Chapter 40

  My body ached as I rose from the ground, but what worried me a lot more was that I had company. And probably about ten, maybe fifteen seconds before I would meet an ugly end, because it seemed that the Dreamer of Pain had deposited me right in the middle of the camp my army had overrun and conquered, and he had taken my helmet off. How he had bypassed my SAC’s security measures, I had no clue. But he had, and thus along with Reinos, hundreds of demons from the city were standing in the middle of the demolished camp, staring dumbfounded at a creature they only knew from thousand-year-old stories of surface heroes descending into Hell for the express purpose of slaughtering everyone. From what I’d heard demonkind had it coming at the time, but if Tarashak’s reaction and sentiments were anything to go by, this wasn’t going to be an easy thing to explain away. And if my own army attacked me, it wasn’t going to be an easy thing to shoot my way out. I’d probably die here if they turned on me. Ah. Not good.

  Then again, these were demons. Including Kralsen, Fourth Ring native or not. Which meant that in a fashion befitting his kind, he was making a play for my title, hoping my own general and my own army would do the dirty work. The sneaky bastard! Couldn’t he have just killed me himself and take the title? Hm. Maybe he couldn’t, or maybe he had other plans; it didn’t matter. Right now, I was in the kind of trouble that could only be solved by a demonstration of might and some plausible explanations. If I had learned anything about demons in the past couple of weeks, it was that the language most of them spoke and understood was a language of power first and of reason second. And that led me to the question whether I was in any shape to demonstrate power.

  I quickly read the messages on my NeuroHUD, looking both at Button’s notifications as well as the important numbers on my stat sheet.

  [Skill: Master of the Hellfire Blade has reached level 6.]

  [EXP requirement for level 18 (Human, sort of) reached. Do you wish to level up?]

  [EXP requirement for level 19 (Human, sort of) reached. Do you wish to level up?]

  [Alternatively:]

  [EXP requirement for level 23 (Machine Armaments of the Hellfire Lord) reached. Do you wish to level up?]

  [Skill: Psychic Riposte (Combined) has reached level 6.]

  [New skill available: Master of Nightmares.]

  [New skill available: Dreamscape Architect.]

  Calvin Jacob Hyde

  HP (Health Points): 168

  HMP (Hell Mana Points): 28

  Bonded Item Set (Machine Armaments of The Hellfire Lord)

  Durability: 674

  The level up notifications and new skills were good news, but my HP dropping from 230 to 168 and my SAC losing more than a third of its durability was not. Lacking the Hell Mana to cast Hades Heal on my aching shoulder and my possibly broken collarbone made the situation worse. No, I wasn’t in a good enough shape to demonstrate any kind of impressive magical or physical prowess, and looking at all the ferocious, bloodied and now battle-hardened demons gathering around me, I knew fighting my way out would have been difficult even in tip-top shape.

  ‘This is not looking good, my man. I have a plan,’ Burning Darkness spoke to me, his voice in my head giving me the distinct image of a man shaking and sweating profusely in front of a firing squad.

  ‘A plan, huh? Would this plan by any chance be “run”?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah. Run.’

  ‘Not going to work.’ I shut him down.

  ‘You can’t fight them all, man! I can try and level and repair your SAC as fast as I can, but even then, you can’t fight all of them. These aren’t weakling minotaurs.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So? What then?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’ll show them who’s boss,’ I muttered as I summoned my carry bag from my storage.

  ‘What are you doing?’ the sword demanded.

  Instead of answering him, I got a pack of cigarettes out of my bag, got one in my mouth and lit it. The crowd began to stir uncomfortably as I puffed some smoke out. I had to be the one to make the first move here, and I had to do it without fighting. I had one choice: to show them the absolute confidence of a hero of the surface world who had made this place his home and its people his people and had nothing to fear. I’d done it before — albeit in front of a much smaller audience — and I had to do it again before my army decided my silence was a sign of weakness or something equally abhorrent in their eyes.

  I took a long look at the demons around me, I gave a glance to the tall, dark and skinny figure of Kralsen — who was still holding my helmet in his hands and was hopefully still busy processing what he had seen in my dreams he had so rudely invaded — then I turned to Reinos.

  ‘Glad to see you’re still with us, general,’ I told him as if all was well with the world and there wasn’t anything strange to see here. And pretending I wasn’t hurting everywhere. ‘I see you’re holding this camp. How is the rest of the battle going? Report!’

  He just stared at me like the rest of the troops. His mouth moved, but no words.

  ‘Reinos, I can see only a few hundred of your soldiers here, which means the rest are still out there working their way through the enemy encampments. I need your report so I can plan our next move. Or do you perhaps wish to put forward an objection on account of seeing my face for the first time?’

  ‘Uhm … well … my Lord, you really are …’ Reinos stuttered.

  ‘A human of the surface world?’ I offered him the words he was obviously looking for or just reluctant to say out loud. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t at least suspect it.’

  ‘I … I knew, the general told me. After you appointed me.’

