Chapter 16: Minions of the Dark
Given everything going on around them, everyone had to know that this was not a great time for questions; still, that didn't stop the influx of such inquiries from pouring in as the prince, Denin, Rethi, and Lord Ashmere had all picked themselves up and had run over to him, badgering him now with so many questions that his mind could barely register them.
"…in your cell?" the prince asked. Though Dal hadn't paid attention to the beginning of the sentence, it was fairly obvious what the prince was asking. Thankfully, he didn't even need to reply to it. He had someone with him for that now.
"Rude!" Ravenia squawked—and even flew at the prince as though intent on pecking him. "How dare you imprison my disgraceful, charlatan, impoverished, deadbeat master?" she yelled in a confusing way that both attacked and defended Dal simultaneously. "You should be grateful! He's saving your lives!"
"Of course I'm grateful," the prince replied. Then he gawked at the familiar. "But…how is it that you can speak? What exactly are you?"
The familiar again squawked and returned to Dal's shoulder as though the question was beneath her dignity. "Master, start summoning," she said. "The demon-peasant will escape the blood pool soon."
Dal nodded, smiling confidently. He felt so nonchalant and relaxed. This class was really starting to grow on him. Or perhaps he was simply in a good mood because of all the death and blood that was everywhere around him. God below, he sure did love that. Praise be to the King of Darkness!
Silently, Dal prayed to the great King of Darkness, wishing that his reign would forever plunge this world into ruin. And with the one true God below in mind, he drew upon the darkness as inspiration. He raised his staff with both hands, he filled his heart with righteous wickedness, and he began twirling it around and around, rotating it such that he formed small circular patterns in the air.
"Gwahhh," a crackling, creeping voice cried from somewhere beneath Dal as the concrete in front of him broke apart—or no, not broke apart. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that it imploded, and in its place, an almost perfectly round hole simply appeared, one so deep that, looking down, Dal could not even see the bottom of it. It was almost as though it went all the way down to hell itself.
Now, a creature began climbing up and out of it, one made entirely of bone. It was climbing up with just one hand while gripping a sword in its other. And it wasn't alone, either. The moment it crawled out of the hole and stood upright before Dal, the skeleton was joined by a second such skeleton. But still, there was more.
With the unmistakable sound of pained, dread-filled moaning, three decaying, foul-smelling creatures with rotten skin and yellowed teeth shambled out, and all three shuffled awkwardly over towards the two skeletons. The stench of them was awful. Dal loved it. And though they were unarmed, Dal had the sense that they did not need weapons to pose a threat to his enemies. And that was especially true for the next beast to emerge from the hole he'd formed in the street.
There it is, he thought, pleased with what he'd conjured.
A roar so loud that it made the prince and his cohorts take several cautious steps backwards echoed from within the hole, and not a second after, a hairy, wolf-like monster did not so much climb as it did launch itself up and out of the pit, landing on two feet and standing upright. The sight of it delighted Dal. He regarded this monster with the utmost approval.
This creature, this "fiend," had the ears of a dog, and its open, drooling mouth revealed a set of fangs that looked every bit as sharp as the demon's. It also had perfectly yellow, glowing eyes and massive, human-like hands covered in the same very dark, slightly blue fur that encompassed the rest of the creature's body.
And now, as this fiend threw itself forward into a crawling position and then ran like an animal towards Dal, it did so while turning its head upwards and releasing a distinct, chilling cry. "AWOOOOOOOOO!"
Ravenia did not seem impressed, however. As Dal's army of two skeletons, three zombies, and a fiend assembled in front of him, the familiar flapped her wings, but she did not fly. It was as though the gesture was one of frustration. "It took you long enough, charlatan. The demon is about to break free."
Dal had become so impressed by his assembled collection of minions that he'd almost forgotten all about the demon, which was now struggling like a trapped beast as it hissed and screeched in its attempt to escape the confines of the blood pool. Dal watched, amused, as its screams became more and more frantic. It had now become submerged down to its chest level.
"What happens to it if it can't break free and keeps sinking?"
"When any entity's head sinks below the surface of the Pool of Blood, they can never escape it," the familiar said. "They die over the course of eight thousand years, with each moment designed to inflict maximum pain to the extent that the neurons in the victim's brain can process it."
