Demonic Magician

We stepped out of the house in pristine suits, sparkling blue and purple that matched the vibrancy of our eyes. The two greatest magicians in the world who had survived hell and become stronger for it. Changed, in some ways more subtle than others, but greater for it.

Another reason for the spring in our step was we were now Level Twenty.

While the System saw fit to ignore us during our vacation, it was still working in the background. Hell had Quests, in fact, and we had been gaining them and completing them without knowing - the experience and rewards unclaimed until I clocked the overflowing tab. Other than copious amounts of useless gold, upgraded chance boxes to sit beside the ones found in hell, and a few decent spell scrolls and potions - the rewards themselves fell rather flat.

Level Nineteen granted me an ability called , which was another Dazzle removing skill like and . This one allowed me to turn ten icons into another demon summon. Weaker and shorter lifespan than the usual ones I could bring forth, but given that I could quickly drum up hundreds of the Dazzle icons against a group of enemies… I’d get as many as I desired.

My Level Twenty upgrade to my Class skill just added a sharp edge to the rest of my abilities. Those hostile to me would gain a Dazzle icon just for being in my presence, increasing every ten seconds. It made monologues even more dangerous, just not for me.

Ren had gained another ranged attacking skill, and her final Oathwarden ability would keep me alive even better—she assured me. Despite everything we’d been through, she still refused to give me the exact details of what her Class ability did. I had a decent guess, but also saw through her reasoning for not giving me the exact wording. If I knew, then I’d exploit it.

Beneath our clothing, we were toned. More muscled and athletic that before our jaunt into the depths. Further below that surface, our hearts had melded. It felt like we had lived a lifetime together, knew each other inside and out. A marriage after only two or so months of meeting seemed rushed, but given that death could come for us any day, it was the right thing to do.

And as the pair of us stepped over to the gathered others, I felt on top of the world. Ren had slid her plan softly through my wanting ears, and I could feel the anticipation radiating off of her.

“You certainly look better,” Tana said with a wary smile. “Glowing, in fact. Are you guys okay?”

Wolf was over to the side, without armor or clothing. Lazed about asleep on his back with tongue lolled out. Several large empty plates lie around him and he had been cleaned through. I’d left them with some water spell scrolls to wash him off last night. He looked content and fulfilled.

“Better than ever,” Ren answered. “We both have abs now. It’s pretty wild.”

“No… long-term effects?” The fateweaver furrowed her brow. “It might be good for you to decompress and tell us what happened.”

I shook my head. “I assure you, Tanya. We are fine, and in fact…” I paused and frowned, a pained expression darkening my face. “Oh… oh no…”

“What’s wrong, Max?” Ren took a step away, adding to the concern of Tanya and the approaching Quinn.

With a growl, I stumbled back and clutched at my face. “Aaah, I think I’m… no! I was corrupted and can’t control it.”

All eyes on me. Panic had the fateweaver frozen in place. Quinn wasn’t sure whether to grab at a potion or his sword. As the rest of our small army clambered up in unease, it was too late.

My top hat fell to the floor as horns burst from my head. With my face shadowed, long fangs caught the light as two wings grew from my back and flicked out wide with a leathery crack.

“I’m finally free,” I roared, “now I can kill and consume you all!”

Ren’s rifle was up, a swirl of radiant energy pulsing down the long barrel. “I’m so sorry, Max,” she hissed, tears streaming down her face.

Before she—or any of the stunned audience—could act, a large demonic sword emerged from the ground with a hellish rumble, striking me between the legs and cutting up through my stomach, chest, and finally cleaving my head in twain.

The two sides of my body shuffled before flopping over onto the grass, spraying blood and entrails all over the place. As my patron sword hung in the air, single eye looking rather peeved at being roped into this, Ren turned to the others.

Rifle held out, it was now replaced by a rolled up cloth which she allowed to unfurl. As soon as it hit the ground, she swept it away to reveal me—back to normal.

Somebody at the back threw up. Tanya stood with her mouth agape - a mixture of shock and annoyance leveled our way. Quinn was still staring at my dead body with his one eye. Wolf slept through the whole thing.

“Motherfuckers,” the fateweaver eventually said, while Ren bent over doubled, laughing - something almost as surprising to the rest of the Party as my faux death. “I see your trials didn’t make you any less of an asshole, and now you’re both as bad as each other.”

“We have a lot to tell you.” My face was an apologetic grin, but I secretly loved it. If only the elf had chosen to copy as well. I turned my gaze from the ire of our Party to see the goblin healer, Ruby, step over and prod my fake corpse.

“Trauma aside,” she murmured, also shooting me a glare, “this is some interesting shit, Max. What happens to this?”