  Oh. It was my turn to be surprised, even though I shouldn’t have been. Of course Tarashak had told him, because why not? The guy liked talking. Well, it was something I could use.

  ‘Great,’ I said to him, then I turned my head to look at the gathered demons to make sure they were all listening. ‘Then I trust there’s no problem. Our work here is not done yet.’

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  ‘General, what is happening? Is that creature really a human? From the surface world?’ I heard the worried voice of a demon as he stepped out from the crowd; a large fire-demon by any standard — or at least any standard I’d seen so far — wearing dark grey armour and gripping a long spear that had some extra spikes and hooks. I was sure there was a name for such a morbidly cruel-looking weapon, but I couldn’t recall.

  ‘I am Hellfire Lord Hyde. I am the ruling demon lord of this ring. And who might you be?’ I turned to the newcomer to our conversation, raising my eyebrows at him and oozing almost as much confidence as the minotaur general had before our fight, hoping it would serve me better than it had him.

  ‘I … I am Krasharak,’ the guy said, looking around nervously.

  Krasharak? I knew that name.

  ‘Ah, yes. Krasharak. The city overseer, correct?’

  ‘I am,’ he said.

  I stepped closer to him, and the guy flinched. I supposed it was a normal thing for a level 30 demon to do when facing a creature who was not only higher level but the literal boogeyman for his entire kind.

  ‘I take it you are a captain in my army now?’

  The guy nodded slowly, looking at Reinos for support. I turned to my general as well.

  ‘Did he do well in battle?’ I asked him.

  ‘He did, my Lord.’ Reinos nodded. ‘They all did.’

  I stepped away from them and turned to address the entire crowd.

  ‘Well, if General Reinos says you fought well, then I will take his word for it. And you will fight again and again like you have never before.’ I looked down and kicked a dead minotaur. ‘The Fourth Ring belongs to me, to us, and I will not suffer the presence of this filth pouring in from the Third. Heroes from the surface world once swept through Hell, and none could stand in their way. Those heroes didn’t belong here. I do. Those among you who don’t like it, you know what to do. It will make it easier for me as well; corpses don’t complain much.’

  Loud murmurs were running through the crowd, horned heads bobbing up and down in agreement and approval. Even Krasharak seemed placated and somewhat happy that his contributions as a captain had been acknowledged. Demons were easy in a way — intelligent, violent, prideful, and surprisingly amenable to powerful leaders who could give them what they wanted. And if that powerful leader happened to be a monster from a demon’s worst nightmare — and who could have guessed their monster would be a human — it seemed they could work with that for the time being. The dark figure of Kralsen stood a few steps away from me and Reinos like a scarecrow made of the night itself, watching me, probably — I couldn’t see any facial features let alone his eyes, if he even had any. I knew it was in his demonic nature to at least try to get a demon lord’s title for himself — Tarashak had made no secret of how this worked here in Hell. And I hoped the Dreamer of Pain was as unhappy as a demon could be after his plan to have me killed by my own army had failed. Not today, Kralsen, not today!

  I turned back to the crowd, satisfied that my approval rating was high enough to not worry about mutiny for now.

  ‘As I said, our work here is not done. My army is fighting, taking over camp after camp, isn’t that right, Reinos?’

  ‘Yes, my Lord. After you slaughtered their general, the minotaur scums are in disarray. Thousands of my soldiers are fighting and advancing. I’m coordinating them as we speak.’

  ‘Very good, general,’ I said to him, smiling. ‘Now, get back to it! There’s no shortage of minotaurs.’

  ‘Yes, my Lord,’ Reinos said, and walked away.

  The gathered demons either followed him or got back to their posts guarding the camp.

  ‘And this just leaves you.’ I turned to Kralsen’s very dark and very thin figure.

  ***

  Reinos was back to directing the ongoing battle — or rather a mop-up operation, as the minotaur army was now a headless beast in the hands of captains who couldn’t coordinate with each other. It was time to deal with this wayward and potentially murderous general made of shadows. I turned to him, looking up at what I thought was the face of this tangible mass of darkness. I wanted to make him squirm, I wanted to make him regret the moment he had decided to have me killed.

  ‘Well, Kralsen, your plan has …’ I began to say but I had to stop myself.

  I didn’t know why, but I had a sudden feeling, a hunch, that I was missing something here. But what was it? Kralsen had managed to infiltrate the minotaur general’s camp undetected and watched my duel. I was rather interested how he had done it. Then, instead of letting me fight my way out and die in the process, he had sort of spirited me away from the enemy camp, probably the same way he had infiltrated it in the first place. He had taken a quick and aggressive peek into my memories in the form of dreams, then he had exposed me to my own army as a human. The damned creature was still holding my helmet in his dark mitts. But he hadn’t done anything to hinder my efforts to pacify my troops. Even now, as we stood face-to-face, he wasn’t doing anything; he wasn’t trying to kill me or to flee, he was just … standing there quietly. What was his game then?

