle set it on fire themselves like the boars they are.”
“You are still complicit,” I replied, unimpressed. Cortaner had the right to it. I was sick of people making up excuses for their inexcusable behavior. “You would have murdered Roland by stabbing him in the back had I not stopped you.”
“And he would have slain Sebastian out of anger in retaliation,” Daltia said, her cold eyes settling on the petrified statue of gold that used to be Roland. “Even knowing full well that it would be his doom and the end of his own class.”
“He’s not perfect, I will concede that. And so what?” I scoffed. “Is that your excuse for helping Belgoroth set the world on fire? That our Knight is only human?”
“Belgoroth…” Daltia glanced at the Lord of Wrath’s mirage with what could pass for a look of fondness. “He has always been too passionate by half. He thinks mankind is beyond salvation, perhaps not unreasonably, and that we should destroy it all to make way for something new. Personally, I prefer more… constructive methods.”
“I see nothing constructive in this ‘pointless slaughter,’ as you well called it.” Unless… I squinted at the false goddess. “You do not share your teammate’s objective?”
“No, I do not,” Daltia confirmed; and for once, I believed her. “Our interests sometimes converge, but Belgoroth and I wish to build two very different worlds… if build is the appropriate term in my friend’s case.”
Then how did she profit from this war? Did she hope to see us heroes and Belgoroth slaughter one another? Or was her demonic ally meant to distract us from her true underground activities? Maybe she hoped that freeing Belgoroth would empower her by proxy.
“But we have digressed enough,” Daltia said as she returned to her tale. “When the Goddess departed Pangeal, we did our best to fulfill her command. We fought monsters, dealt with Blights, cured the sick, built bridges, and inspired mortals to do better… but for one problem we solved, two more arose.”
Mortals. She spoke of her own kind as if she belonged to another.
“The truth of the matter is that my generation still works to fulfill humanity’s wishes, Robin,” said Daltia. “That these wishes are corrupt and unworthy is another matter entirely. Desire for pain. Desire for gold and immortality. Desire for love, fame, and power. There is something fundamentally broken about this world, Robin. With the human heart itself.”
“What a fantastically novel realization: the world is flawed.” I snorted in disdain. “And I suppose that is when you and your compatriots decided to take it over because you would do a better job?”
She didn’t even deny it. “Someone had to try to show them the way forward, Robin.”
“Well…” I pointed at the petrified men and beastmen fighting to the death around us, their conflict only held back by the paralyzed flow of time. “That turned out great, didn't it?”
“History did not go as I planned,” Daltia conceded, a look of contrition on her face. I didn’t think someone like her could be capable of regrets, but she could certainly fake it. “At first, I experimented with my power and the nature of the human soul to figure out a solution to the unfulfilled desires and torments that plagued mankind.”
Something shifted in the air as she spoke. The golden figures of the Demon Ancestors turned red, their heavenly aura overcome with inner malice. A terrible smirk stretched on Daltia’s marble face.
“But then I uncovered a great and dangerous secret. A piece of information that changed everything.” Her wings fluttered with golden light. “What do you think is the fundamental difference between the Seven Great Classes and their Vassals, Robin?”
I had a pretty good idea. “The former deals with concepts, the latter with the material world.”
“Yes. While what you call Vassal classes work within the bounds of tangible reality, the Merchants and Knights of the world turn the metaphorical and the intangible into reality.” Once again that mischievous look flashed in Daltia’s eyes. “But who decides who owns what, or what constitutes a weapon?”
The first answer that came to mind was ‘our classes’... but the way she worded her question implied a deeper meaning. I reviewed her sentence in my mind, until I noticed a worrying detail.
‘Who’, she said, I realized, not ‘what’.
The Goddess, who was gone from the world? The Four Artifacts she left behind, and who could hardly agree on anything? None of these proposals sounded right, which only left…
“Mankind?” I muttered as the pieces fell into place.