Dal cringed. He didn't like that very much. Death was beautiful, and even this demon did not deserve to be deprived of it for eight thousand years; no, Dal would give him the gift—the reward!—of death if it could earn such a thing by freeing itself. Thus far, the demon had failed—and it was continuing to fail, as it was now down to its neck, sinking lower and lower.
"I think Dal's got it!" Alain cried out. "But God above, what is that? Is that a pool made of blood? And are those hands that are grabbing the demon?"
"This is a bit disturbing, no?" Denin asked as he watched the demon sink. "This is extremely dark magic."
"No, it's not," Rethi said, shaking her head. "I use dark magic, and I've never seen anything like this."
Ravenia squawked. "This isn't dark magic, you fools. It's black magic. There's a difference."
Rather than become offput, Rethi turned her head to Dal, and then her eyes widened, but they did so in a mischievous, wicked sort of way. "Dal, you look hot with the black hair and the eye shadow."
He sighed and ignored her even as she seductively flipped her red hair and batted her eyelashes at him. Instead, he kept his eyes on the demon as it continued to submerge into the blood pool such that now its mouth sank beneath the surface, causing its screeches to turn to gargles.
"I think it's going to go under," he said to the familiar.
"Oh, that's interesting." She squawked. "You know what I think? I think you're a disgrace, and I want you to die. Unfortunately, you won't: because I have your back, now and forever, my master."
Dal frowned at the familiar. He didn't like the way she kept going back and forth like that. It was confusing and made no sense whatsoever. It was also something he didn't have the time to contemplate, for the demon, which was now almost completely submerged aside from its two horns, which jutted up from out of the pool of blood, at last came to a stop. Just before the horns themselves went under, its downward momentum halted. And now, there was a moment of quiet across the main road—an uncomfortable stillness as Dal stared unblinking at the pool of blood, watching and waiting.
Then there was movement.
The horns began to shake and vibrate, starting off slowly but with a ramping intensity that saw it form little ripples in the blood pool like a stone that had been thrown on top of it. But soon after, these ripples turned to even greater ripples, and now, small blood waves began breaking against the surrounding terrain and spilling onto the concrete. Finally, what appeared to be steam started rising up from the pool, and it was only now that Dal realized the blood was coming to a boil.
"Get ready," Ravenia said with disgust. "Here it comes. You're on your own from here on out."
Dal removed his left hand from his staff, gripped it into a fist, then chuckled into it. He found the familiar amusing. "Oh? Abandoning me, Ravenia?"
"No, you charlatan!" she yelled. "My ability, Predictive Insight, can only be used for five minutes a day. I don't know what it's going to do next—starting now."
"Ah. So that's how you were able to tell what it planned on doing."
"Right."
Time Remaining: 5 minutes, 45 seconds
The blood continued to boil, the waves continued increasing in their intensity, and then, finally, with a loud screech, the demon flew up and out of the blood pool, ascending all the way up into the air above the town. There were also multiple snapping sounds, and Dal realized that several of the hands were still gripping the demon in multiple places, and they were leaking blood as though they'd been torn off arms.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
"I suggest you start summoning Lord of Skulls, Master. Or don't. Or just die. I don't quite care either way. Squawk."
Dal gave his familiar a cutting look. "Did you just say the word 'squawk?'"
"Do you have a problem with that, Master?"
"No."
"Good."
Dal turned his head to look up at the demon, whose rage-filled eyes were now also clearly filled with fear and doubt. It did not appear to enjoy the glee with which Dal was regarding it. With his left, free hand, Dal waved at it. "Come down and have some fun with us," he called up to the quivering demon. Then he made another waving motion, this time to the little ensemble of creatures he'd summoned. "I brought some new friends for you to play with."
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" the demon replied. It then sliced the air in front of itself several times with its sword—almost as though it were warming itself up. There was no denying that the thing was rattled. But that was good, as it only made this more fun for Dal.
I don't know how I feel so pleased right now, he thought. But I wish I could feel like this forever.
"Come!" he called out again. "Don't tell me you're frightened, demon!"
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" it screeched.
"The demon says he would never fear a human," Ravenia announced, causing Dal to raise his eyebrows in genuine surprise. The same surprise was evident in the prince and the others, too.
"You can speak its language?"
"I speak all languages. I am a familiar! But you'd know that if you were a real Necromancer and not some charlatan disgrace!"
Dal shrugged. "I am what I am." He looked away from Ravenia and instead stared at the demon, gazing right into its goat-like eyes. "If you're not afraid, then come fight. Coward!"