  ‘I am Zeneth,’ the dark figure stated, his voice just as deep and rumbling as I had remembered from our dreamy encounter.

  ‘Zeneth? Not Kralsen?’ I asked, eyebrows raised. ‘Burning Darkness? Didn’t you say …?’

  ‘Ah, yes, I did, but you know how it is with Kralsen and his little cabal of Fifth Ring mind-types; they all look the same. How should I know which one’s which?’ The sword tried to explain his blunder away.

  ‘Did you just say Fifth Ring? What the hell do you mean?’ I demanded, not quite sure how to react to this unexpected revelation.

  ‘Well, yeah. Kralsen and his buddies are Fifth Ring leftovers from the time they conquered Hell. They’re the small fries who didn’t make it back and got stuck here. I thought you knew,’ he said, chuckling nervously.

  ‘You … what? How would I know something like that?’

  ‘Small fries?’ Zeneth commented, his tone calm but also menacing.

  ‘You can hear him?’ I asked.

  ‘The weapon is of the Fifth Ring,’ he said as if that explained everything. And I knew that already.

  ‘Huh! Bloody mind-types. The lowest of the low. Typical.’ Burning darkness commented.

  ‘You would do well to not insult who we are, Blade of Betrayal.’ Zeneth’s words rung both in my ears and deep in my mind.

  ‘Blade of Betrayal? What’s he talking about?’ I inquired, not liking at all where this was going.

  ‘Calvin, don’t listen to a word he’s saying. The past is the past. I have reinvented myself a long time ago, and this guy and his ilk are all about insanity and mind-games, alright?’

  ‘Fine.’ I sighed. ‘I’ll let it slide for now, but we’ll talk about this later.’

  ‘Fine. But for now, let’s just cut him down! His body isn’t that powerful, level 20 equivalent at best,’ he suggested with great enthusiasm.

  It would have been a lie to say I wasn’t tempted; the guy had literally invaded my mind and my dreams, the kind of privacy violation even the most sophisticated NeuroHUD modules or similar technologies weren’t capable of to the best of my knowledge. On the other hand, I’d had enough fights for the day, I was yet to heal my shoulder, the pain was irritating, and I found myself having a slew of questions to which this dark and mysterious Zeneth fellow had answers.

  ‘That’s enough. We’re not cutting anyone down unless they’re minotaurs.’ I delivered my verdict.

  ‘But …’ my sword tried to protest.

  ‘No buts!’ I shut him down and turned to Zeneth. ‘Listen, I am the ruling demon lord of this Ring, and whoever you are you are in it, and you are under my authority. As such, you will do as I say and answer some questions I …’

  ‘Ooooi! Boss!’

  I heard a familiar voice accompanied by the sound of heavy footfalls, approaching from behind.

  ‘The fuck?’ I grunted angrily as I turned around and saw Grashon and his grunts arriving along with Vik and Sur, hauling my heavy and beloved sentry turret along with its tripod platform.

  ‘You’re back.’ I greeted my returning squad.

  Grashon and the others screeched to a halt in front of me, looking down at me with eyes wide — I had completely forgot my moderately handsome human face was exposed for all Hell to see.

  ‘Boss, I didn’t know you were this ugly,’ the big guy remarked without any tact — as usual — as he helped set the turret down in front of me. ‘What kind of demon are you, eh?’

  ‘Grash, he’s human. One of the Blessed.’ Vikaret sneered at the warrior. ‘Probably a hero, too. I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out yet.’

  ‘I can,’ Surthakan commented, grinning at Iska.

  Grash stopped moving, then slowly looked me up and down, his eyes wide like a toddler in an amusement park.

  ‘A hero?’ he asked, his voice low, and I wasn’t sure what to expect from the big brute, until his lipless mouth twisted into an unnaturally wide grin. ‘Huh! Our boss is a hero from up there? We’re going to win this war, aren’t we? We’re going to slaughter every last Third Ringer, aren’t we?’

  I let out a silent sigh of relief: I had grown to like Grash and his buddies, I would have loathed having to fight them. Lucky for me, he was always looking at the bright side of Hell.

  ‘We are,’ I said to him, then turned back to Zeneth. ‘Gimme that helmet back you stupid lump of tar, and let’s talk!’

  Zeneth relaxed his posture and handed me my helmet. I put it on immediately.

  ‘Who’s this? Isn’t he a bit scrawny for an ice-demon?’ Grashon asked, eying Zeneth.

  ‘Ice-demon?’ I asked. ‘He’s not an ice- …’

  ‘Uh … I believe he is, if that’s what he wants them to see,’ Burning Darkness cut me short. ‘Bloody mind-types and their stupid psychic trickery.’

  I really, really wished I was back in Scaragar right now, sitting down somewhere with a cigarette in one hand and a Crunchymel bar in the other, listening to my darling daughter enlightening me about princesses instead of dealing with this kind of weirdness. Because what the hell was I supposed to do with this?