I remembered my discussion with Eris after the Snowdrift Blight formed; how the Arcane Abbey spent much effort stamping out the names of the Demon Ancestors so they wouldn’t passively hoard essence from those who feared and worshiped them, and how they had sealed these fiends by harnessing the power of human belief. This implied that mere awareness and understanding of a concept could affect its essence.
The Blights were proof enough that collective human feelings could change reality. Compounding pain gestated into a womb of darkness and monsters. Powerful enough anger allowed Belgoroth to fuel the birth of a smokeless flame.
“You have reached the truth, Robin,” Daltia congratulated me, her golden eyes flickering. “Our classes are connected to Pangeal’s flow of essence, to the collective consciousness and feelings of all life. Your mark does not determine who owns what. It simply looks at the current consensus and draws its conclusion from it. If most of humanity believes that you own something you purchased with your money, then it is true.”
The terrible implications hit me like cold water. “But that means that if everyone believes that you own the wind or the moon–”
“Then I will as far as my power is concerned.”
I stared at this proud Devil wrapped in a false goddess’ gown. She didn’t dress this way for the sake of impressing one unlucky fool, but all of them. If she convinced enough people that she was a living goddess or demon with dominion over human souls, then her class would eventually make her wish come true.
“The seven of you don’t want to rule the world,” I realized, horrified by the scale of her mad ambition. “You want to reshape it in your own twisted image.”
“Obviously, we encountered resistance.” Daltia waved her hand and new golden silhouettes appeared to face the Demon Ancestors. A cup spilling water; a sword wrapped in wind; a wand bursting fire; and a coin growing tree roots into the earth. “The Four Artifacts, those foolish tools, disagreed with our glorious design. But they could not remove our classes. Only the Goddess Herself could, and she had long departed this world.”
“So they decided to fight fire with fire,” I guessed, a detailed narrative of events forming in my mind. “They improved upon the prototype and erased its flaws.”
“Improved?” Daltia scoffed. “Your generation wields a fraction of our power by design, Robin. The Four Artifacts fractured the seven into twenty-one to dilute their magic and created a twenty-second that would oversee them; the Fatebinder. A living leash that would prevent any generation from rising to the same heights as ours.”
Considering how Daltia and Belgoroth had turned out, I couldn’t truly blame the Four Artifacts for being cautious.
“Many other Merchants before you left notes and observations on their powers; myself included. The Fatebinder has many of them stored away.” Daltia tilted her head to the side like a curious owl staring at mice. “Why do you think she never shared them with you?”
I kept my mouth shut and let her fill in the void. At worst she would gloat, at best she would slip a key piece of information I hadn’t gathered yet.
“The Fatebinder fears you, Robin,” the Devil of Greed said. “She fears what you and your generation can accomplish. That you might rise to rival us and reach the same conclusions that we did. That we shouldn’t preserve this flawed world as it is, but rebuild it as it should be. As we wish it to be.”
“Is this the moment where you ask me to join you?” I had been waiting for that one from the start. “That we can own Pangeal together as Devil and Merchant?”
Daltia slowly raised an eyebrow. “Would you say yes if I offered it?”
“It might be a tempting offer for sure if it came from anyone else,” I replied. I knew better than to accept a demon’s bargain, even a pretty one. “Besides, I do not want to own the world. I just want to move it in the right direction.”
Daltia laughed, the figures she had summoned vanishing out of thin air. “What do you think I am doing right now?”
“Sowing war for your own profit,” I replied, unimpressed. “Buying souls, starting Blights, spreading plagues…”
Sebastian, who hadn’t dared interrupt his mistress’ discussion, let out a mocking laugh. “We cultivate and harness human sins for our purposes, but we do not create them,” he said. “The unworthy masses do.”
“You have witnessed it for yourself in Snowdrift,” Daltia said. “Hundreds of corrupt fools cheering on the death of their kindred in an arena, screaming and betting on the lives of their fellow man. Countless scenes like this one unfold as we speak, most without any demon to whisper in listening ears; as they have repeated since the dawn of life.”
