Chapter 35

  Five minutes passed, and … nothing. The beast-demons at the three camps were still gathering their numbers — which were becoming considerable — but not making a move. Five minutes of waiting meant five minutes of Detachment Alpha going at fortified positions on the far side of Garoshek. I hoped they were not spending their lives carelessly. But what if it became ten minutes? Or fifteen? Or an hour? Had my diversion not worked? Or had the fierce demonic minotaurs been so shocked by the sentry turret’s brutal efficiency as to suddenly cower in fear? They should have chalked it up to some new, Fourth Ring fire magic or something or another, which shouldn’t have been all that surprising to them. This was Hell after all, magic was everywhere, and they were gods-damned demons.

  [My Lord? We are still waiting for your order.]

  Reinos reminded me through the RMS, his message making me sweat under my helmet — even though it was just text displayed on my NeuroHUD, I could feel the frustration and nervousness behind it, mirroring my own. I needed to speed things up before the diversionary force was spent without giving Reinos his chance to bulldoze the enemy camps on this side. And whose job was it to give him that chance? Mine. Failing wasn’t an option.

  ‘Not long now, just hold on for another couple of minutes!’ I told the general, then turned to my team. ‘Everyone, stand up and make some noise! Draw their attention! Vik! Sur! Start shooting at them, even if they’re out of range!’ I ordered my team.

  As they all sprung to their feet on top of the berm, yelling and waving, I brought up the sentry’s panel on my NeuroHUD and set the engagement range for 450 metres, putting the edge of the enemy camp and the hundreds of minotaurs gathering there within its reach. It was time for some serious expenditure of ammunition, and I begrudgingly armed the sentry and held my breath.

  Boom! The automated gun fired the first shot at the same time Vik and Sur loosed their first Hell Mana infused arrows. Boom - boom - boom! The turret had no shortage of targets, and I lifted my rifle so I could zoom in and check the result. The arrows of my two archers landed just short of the enemy, but the fiery trails were as visible as ever, drawing the enemy’s attention. And the turret? The armour piercing rounds were slamming into the crowd, one every second, tearing through them in a spray of blood and guts. It was gruesome, it was brutal, and it was effective. Minotaurs and werewolves were falling, hopefully causing the enemy to lose all sense of safety and security. It didn’t take long for someone — either their captains or their general — to finally decide that the only way to deal with the threat we represented was to charge forward to take us down.

  I didn’t even want to start counting or guessing how many hellish, demonic monsters were suddenly running towards us; it must have been the entire camp, more than just a thousand. Maybe even two. I aimed my rifle and began firing single shots, adding to the devastation the turret was continuously wreaking on them. As they approached, the arrows of my archers were finding their targets as well, every hit resulting in a soldier catching fire or partly exploding. I took a quick look at the other two camps on either side; they were coming as well, their troops marching shoulder to shoulder, and I estimated they’d arrive in range in five minutes. I suddenly realised what kind of position I had put myself and my team in: if they reached us, we’d stand no chance, no matter how much ammunition I had between my turret and myself. I took another quick look at all three approaching armies, one on the left, one on the right, and one dead in front of us — it was death and doom coming at me from all sides, and they were committed.

  ‘Reinos! All three enemy camps launched a general assault against my position. This is as distracted as they’re gonna get. It’s time for you to get involved. Go!’

  [As you command, my lord.]

  The reply came, and I couldn’t wait to see his scary, demonic face getting into the thick of it.

  My archers as well as the sentry kept firing, the ammo counter going down by almost a hundred in half a minute, and what the hell was Reinos waiting for? Why wasn’t he marching already? I had given him his order, hadn’t I? Before I could send him a message to protest this delay, I caught movement in the distance, past Camp One, all the way at the walls and gate of the city. I stopped firing my rifle for a moment and aimed the scope at it, just in time to see the gate wide open now, and the main body of my general’s army pouring out like the raging waves of the sea. Four thousand demons, brandishing all manners of weapons rushed forth, storming the berms and barricades between the city and the enemy camp. Even from this distance I could hear the rumbling battle cries, and soon I saw the bright, orange light of fire spells, the cold, blue sheen of ice spells, and earth, rocks and dirt forming shapes and flying everywhere under the influence of the earth-spells of the few minotaur defenders left behind in the camp.

