Chapter 45

  I was looking at the magically roasted meat on the platter in front of me, the smell of it wafting in the air, filling my nostrils, making my stomach grumble. It wasn’t bad per se, the smell, it was promising a somewhat sour and bitter taste, but nothing so horrible I wouldn’t be able to bear it. My partly demonic nature had adapted my body to every aspect of life in Hell — air, temperature, food — but knowing that the cuts had come from Prowling Devourers and Staring Hunters didn’t help. Those creatures were a stuff of nightmares, at least in my book. But I was hungry and out of ration packs, so I didn’t really have a choice. The rows upon rows of injured demons laid out on the ground weren’t going to heal themselves, and I had to keep my energy up because there seemed to be no end to them. More and more of them were being brought in through the south gate of Garoshek, straight from the field where Reinos was just about finished with the last of the minotaurs. Treating the injured had been my idea of course, and it had met some resistance; concepts like medicine, magical healing or turning the square at the gate into a field hospital must have sounded like foul language to my army — and on that note I was sure “culinary arts” fell into that same category — but once they saw that their weird demon lord could get them back into the fight, most of them had begrudgingly accepted that it was an advantage over the enemy, and as such they couldn’t skip out on it. In retrospect, I wish they had; my IFD was working overtime, I was medic, triage nurse and surgeon all in one, and my limited pool of Hell Mana made the whole process agonisingly slow.

  ‘What’s wrong Boss? Not hungry?’ Grashon inquired, eying the platter greedily while standing guard along with Vik and Sur, just to make sure none of my soldiers or city folks thought this was the best time for issuing challenges or for assassination attempts.

  ‘I am,’ I said, shaking my head at the endless supply of the injured, then at the gate through which demons were bringing them, and at the guards on the walls staring at me on the inside instead of looking out for enemies on the outside.

  I sat down on a stone, picked a slice of meat from the platter resting on another stone, steeled myself, then took a bite.

  ‘I roasted it myself,’ Grash boasted, looking very satisfied with himself as he watched me chewing the meat.

  ‘Hm. Good stuff,’ I said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie.

  While the meat was dry, hard and chewy, the taste wasn’t horrible, it was just a bit sour. As I had expected. I’d had worse; those soups and sauces made from local mushrooms on Oakaluma Prime had been revolting to the point I had thought I was in Hell at the time. Now I could confirm that a real hell complete with demons, had marginally better food than some of the newer colony worlds of the Allied Systems.

  I finished my meal of monster meat, and sacrificed a Crunchymel bar to wash away the taste of it, then lit a cigarette and got back to going from patient to patient, using the IFD scanner to locate a variety of injuries from broken bones to damaged organs, and casting Hades Heal one after another on those whom I judged to be in the most critical conditions. Hours passed, some lives I had managed to save, some I hadn’t, and since I had not slept or rested beyond a quick bath in the lake with my new best buddy Zeneth, I was worried the next time I blinked my eyes would remain closed and I’d fall asleep standing. Ah, the life of a combat medic turned demon lord.

  I heard a commotion at the gate, demons yelling something. I looked that way, but I could hardly see anything with my bleary eyes, all the moving shapes around me hazy as if I was seeing them in a dream. I really needed to get some rest; twelve hours of sleep would do nicely, but it was anyone’s guess when I’d have the chance for that. If my demon soldiers could keep going, all battered and exhausted, so could I. I had to. I barely recognised the figures beelining to me from the gate — one larger demon carrying a slightly smaller and thinner one in his arms — only when they were right in front of me and after some serious blinking, I realised who they were.

  ‘Zag! Iska!’ I exhaled the words as Zagrathar laid Iskaret down on the ground before me.

  ‘She’s injured,’ Zag stated without any preambles and with hardly any emotion in his voice.

  I looked down at her, took a deep breath, pulled every scrap of energy I had left and knelt beside the demon woman to examine her. Gurgling and barely breathing, bleeding from multiple wounds on her arms and torso, her legs torn to shreds; I was not at all sure how she was still alive, but if I wanted to keep it that way, I had to work fast. I put the IDF scanner on her chest, initiating the procedure on the NeuroHUD control panel, and read the results as they were coming. Multiple points of internal bleeding, broken ribs and ruptured lungs were the bad news, the intact spine and her heart still beating were the good news, and that was without having scanned her limbs, which were in a horrible state. I had enough Hell Mana for two casts of Hades Heal, and after a second round of scans I concluded the internal bleeding and the ruptured lungs filling up with blood were the immediate threats to her life. Half a day ago I wouldn’t have been optimistic about two casts of the spell doing the job, but half a day ago Hades Heal had been at level 4. After treating more than a hundred demons with any and all injuries imaginable, the skill had climbed to level 8, and the difference was more than just noticeable. I cast the spell, the red and black mana-mist sinking into Iska’s chest and following my mental guidance to target the most crucial areas. I confirmed the results with the IFD scanner then cast a second time, finalizing the repairs to her blood vessels, and magically draining her repaired lung of fluids. She should be out of the woods now and last long enough for my Hell Mana pool to refill. I was willing to do another two casts on her to start her arms and legs on the road to recovery, but she wasn’t the only one who needed life-saving intervention, and I couldn’t play favourites no matter how much I wanted to.

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  ‘She’ll live. I’ll try and fix her limbs when I replenish my mana,’ I said to Zag.