“You certainly aren’t helping people break from that pattern,” I pointed out.
I didn’t buy their excuses. Almost all the problems I’d encountered since leaving Ermeline were related to the Knots and Demon Ancestors in some way. Whether the systemic evils of society empowered them or vice-versa, Pangeal would certainly become a better place without them in it.
Daltia brushed me off. “Belgoroth did not invent war, Robin. War made him. Stained him. So long as humans wish to harm their fellow man, my old friend will indulge them. Even if you put him down and lock him up, he will be at it again in a few centuries.”
“But the world will be free of him for that length of time, and you by the same occasion,” I countered, holding her golden gaze. “I have peered into your memories. I have seen you turn men to gold for no other crime than being considered worthless.”
“Are some lives not worthless?” she replied, sounding genuinely curious.
“Mayhaps,” I agreed. The world would certainly be a better place with fewer Chastels and Sebastians in it. “But it’s not an excuse to own them. People aren’t a group of assets to be used and discarded at will.”
Humans weren’t resources. They were fellow people with resources. Forgetting that key difference was how Daltia ended up with a basement full of golden statues.
“You are a Merchant, Robin,” my predecessor said calmly. “If one person suffers so ten more can be happier later, that is a net gain for the universe. I do not seek mankind’s destruction, only its material prosperity and spiritual elevation.”
“I do not believe you,” I replied bluntly. Even now I was surrounded by evidence of her many crimes. “Your actions do not match your words.”
“Believe what you want.” Daltia let out an all too human shrug. “I will confess to committing a few errors in my youth, but seven centuries is a long time to reflect on oneself. I am not certain you can fully appreciate my design yet… but I hope that you will in due time. Your power can do much more for the world than transferring skills and years around.”
Her tone implied that our discussion was done. She had said her piece.
What was her game? Giving me information she hoped would sow distrust between me and the Fatebinder? Try to tempt me with power in the hope it would corrupt me like her servant attempted to twist Roland’s class?
Daltia had taken quite the risk by delivering key information to me today, if I assumed any of it was accurate. The belief information had the potential to greatly empower my class and thus make me an even more troublesome foe if I decided to oppose her. Why give away so much for seemingly nothing in return?
Whatever her plan was, figuring it out would be a problem for another time. Daltia suddenly lost all interest in me and turned back to Sebastian.
“My servant true, whose heart burns to avenge love’s loss,” the Demon Ancestor said with a singing voice echoing with a thousand false promises. “A contract I offer. Give me thy immortal soul, bearer of power true, and I shall give shape to your wish.”
She floated closer to him and unfurled her golden scroll. Countless names—thousands, perhaps millions—were scribbled as flaming letters on its thin paper. A tiny space was left blank at the bottom, waiting for another fool to join the legion.
Sebastian looked at it with a hint of apprehension. He had lived long enough to know the consequences of selling one’s soul to a demon; after all, he had spent many centuries putting it off.
I sensed my chance and seized it.
“Don’t!” I shouted. Though I could not physically stop Sebastian from signing this agreement, Daltia appeared unable to silence me. “I will make you a better deal!”
While Daltia appeared utterly unperturbed, Sebastian glanced at me in disbelief. “Will you heal my wounds?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yes,” I replied. My power would let me transfer the worst of it to someone else, and it beat fighting yet another demon. “I can assure your safety and medical treatment. You’ll live, even if you don’t deserve it.”
“In a cage,” Sebastian replied, before pointing at Roland with his chin. “If he doesn’t get to me first.”
“I’ll talk him out of it.” Certainly. Hopefully. “And it’ll be better for you than to lose your soul. You wouldn’t have hoarded it for so long if you didn’t know its value.” When Sebastian remained silent, I decided to go for the jugular. “Don’t you want to see Alaire again?”
When Sebastian flinched, I knew I had pounced on his weakness.