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" the demon screeched.
"The demon says it accepts your challenge, and it will enjoy ripping you into many small pieces."
Following that translation, the demon angled its body forward and made several powerful, intense flapping motions with its wings, causing it to explode through the air as it dove directly down on top of Dal, who remained right where he was in a relaxed, casual stance. He did not so much as flinch as the demon caused a hissing sound as it rocketed towards Dal with its clawed hand extended as though desperate to rip apart his throat.
Calmly, Dal smiled at the fiend he'd summoned as he activated Command Minion. "Get him, fiend."
Staying right where he was, Dal watched as his fiend howled loudly into the morning air and ran directly in front of Dal, where it then stood back upright on its two feet and jumped upwards an instant before the demon crashed on top of them both. The result was a dull, but painful-sounding thunk as their two forms collided midair and were thrown off to the side. This was followed by another thwack as they both crashed together onto the concrete and began rolling, the fiend's jaws snapping down tightly on the demon's shoulder and the demon's claws repeatedly stabbing the fiend in its throat and chest.
"Go," Dal commanded his zombies and skeletons, waving his staff at smashed concrete where the demon and his fiend had landed.
"Gwahhh," the two skeletons crackled. The zombies merely moaned. Both groups moved relatively slowly, but right now, that did not matter as the demon and the fiend were locked into a deathly war of attrition as they bit and clawed into each other on the concrete.
"We'll help too!" the prince said, to which Lord Ashmere nodded. Denin and Rethi also signaled their agreement.
"Are you sure?" Dal asked them. "The four of you are exhausted. You might just end up getting yourselves killed." A smile found its way onto his lips at the thought. "Not that that's not a beautiful thing."
"A beautiful thing?" Denin asked.
"Don't worry about it." Dal took a few steps back and then knelt down onto the street with his knees flat against the concrete. Then, holding his staff vertically, he pressed the base of it down in front of him and leaned forward so that his forehead rested on the skull that adorned the opposite end. "I need to summon something that will be able to kill the demon. If the four of you really want to help, then buy me some time—but only if my minions are defeated."
Lord Ashmere scowled. "Why didn't you do this while the demon was caught in that pool of blood like the bird told you to?"
"I'm not a bird, you scoundrel!" Ravenia squawked. Then, with a somewhat more subdued tone of voice, she added, "But you're not wrong. Master, why did you wait so long?"
Dal lifted his shoulders. "I don't know," he said. "I suppose I was just enjoying watching it struggle. I wanted to witness the moment of its beautiful demise."
The Dragon Knight's scowl intensified, but more than that, there was now alarm and even a touch of fear in his eyes—directed at Dal of all people. "You have no resistance to Class-Draw whatsoever, do you, Dal?"
"I don't?"
"No!" he snapped. "And this is part of what makes you so dangerous. You need to train yourself. This…this isn't a good sight. And for someone like you in particular, Dal, it could be catastrophic. It could be a greater threat than this demon!"
"He's right," the prince said, nodding. "It's certainly not your fault, Dal, as you've never been taught to resist the CD. But the way you're acting…you're like a totally different person. You're letting Class-Draw define you." As he spoke, two guards came running over. One was carrying the sword that had been knocked out of Alain's grip, and the other was carrying the massive claymore Lord Ashmere wielded. Their weapons having been returned, they turned to face the demon, but not before admonishing Dal.
"I'm so grateful that you've come to our aid," the prince told him. "I mean that with all of my heart. But I'm also saddened you were planning to escape—and please do not lie about that." He looked at Dal with a stunning amount of sincerity in his eyes. "If you shifted into the wrong class at the wrong level at the wrong time…do you have any idea what you are capable of? What can happen? Especially as you are now, having never learned to resist the CD."
Dal had no idea what they were talking about. This was how he always behaved, wasn't it? They were speaking nonsense.
Are they, though? he asked himself, the question temporarily causing him to blink and tremble. Remember mother? Remember father? Remember…Nelina?
Dal shook his head as sweat began to pour down his forehead.
…you know what you did to them.
Now, Dal became a bit rattled, though he tamped down on it and forced himself to concentrate on what he was doing. Slowly, but surely, he eased back into a sense of calm and delight. He needed to summon the Lord of Skulls. He closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and with that, he used all of the strength he had as he worked to call forth an entity capable of slaying a demon.
This would badly exhaust him.