  ‘Very good, my Lord. She’s a good scout. Would have been a waste to let her die,’ he said, still not showing any emotions beyond a little bit of relief, coming from a place of strict professionalism. Or that’s what he wanted it to look like — I knew he was worried sick about the woman. ‘We spotted the minotaur general first, but we were too close to their camp. We barely got away. Then we got tangled up with minotaurs from another camp.

  ‘It was you two?’ I shouldn’t have been surprised; they were the two highest level scouts around here. Well, captains now. ‘You’ll be happy to know the bastard’s dead.’

  ‘I heard. Must have been quite the duel,’ he said, finally showing some emotion, grinning ear to ear, his sharp teeth all on display.

  ‘Eh, could have gone better, but I managed,’ I said.

  ‘The Blessed cannot be underestimated after all,’ he mused. ‘Even if they’re smaller.’

  ‘Oh? Have you been underestimating me?’ I asked, somehow finding the energy to stand up and to grin at him behind the visor of my helmet.

  Zag suddenly became very busy checking his curved daggers at his hip and fiddling with the leather armour he wore under his robes, looking anywhere but at me.

  ‘Don’t worry, Zag, you don’t have to answer,’ I said to him, and he was back to normal.

  One of these days I’d have to ask someone to tell me some of the stories circulating about the Blessed and the so-called heroes of the Surface World; these demons, even a Fifth Ringer like Zeneth, were wary of them, me, and I seemed to be the only one out of the loop when it came to this topic. But I was too tired for going around asking for stories. I was too tired for anything, but the casualties were still coming in, waiting to be treated by the sole person capable of it. I led my eyes over the dozens of demons still waiting for my attention, bloodied and broken, but having done their part in the campaign. I sighed; the old saying “War is Hell” had an entirely new depth of meaning in this place, didn’t it?

  ***

  My soul almost had enough mana to cast another Hades Heal, only 3 HMP to 37, and I was doing my best not to collapse in front of Zag, Vik, Sur and Grash, not to mention the rest of the demons watching me from the walls and the gate, and even if the still unconscious Iska wouldn’t see it, the others would surely tell her the story of a demon lord dropping dead next to her due to exhaustion. One of these days I’d have to start leveling up my own body, not only to add some points to my Soulstrength stat to increase storage and HMP collection rate, but hopefully to better equip me to endure days of planning, marching, intense combat and treating injured demons without so much as a blink’s worth of sleep. Seriously, I had no idea how the demons were doing it; they marched and fought with me on just as much if not less sleep, and none of them looked nearly as tired as I was. Well, I knew, actually; they were demons, I was human. That simple.

  Another commotion at the gate reminded me I was still here and awake, and this time whatever was happening there attracted the cheers and cries of hundreds of demons all around. Then I saw the procession coming through the gate — I had wondered why Reinos hadn’t informed me through the RMS that he was done with his work and coming back to the city. He was marching straight to me with his captains right behind him. I thought it to be the polite and respectful thing to greet him without my helmet obscuring my face — hopefully he wouldn’t take issue with the bags under my bloodshot eyes — so I took it off and waited for him, knowing full well everyone would see me. And they did. As the tall demon arrived to stand in front of me, I could feel he had gained some levels, two perhaps, taking him from 35 to 37 — he had definitely not shied away from the action.

  ‘The Vengeful Flame returns,’ I said, almost yawning. ‘I take it the battle is done?’

  ‘It is,’ he said. He looked around, observing all the injured laid out on the ground, most of them in stable condition, then the demonic faces around us waiting in silence to see what was going to happen between the lord and the general. ‘Along with their general, the enemy lost their strengthening auras and cohesion. The camps couldn’t coordinate any more. I called in Detachment Alpha and the reserves, broke out of Camp One, and one by one we overrun all the camps around the city. Some camps fled altogether instead of fighting. We didn’t pursue; we kept going after the camps. Now, the city is ours, and not a single Third Ringer is alive in the vicinity.’

  ‘Good work, general.’ I nodded. ‘Our losses?’

  ‘Out of the 6820 I recruited, 4789 remain alive.’ He looked at the injured demons all around us on the ground. ‘Some won’t be able to fight for a while.

  ‘Leave that with me, general. I’ll get as many as I can back into fighting shape. No waste if I can help it.’

  He considered my words for a few moments, just as I was considering the losses, the overall situation, and my general himself.

  ‘I admit, my Lord, I didn’t know what you were when we first met and I had my doubts. Then, when I learned what you are, I had my doubts again,’ he said, looking me in the eyes.

  ‘Of course you did,’ I said to him.

  ‘Tarashak the Smoldering Storm was right; the Fourth Ring has a chance against the invaders,’ he stated. ‘You tricked the minotaur King to go where you wanted him to go, killed the enemy general and led us to victory here at Garoshek.’

  ‘That I did,’ I agreed with his assessment.

  ‘What is our next move, my Lord?’

  ‘We rest, recover and organise here. For two, maybe three days. Our next objective is the city of Orroth, and Riaret the Severing Strike.’ I informed him. ‘I’m expecting to receive word about her situation soon. When we’re ready, we’ll march.’

  Reinos nodded.

  ‘I am looking forward to the death of every last Third Ringer and our final victory, my Lord, under your command.’

  ‘And you shall have it, Reinos, you shall have it,’ I said to him, smiling. ‘Do you know what a handshake is?’

  ‘No, my Lord.’

  ‘Where I come from, it’s a sign of agreement and trust,’ I explained as I reached out to offer him my hand.

  He looked at it for a moment, probably a bit confused, but then he figured it out. He had to bend down a little to clasp my hand in his, but then, in front of all the gathered demons, soldiers and townsfolk alike, General Reinos and I shook hands.