Chapter 43

  The only city in Hell I had set foot in so far was Scaragar. I hadn’t had the luxury of time then for a sightseeing tour, so for all intents and purposes Garoshek was the first proper look I had at a demon city of the Fourth Ring. We followed our guide through the streets, and I did my best to look around as discreetly as I could, absorbing the view. Now that I had a few minutes to consider things and make comparisons, the first thing I noted was the difference in style and quality between the enormous defensive building they called the Lost Pillars — the very place I had crashlanded — and the city. Now, I wasn’t well versed in architecture at all, but I could tell with certainty that the thousand year old pillars and arches hiding the gate to the Fifth Ring had been meticulously carved and ornamented, the stone tiles neat and polished, the arches and vaulted ceilings precise and careful works of talented architects and builders. The city, on the other hand, was not. In stark contrast to the defensive building I’d barely escaped at the time, the walls, houses, pillars and arches here were simpler, almost crude, and much more utilitarian with no room for flair or ornamentation save for horn-like protrusions here and there. I supposed a lot could change in a thousand years, even in Hell, and the cityscape suggested things had changed for the worse here, at least in terms of architecture. I hadn’t had the chance to talk to the “civilian” population of the Fourth Ring yet, on account of the ongoing campaign and being surrounded by generals and captains, and I made a note to myself to seek out and talk to all the different crafters, builders, hunters and whatever other professions existed here in the Ring. I was interested to see what normal, peace-time daily life was like here in Hell, and how the realm functioned. I’d have to learn and deal with it sooner or later. Well, once the minotaur threat was eliminated. Which would undoubtedly take some time.

  Ten minutes of brisk walking took us through a number of similar streets flanked by similarly dark and dull but functional buildings, occasional demon heads popping up in windows or doors, gawking at their human lord marching through their city. I was feeling more and more comfortable showing my face — the absence of challenges and adverse reactions was encouraging.

  ‘We’re nearly there, my lord,’ our nameless guide informed me, and as I looked ahead I saw this was the last street before reaching the city centre, but something was not quite right here. Instead of the lake I’d been told I’d find there, what I saw was an open space after the street ended, and beyond that was … the Wilds? The forest. The monsters. Why? I could even hear a few, muffled shrieks coming from the dark, lava-filled jungle ahead, shrieks I knew were made by Prowling Devourers. What the hell?

  ‘Button, why are they having the Wilds inside the city?’ I muttered quietly.

  [It is common practice to allow and cultivate a small part of the Wilds in cities. It serves as a food and EXP source for the residents.]

  The explanation came, and I wanted to facepalm. Of course. It made perfect sense, I should have figured it out the moment I saw it; food and EXP even if the city was under siege. Maybe it was because Scaragar didn’t have a piece of the Wilds within its walls — probably on account of being on a hilltop plateau.

  Our guide led us through a wide path cutting through the … well, let’s call it “indoor forest”, and after about a hundred metres we finally arrived at a large, empty space with a brilliant, sparkling body of water in the middle, its blue surface reflecting the orange light of the burning sky like a mirror a god had dropped and left on the ground. It was … beautiful. Very unlike the rest of Hell, or what I’d seen of it. And just to ruin the picture, Zeneth the horrible, walking blob of black-hole-level darkness simply walked into the lake as if that was the most natural and normal thing to do. The lake itself was about 60 or 70 metres across by my best guesstimate, and after about six metres only the head of the alleged Fifth Ringer was above water.

  ‘Come in!’ Zeneth called out to me.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘So we can talk. In private.’

  ‘In the water?’

  ‘In the water.’

  What the hell was wrong with this guy? As if I’d go in there, completely out of reach of my squad, so he could drown me in the city’s water supply?

  ‘Forgive my reluctance, but you tried to kill me then tried to have me killed, and now you want me to go for a swim with you? Not going to happen. I can hear you from here just fine, so talk.’

  ‘Come in! Without your armour.’ He insisted.