“I know you ordered Florence to keep her alive,” I said. “You care for her and want her in your life. It’s not too late for that, but only if you surrender.”
Of course, I knew Alaire would probably want nothing to do with her father… but he didn’t have to know that.
“You bear your mark well, Robin,” Daltia complimented me, her golden pupils flickering with what could pass for fondness. “But you still have much to learn when it comes to human greed. He did not care for his daughter for who she was, but what she represented: an extension of the woman he loved and sought to avenge… a lost treasure that I can return to him.”
Sebastian clenched his jaw in displeasure. His patron’s words had clearly wounded his pride. “I love my daughter.”
“You do,” Daltia replied with an insincere tone. “But if you had to choose between the mother and the daughter, which one would you take? Which one would you sacrifice for the other’s sake?”
Sebastian mulled over her words without answering. In this case, his silence spoke volumes.
“As I thought,” Daltia said. “These are the terms I offer. Forget the daughter, and the mother shall be returned to you.”
Shit.
“She can’t raise the dead, fool!” I argued. I couldn’t be certain, but it sounded likely. “All she can do is turn you into a demon. How will that bring your lost love back?”
My words were wasted the moment they escaped my mouth. I could see it in Sebastian’s gray eyes as they stared back at the contract. He did not trust me, and would rather be damned than be surrendered to Roland’s vengeance. He preferred an empty hope and easy fix over a difficult future.
“I will return her to you,” Daltia insisted to Sebastian, who still hesitated. “I will give you the power to reunite with her and avenge her loss. To fill the hole in your heart. You can take the possibility of being spared, or the certainty of seeing your deepest desire fulfilled.”
Sebastian gathered his breath, hesitated one last time, and then whispered two small words under his breath.
“I consent,” he said softly.
A new name burned onto the contract, written in ancient Erebian, and the golden world trembled. A terrible pulsation akin to a drum echoed across the frozen land, filling the silence with its noise.
I had to cover my eyes as a torrent of blinding light erupted from the sky. I saw a gilded chain surge from the clouds above and strike Sebastian’s chest. The man screamed as the phantasmal link buried itself into his flesh. Within seconds, it had extracted a translucent silhouette from the man’s body; the ghost of a gaunt, wizened old man carrying the weight of centuries.
A soul.
All that was left inside Sebastian’s husk were his sins and desires. His selfish wish refined to its purest form. Its essence erupted like a volcano and stained its container, reshaping the squire’s body into a physical materialization of its inner darkness. His flesh twisted in impossible ways, burying his eyes and mouth under a layer of skin, growing arms and legs…
I had little to learn from witnessing this horrible transformation. Instead, I forced myself to observe the chain as it retreated with its prize into the sky, like a fisherman’s hook having successfully caught its dinner. I squinted and peered at Daltia’s terrible work.
An immense whirlpool of screaming ghosts gathered in the golden sky. Thousands of souls, if not millions of immortal spirits, floated in silent torment, bound by a chain longer than any river. Sebastian was but its latest link. The chain coiled like a snake around the source of the light, a sun so bright I could not see past the glow, but which I could listen to.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
My blood ran cold as I realized it wasn’t a drum’s music I heard, but a heartbeat. A pulse coming straight from the center of this unnatural maelstrom.
Daltia was feeding something with the souls she harvested.
Something alive.
“Until next time, Robin,” Daltia bade me farewell as she floated away into the light. “We will meet again soon.”
The light swallowed me whole and time resumed at once.
The sound of battle erupted all around me, the clash of weapons replacing the beating heart in the sky. Daltia was gone alongside her dreadful whirlpool of souls. But I had returned to a world fraught with danger.
“Out of my way!” I felt a hand grab my shoulder and prepare to shove me aside. Roland. “He cannot be allowed to…”
The furious prince froze in place, as I did.
A grotesque creature stood where Sebastian once writhed in pain.