  The three approaching armies of course had noticed this development too. Camp One’s army — their front less than 150 metres from us now — was the one in the most precarious situation; they were desperate now, their arrows and spells raining down upon our berm, kicking up rocks and dirt, slowly obliterating the earthen wall, but luckily not as accurate as to directly hit me or any of my team. But they were now trapped between my sentry gun and Reinos’ army. They had realised this too; not only their rear was turning around already, but the other armies from the other camps were changing course, heading towards my general instead of us — whoever was commanding Camp One had spread the word already.

  ‘Reinos, Camps Two and Three have both changed course and are heading for you. Four minutes tops and they’ll be on you.’ I warned my general, watching his demons through the targeting scope as they tore through the mostly empty Camp One, already engaging the rearguard of their returning forces.

  [Understood.]

  The clipped reply came, and I watched as he immediately reacted. As almost his entire army was over the berms and trenches and having slaughtered the few hundred minotaurs who had been left there to stand guard, he technically owned Camp One now and had the room to manoeuvre. He quickly ordered two detachments to form, probably under the command of a few captains, and had them move to the left and right sides, forming a defensive line behind some less impressive emplacements than the ones facing the city. It would do — a lower berm was still a berm, a shallower trench was still a trench, and it would give them an edge. Three minutes later the battle was fought along a three-sided skirmish-line; Reinos’ four thousand fending off three assaults on three sides. Spells were flying, freezing and burning, and my sentry gun’s ammo counter was now under a hundred, still shooting at the horde of minotaurs of Camp One stuck between Reinos and us.

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  [My Lord, Detachment Alpha is being pushed back on the other side. The dead are piling up.]

  Reinos reported as he was receiving news from his captains on the other side of the city.

  ‘Tell them to keep pushing for a little longer. Send in the reserves if you have to.’ I told him. ‘Anything from the scouts?’

  [They’re out there, looking.]

  ‘How long can you hold Camp One?’

  [Long enough. We have the level advantage. The berms help too.]

  I aimed my gun at the camp, setting the zoom to maximum. I could even see Reinos himself, flinging spells at the enemy along with the mages he had — not as many as I would have liked to see — the streams of Hell Mana induced fire shooting from his hands were like a flamethrower, adding his bit of chaos and destruction to the battle against the forces of Camp One. Reinos the Vengeful Flame indeed. It was quite a sight. Leading by example wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I couldn’t afford him to be on the front and get killed by the minotaur mages who were doing their best to demolish or outright explode the very ground under my army’s feet on all sides.

  ‘Reinos, get back from the line! You’re a general now, not a grunt! If you die the army and the whole operation will collapse!’ I warned him.

  [My lord! The scouts have found him. He has to be the minotaur general. I marked his position.]

  Reinos ignored my warning but finally gave me the news I had been waiting for. I opened the RMS and brought up the map of the city and its surroundings, and sure enough, a red X glared at me from the western side of the walls.

  ‘We’re going after him. Pull back Detachment Alpha to the city! They’ve done their job. Hold Camp One for as long as you can, but don’t waste your entire force. Retreat if you have to or use Detachment Alpha and the reserves if you think it’s a better option. Your call.’ I told the general just as the sentry turret ran dry.

  [Understood, my Lord.]

  He acknowledged.

  I glanced at my archers; they still had a few stacks of arrows, shooting diligently at an enemy that was now confused and backing away from us, choosing to engage Reinos’ force instead — just like so many before them, they had learned that going up against large calibre gun emplacements was a bad and fatal idea. With their numbers greatly diminished, Reinos should have it a little easier.

  ‘Vik, Sur, keep it up for a few more minutes then get out of here! I’m going after the enemy general. Grashon, you and your guys are with me!’ I bellowed the orders as I climbed down the berm and ran up the mound to reclaim my sentry turret. In a puff of Hell Mana I stored the gun, and by the time I jumped off the mound, Grashon and his grunts were ready to roll out. It was time to make use of my second title: Hellfire Champion of the Fourth Ring.

  ***

  Now that my main target had finally presented itself, we were on the way to engage it, backing away from the battle of Camp One and running at full speed in a large circle outside the city, way behind the enemy camps along the walls, hopefully out of sight. At our speed I estimated we’d reach the place Reinos had marked on the map in about fifteen minutes, and I hoped to hell what I’d find there was indeed the general of the army surrounding Garoshek. Reinos’ scouts hadn’t reported seeing any other individual who fit the bill, but then again, they couldn’t and hadn’t gone around the entire city. But it was good enough for me, and as I ran, I was psyching myself up for the duel I intended to challenge the general to, as was the prerogative of a champion.