“Fades after a certain time. Blood and everything too—otherwise, it’d have some interesting uses, I’m sure.”

The goblin nodded, thoughts distracting her from how annoyed at me she was. “Even temporarily…”

“Alright, assholes,” the gruff voice of Fiona called from the side. The woman was clearly not impressed with our shenanigans, least of all because half of her Party had paled and gone off their breakfast from the sight. “Sit still for five minutes and let’s get up to date.”

So we did so—and ate alongside our tales. Although we hadn’t gone without food down in hell, there was something about eating under the blue sky, surrounded by the rich greens of the woodland that just settled my aching soul. I felt more at home here than I did even back on Earth. A strange thought.

We told them about all the demons we had to kill through from the moment they left until we reached the palace. The Domains we had to survive, the new powers the three of us gained, and finally my ascension to the throne as king of hell. Roger’s death, my new patron, and then the System-officiated marriage between Ren and I.

I left out the frequency and degree of depravity that our more salaciously spent time encompassed. Somehow, I had kept a hold of a shred of dignity, and we had already gained a fair share of dirty looks just from our demonic entrance—which had now faded away.

At times, the others grimaced or raised their eyes in disbelief. Leyla’s group especially was totally out of their element, yet none of them seemed to think I was lying. Especially when I revealed my demonic transformation was just something I could do and control easily. Quinn and Tanya knew full well what sort of bullshit I got into, and had a more stoic and concerned expression—saddened to hear that Roger had passed, and then equally mad that they hadn’t been present for our wedding.

“We’ll need to have a proper celebration,” the fateweaver insisted. “Maybe when this is all over.”

I looked at Ren, and she nodded eagerly, her face radiant with happiness.

“And what of the elephant in the room?” Quinn asked. “We can see it in the Party window…”

“Ah. One of the other benefits of being stuck in hell was being unattached from the level cap restriction. After almost a month of grinding through demons and unwittingly completing quests, we are now level twenty.”

Fiona rolled her eyes and sighed. “No doubt that means just you three are more powerful than the rest of us put together then.”

“Maybe just me alone,” I said, modestly, “but that’s not the point. A show has many moving parts. You can’t rely on the star to carry the performance.”

“Stars,” Ren corrected.

“Stars. Apologies, my love.” I put my hand on her leg and she held it there. We were already sitting as close to each other as possible without merging. No doubt we were going to be one of those annoying couples—at least until the rest of the trauma washed away and we settled back into this normality.

“This puts us on great standing against Candlekeep,” Quinn offered.

I shrugged. “Perhaps. We’ve long agreed that the Lady has either some bug or her Class ability allows her to gain power in ways that skips normal progression. With a whole city under her control… if she is able to draw from the System-created citizens or something, we don’t know what we’re up against.”

Fiona nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately, Max may be right. Our two scouts are now feared dead, so we don’t know what has happened in the city since it was taken. All we are able to tell is that it hasn’t broken the barrier between this area and the third…”

That was the goal of the Crimson Shadow, as far as we understood it. Ironically, not unlike our trip through hell, the Lady sought to depose the current Othean royalty and taken the apparent power for herself to try to find a way to escape this world. Without a care for how many corpses she left in her wake.

There was the temptation to think that we were now uncontested in power. We had rolled through everything in hell and emerged victorious, max level, and full of all sorts of bullshit. It was almost sad that I had no more skills to earn. There was still equipment growth, although we wouldn’t find anything level appropriate in this second zone, so we could forget that. Tokens were the other thing. None of my newer abilities had been upgraded yet, so that was about the only source of power we were lacking.

“No news from the Eternal Wardens?” I asked.

Some awkward glances between those gathered before Tanya shook her head. “Assumed dead. We took a brief look at the town yesterday, from a safe distance. It looks… weird there.”

“We’re rather accustomed to weird,” Ren said. “How specifically?”

“It’s quiet,” Fiona offered. “In a very spooky fuckin’ way. Zero life remains - even the System-created are absent.”

“Blood or signs of a fight?” I asked.

Quinn looked out to the woods, as if trying to recall it more vividly. “No blood or bodies. There were deep scratches in all manner of things. Houses, the stone road, the temple in which the Guardians resided. Not… destroyed, oddly. It was as though a giant cat had just used the town as a scratching post.”

I pulled a face and looked at Ren. “Recovered enough for fighting more eldritch abominations?”

“Fuck yeah.” She grinned. “Let’s tear the world in half, trickster.”

“Your wish is my command.” I stood from my chair and then stepped up atop it. The others winced, expecting me to explode and shower them with my split organs.

I had slightly something better planned - although it was tempting.

“First, though…” I said, my eyes narrowing at the congregation. “Let’s think of a name for our Guild.”