  ‘Is he bloody serious?’ Burning Darkness’ exasperated voice rung in my head.

  I stared at the basketball sized black blob — his head — sticking out of the water; he didn’t move, I wasn’t even sure in which direction he was looking.

  ‘The time to kill you has passed, the time to talk has come,’ he stated.

  ‘Huh. How nice.’ I remarked, shaking my head. ‘Why are you even in the water? Why do we have to talk in the water?’

  ‘I like water,’ he said.

  ‘That’s it?’ I asked, completely at a loss.

  ‘That’s it,’ he said, nodding his head a little, causing small ripples to spread out around him on the smooth surface of the lake. What a weirdo.

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  ‘Oi, my man, you’re not considering this, are you?’ My sword demanded.

  ‘I don’t think I can find out what he wants otherwise,’ I said to him, sighing, and brought up the menu on my NeuroHUD for releasing the seals, couplers and synthfibers in my SAC. ‘I’ll go in, but not without some insurance.’

  I summoned my trusty sentry turret once again and placed it on the lake shore, brought up its panel and designated Zeneth’s head as a sole, hostile unit to be tracked by the targeting AI at all times, and set the firing to manual so I would be the one to “pull the trigger” if it became necessary. Luckily the ammo drum wasn’t dry yet, and I felt a lot better that a machine that couldn’t be influenced psychically was watching my back.

  ‘You know what this is?’ I asked Zeneth as the gun whirled to point right at him.

  ‘I do,’ he said, his resonating voice holding no concern or worry whatsoever.

  I turned to my squad.

  ‘Guys, keep some distance, and keep an eye on us!’

  They all nodded, spread out, and amidst Burning Darkness’ protestations, I began the process of getting out of my SAC.

  ***

  Hell being Hell, the air was hot as ever, the light breeze blowing making it even hotter, and I had no problem with it on account of my partially demonic nature courtesy of the Genius. It had been some time since I’d been out of my SAC, dressing down to underpants and a t-shirt with the Allied Systems Army emblem on it, and I could finally cast Hades Heal on my aching shoulder, guiding the spell into my collarbone; luckily it wasn’t completely broken, just cracked, and Hell Mana did it’s job repairing the bone and to clean up the bruises.

  ‘Are you sure about this, my man?’ Burning Darkness questioned my judgment, and rightfully so.

  I wasn’t sure. But with the sentry’s targeting AI trained on the dark demon, and the connection to it through my NeuroHUD up and running, I was sure I could kill him before he could kill me or take over my mind or my dreams again.

  ‘Just keep an eye on the fellow,’ I told my sword as I grabbed him with my bare hands, and took my first step into the water. Without the SAC, he felt surprisingly heavy.

  The water was marginally cooler than the air, probably around 38 to 40 degrees Celsius, and I found it rather pleasant as I walked deeper into it with my sword resting on my shoulder. I was neck deep into the water as I arrived next to Zeneth, which made me realise that the taller demon must have been sitting or squatting. Not that it mattered; I was face to face with the dark fellow with a mere two metres between us, the only thing giving me any sense of security the sentry’s targeting panel telling me it was locked on and ready to shoot.

  ‘Alright then, here we are. You wanted to talk, so talk!’ I said to the demon. ‘Water is nice, by the way.’

  ‘Water is always nice.’ The demon agreed.

  Then remained silent. This guy was a pain to talk to, and I decided to wait in silence until he’d become a bit more forthcoming; the water was nice and Reinos didn’t need me for handling the leftover minotaurs, so why not relax a little under the watchful AI of my sentry turret? I spent five minutes enjoying the water before Zeneth spoke again.

  ‘I am Kralsen,’ he said.

  ‘Uhm … you said you were Zeneth,’ I said, raising my eyebrows.

  ‘Yes. I am Zeneth.’

  ‘And you are Kralsen?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How does that work?’ I inquired.

  ‘It works,’ he said.