  Titles weren’t just empty words in this nightmare realm of Hell; through them The Genius was giving power and authority to individuals. I had been focusing on my title of ruling demon lord so far; the power and authority it gave me, along with the responsibilities and the options to fulfil them, were many and complex, and I only knew and understood a fraction of it. A champion, on the other hand, was a much simpler affair: just as a ruling demon lord could appoint a general, he could also appoint individual demons as champions of his Ring — provided the demons in question met the level requirement of 35. The role of a champion was simple: to challenge and kill enemy champions and generals on behalf of his lord, and once a champion issued his challenge, it couldn’t be refused or interfered with by any denizen of Hell. If certain requirements were met, a champion could even challenge a ruling demon lord. Having read the relevant explanations Button had provided, the fight between the minotaur champion and Ugrathar — which had been so rudely interrupted by my arrival in Hell — began to make sense. Unfortunately, we — the Fourth Ring collectively — were on the back foot, quite a long way from outnumbering them 2 to 1 in the field, otherwise I could have just waited for the bull faced king in Scaragar, challenge him, and no-one could interrupt our fight. When I had arrived in Hell, I was an outsider not a denizen of the realm, so my interruption of the duel between lord and champion at that time hadn’t counted as an interruption at all in The Genius’ book. Now I was a local for all intents and purposes, and all rules applied to me. And I was going to take advantage of them as much as I could.

  I was hoping I would be able to just snipe the enemy general from a distance — it would make life a lot simpler and safer for me — but I had a nagging feeling it wouldn’t be that simple and challenging him the moment I was in the appropriate range of him would be the thing to do. Either way, the minotaur general had to go. Without the power and authority as a general, his army would fall apart; captains would be cut off from each other, coordination would become difficult if not impossible, and if said captains weren’t careful or powerful enough, their troops’ morale would plummet. In the case of demons, plummeting morale meant that they’d revert to their natural instincts and mindset of “every demon for himself”, and their organisation would break down completely. If I managed to achieve this result, the minotaurs would either abandon the siege and flee, or Reinos would mow them down for sure.

  [Skill: Psychic Resistance (Combined) has reached level 2.]

  A message on my NeuroHUD popped up, and I slid to a halt in a panic. What the Hell? Grashon and his buddies stopped as well, looking around for enemies just as I was. I turned and looked in every direction through my gun’s targeting system, looking for an enemy to shoot, but I saw nothing other than the wilderness on one side, and the enemy camps in the distance and the vague outlines of the city behind them. There was no-one out here other than us. Which was very, very strange. My psychic resistance skill wouldn’t have just gained a level suddenly, unless it was fending off some sort of psychic influence, like it had when I had discovered Flamey’s charming shenanigans. I couldn’t rule out the minotaurs having specialised aura mages who could perform psychic attacks, but … there was no-one around.

  ‘Burning Darkness, I’m under psychic attack. Can you see … uh … sense anything?’ I asked my sword, as I couldn’t see, hear, feel or sense anything or anyone at all.

  ‘Nope, not a thing my man. Maybe it’s your imagination?’ he replied, sounding completely uninterested in my plight.

  ‘I don’t get level up notifications for my imagination!’ I grumbled.

  ‘Oh, yeah, you got a level for a skill, huh? How strange,’ he mused.

  ‘And? Anything? Sense around a bit, for gods’ sake!’

  ‘Hm. No, nothing. Sorry, my man, there is nothing here. Maybe it’s a glitch.’

  ‘I don’t think The Genius would tolerate glitches.’ I argued.

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know,’ the sword said, his voice giving me the impression of a shrug. ‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on getting to the enemy general? There’s no-one here.’

  He might have been right; I didn’t feel anything. Then again, I’d had no awareness of being under Flamey’s psychic influence either before coming across the clues, so if someone was messing with my head now, the only evidence of it was the sudden level gain of the resistance skill. And Burning Darkness had a point: I had a general to kill.

  ‘Let’s go guys!’ I yelled to Grashon and company as I resumed sprinting towards our goal.

  [Skill: Psychic Resistance (Combined) has reached level 3.]

  Oh, for fuck’s sake!