I knew it was no longer Sebastian himself. I’d seen his soul ripped from his flesh. All that remained were the evils and twisted desires he had left behind. An echo and twisted reflection, which had taken his body for its own and reshaped it into a monster.
Roland faced a shambling mound of white flesh nearly three meters tall, naked and hideous. The horror looked like the result of a mad necromancer’s attempt to stitch a man and a woman’s corpses together: a breast and feminine arm whose shoulder was topped by a malformed head on the left side; a massive arm thicker than a tree’s trunk and mighty muscles on the right. The genitals were missing alongside the face. Only layers upon layers of stitched skin covered the skull.
The monster raised its hands closer as if to examine them in spite of its absence of eyes. If it noticed our presence, it showed no hint of it. Roland recovered quicker than me. He quickly grabbed the broken spear he had tried to murder his squire with and prepared to finish the job, when a great shadow loomed over us.
Baron Dolganov had risen to his feet and raised his head-flail to crush us.
“Roland!” I shouted a warning, but the Knight did not need it. He threw the broken spear with more strength than ten humans combined and aimed straight for the chest. His projectile smashed through the demon’s armored chest and erupted from the other side. Dolganov collapsed back onto the ground, and I quickly stabbed his head-flail with my rapier to make sure he would not rise again. His face let out a final screech as it bled to death on the grassy ground.
The demon’s scream woke his compatriot from its torpor. The monstrous Sebastian tilted its head in our direction, then snapped its fingers. Screaming dust gathered around it like a cloak. He vanished in the blink of an eye, gone with the howling wind.
“No!” Roland snarled in anger. He rushed to the spot Sebastian used to occupy and knelt, his hands searching the ground as if his enemy had somehow dug out of sight. “No, no, no!”
As much as it annoyed me to see Sebastian escape us, we had more urgent matters to deal with. I could feel the foulness in the air, as did the beastmen. The Waterkin croaked madly as they broke lines and rushed back into the river, abandoning the fight with our surprised soldiers.
While Dolganov’s corpse evaporated into a dark red cloud, leaving only a cursed coin behind him, the stench of blood and death in the air only grew stronger. The wind started to carry phantom screams and foul essence seeped out of the land.
A Blight was overtaking the area.
Either the slaughter had reached its peak, or the birth of a new demon gave it the push it needed to manifest. Whatever the case, I already saw its effects. The corpses of our dead stirred in the river as evil possessed them, and screaming faces started to grow out of the earth like mushrooms. We only had minutes left before monsters started to appear.
“Roland, we need to evacuate before the Blight fully manifests!” I argued with the Knight after grabbing Dolganov’s Devil Coin. “Let’s regroup with Marika and seal off the area!”
“Not without Sebastian!” he snarled back at me as he rose, looking around for his treacherous lover. “He cannot have gone far! Search the area and–”
I punched him in the face.
It hurt me more than him, since he wore Soraseo’s helmet, but it did snap him out of his obsession. He stared at me in shock.
“You’ve punched me,” Roland said in disbelief.
“You’re a prince and a Knight!” I snarled at him, unrepentant. The sky was starting to turn red from the blood-soaked essence spreading around us. “Your duty is to protect your own! So go save your men and live up to your titles!”
Roland clenched his fists, and for a brief second I thought he would punch the head off my shoulders in his rage. But my words had reached him. He looked around, at his soldiers, at the ever-increasing signs that disaster loomed upon us.
And he did the right thing.
“Soldiers, gather around me!” Roland shouted. A few of his soldiers appeared surprised to hear their prince’s voice come out of Soraseo’s armor, but his natural authority caused them to quickly fall in line. “I will cut a way forward!”
I had saved Roland from himself this time.
I wasn’t sure I could do it again.
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Next Chapter
Comments
George R
Awesome chapter there was so many plot points this chapter that were so cool
Harrison Russell
My guess is she is trying to make her own artifact. Seeing how all of the coins are being amassed with the fatebinder.