  ‘How?’

  ‘I am Zeneth. We are Kralsen.’

  ‘We?’ I was losing my patience. Again. ‘Button? Anything to say about this?’ I whispered.

  [The information you request is not available to you at this time.]

  My assistant answered, not at all helpful, so I turned to my sword.

  ‘You recognised this guy. Well, almost. Anything to say?’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure how this works,’ Burning Darkness said. ‘I’ve heard rumours about these mind-types. A long time ago. They might have some sort of hive mind going on, but I’m not sure. Bloody Fifth Ringers; they never do anything the conventional way.’

  ‘You’re a Fifth Ringer,’ I pointed it out to him.

  ‘Doesn’t apply to me. I’m a weapon, not a demon, regardless of where I was made,’ he informed me.

  That aside, was it possible? A hive mind? As far as I knew hive minds didn’t exist, the closest to such a thing being bees or ants. But even those didn’t share a true hive mind. Ah, I could ponder this insanity later; I needed to find out why this Fifth Ring asshole was getting himself involved with me.

  ‘Okay, setting that aside, what the hell do you want? You tried to kill me, now you want to talk, but you’re not saying much. Explain yourself!’ I warned him.

  Another minute of silence, and I was seriously tempted to give the order to the sentry and finish this conversation by way of a bullet to this demon’s head. I was this close to actually doing it when the Zeneth-Kralsen combo decided to afford me the privilege of hearing his voice again.

  ‘The races of the Surface World, the Blessed, have no place in the Rings. Even less so in the Fifth.’ He began, and this time he was going to talk it seemed. ‘Just as the races of the Rings have no place in the Surface World.’ Well, this wasn’t anything new, I had gathered this much by myself. ‘You are not one of the Blessed and you are not of this world and this reality. Yet the Hellguide of the Fourth saw it fit to give you a place.’

  ‘He sure did.’ I nodded, grinning at the demon. ‘Did you learn about this while invading my mind through my dreams?’

  ‘I did,’ he admitted. ‘You possess strong skills to resist, and they grow stronger.’

  ‘Well, got to be prepared, you know, in case someone like you tries his luck,’ I commented.

  ‘The demons who surround you.’

  ‘What of them?’

  ‘They believe you are one of the Blessed. A hero of the Surface World. Yet they accept and follow you. Why?’

  ‘I got a skill for that,’ I said nonchalantly.

  And that reminded me to check what was going on with my Will of the Infernal Tyrant skill. It was … off, or so it seemed, so I wasn’t actually sure if my good luck with Reinos, my army and the city was because of it or not. It was sitting at level 5, just as I had left it, but there might have been more going on there than I knew. Maybe it was leaking. Could a skill leak? Ah, something to check later.

  ‘Listen, Zeneth, or Kralsen, I’ve been patient with you, so just come out and tell me what it is you’re after, alright?’ I said to him.

  ‘The Fifth Ring,’ he said.

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘The Fifth Ring,’ he repeated.

  ‘Okay, I’m not following. You want me to give you the Fifth … oh! Ooooh!’

  I got it. I put two and two together. The Fifth Ring. The Kralsen Hive Mind wanted to go home. Burning Darkness had mentioned they were the thousand year old leftovers from their failed invasion of the Surface World, stuck here in the Fourth — however that had happened — and their idea must have been to get me, the ruling demon lord, to take them through the Lost Pillars all the way to the gate to the Fifth and push them through. If I was right and this was what he wanted, then it made sense for him to seek me out — either to take my title or to get me to help him. In theory I could do it; both the defensive structure and the gate itself were in my purview, the RMS had menus and options regarding those installations. But I had a war going on so this kind of detour was just not possible, even if I had been inclined to help the sneaky, dreamy, murderous demon collective, or whatever the hell they were. Ah, I had questions for this guy. A lot of questions.

  I'll be away until 24th of November, which is next Monday. That's when you can expect the next chapter to come.