Kind Demon King

I blinked repeatedly to get used to a new way of seeing. It wasn’t like the night vision goggles I used during my time in the military. I saw everything as it was with the exception of colors being duller. Then again, what can of exciting thing you can see in a cave filled with cultists? Well, at least it gave me an idea about how it worked. Even though Shadow Melt was active too, I couldn’t tell the difference but Night Vision at least did something noticeable.

We managed to sneak behind several more, dispatching them quickly but not easily. The one I killed would have turned the tables on me if it wasn’t for Morrigan. I aimed for his throat for a quick and silent kill yet my blade was only able to draw blood. It was almost like I struck a rock. Thankfully, I managed to put my hand over his mouth before he could scream and Morrigan killed him.

It wasn’t like my blade was dull or anything. That guy must have some kind of “skill” or something. Anyways. Some of those we killed carried daggers and shields, which I quickly stowed away. More weapons were appreciated and daggers were more suitable to what we were doing.

As we moved deeper the cave which was narrow enough to make me feel nervous grew wider and wider like some kind of accursed beast. The ground beneath my feet was uneven, littered with loose stones and remnants of previous visitors—bones bleached white and scattered debris that hinted at past horrors. Fuckers. They really did sacrifice people here.

We walked until the cave expanded into a vast chamber, where the ceiling soared high above, lost in shadow. Flickering torchlight illuminated the space, casting dancing shadows. In the center of the chamber, a crude altar was constructed from rough-hewn stone, its surface littered with black stains. Stains of bloodshed a long time ago. Surrounding it were wooden cages, crudely fashioned and barely sturdy enough to hold the desperate souls inside. They were sickly looking, most of their skins were sunken in with starvation and dehydration. The echoes of muffled cries bounced off the stone walls, a haunting reminder of the horrors that took place within this dark sanctuary.

I made the right choice by coming here. These people didn’t deserve this shit.

Around twenty cultists were gathered in the center, carving some kind of symbol into the ground. Another 10 were chanting some kind of fucked up lullaby. I grabbed Morrigan, pulling her back into the shadows. Her eyes flashed with anger, and I felt the edge of her dagger brushing against my thigh. “Calm down!” I whispered urgently. “I’m trying to help you.”

“If we die, those people will follow soon. Use your head,” I continued, struggling to keep her still. “I’ll be the bait. Can you sneak past them while they’re chasing me?”

“What—what will you do?”

“Can you sneak past them?”

“Yes.”

“Good. While they’re distracted by me, you free the beastkin. If they scatter, they won’t be able to catch everyone.”

“But that’s—”

“Our best option.”

I didn’t know how strong Morrigan was. She could easily dispatch those my blade could only injure but something told me that the real threat was the cultists surrounding the symbol. Something about them was different. Even if Morrigan was somehow very strong, we were outnumbered.

I sighed. Honestly, I was being suicidal. Yet this seemed to be our best shot at saving slaves and getting out alive.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the chamber, putting on a show of surprise. I stood at the entrance, scanning the room with exaggerated curiosity.

“Ughhhh, hello? Can you guys point me to the nearest brothel? I think I took a wrong turn while taking a piss.”

For a solid minute, they stared at me in stunned silence before their confusion erupted into chaos.

“Catch him!”

The delay in their reaction was almost comical. Like I don’t know if I should be amused or disappointed it took them this long to move. As the closest two cultists lunged at me, I drew one of the daggers I had taken and drove it into the eye socket of the first cultist. He collapsed with a surprised gasp. Motherfucker probably didn’t even think I was armed. The second one, injured by a dagger in his leg, tried to retreat, but I finished him off with a swift stroke of the sword I had acquired. The remaining cultists looked on in fear, and I took pleasure in their terror.

“You guys are awful at fighting anyone who isn’t chained up.”

“He’s an adventurer!” one of them yelled.

“Call the elder!” another shouted.

“You useless retards! He’s just one person! Get him!”

As they charged, I turned and sprinted away. “He’s running!” someone yelled. Yeah, no shit dumbass.

“You’ll never catch me!”

I shouted with a laugh that was almost maniacal. I dashed through the cave’s narrow passages, several cultists hot on my heels. An arrow zipped past me, slicing through the edge of my hood. A fireball would have hit me if it wasn’t for me rolling the moment I felt its heat.

“Come on, slowpokes!”

I zig-zagged behind a tree to shake them off, breathing heavily. My stamina was still poor, but I kept up my game of hide-and-seek, kicking and swinging my sword to slow them down.

“You slippery little bitch!” one of them yelled, frustration lacing his voice. His nose was bleeding heavily since I slammed my elbow into it.

I gritted my teeth as I continued to evade them. Some managed to land glancing blows, but most only managed to bruise me. The number of pursuers dwindled as exhaustion took its toll, and I left a trail of panting, bleeding cultists in my wake.

“You guys wouldn’t last an hour in the military!” I taunted as I darted through the forest.

Just as I finished my sentence, one of them tackled me from behind. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and I was thrown to the ground. Karma had a way of catching up with me, and I hoped it would visit these guys soon.

“Hold his hands and legs!” the leader shouted.

struggled beneath the weight of my attackers, kicking and flailing like a cornered animal. Their grips tightened as they tried to subdue me, and I was soon covered in a mess of blood, sweat, and grime.

“He bit me!” one of them cried out.

“Be careful! He scratches too!” another warned.

“He’s slippery!”

“Just pin him down!”

My attempts to fight back only seemed to make things worse. I writhed and struggled, trying to shake off the cultists, but they were relentless. Finally, I was fully pinned and exhausted.

“You bastard!” one of the cultists yelled, landing a punch.

“Don’t kill him. We need to interrogate him first,” another ordered.

“Who do you work for? Which guild hired you?” a cultist spat, getting in my face. His breath was rank, and his spittle mixed with mine.

I didn’t respond, so he punched me repeatedly. When he finally stopped, I whispered something through clenched teeth.

“What?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Aghhh!” I bit down hard on his ear. Blood sprayed as he jumped back, and I wriggled free from my restraints, now even more slippery from the blood. “Just kill him!” one of them shouted.

“After you, bitch!” another retorted.

I grabbed a dagger from my jacket and fought back, my movements fueled by desperation. As I battled, one of the cultists shouted, “Slaves escaped! The elder ordered everyone to return to capture them—what the fuck?”

He stumbled upon me in the midst of stabbing one of his brethren. I snatched his sword and pointed it at the others. “What’s it going to be, fuckers? Fight me here or run to catch them?”

They exchanged wary glances, their resolve wavering. Covered in blood and sweat, they looked from my grimy, grinning face to the sword I held.

“We’ll deal with you later! I’ll remember your face!” one of them declared.

They retreated, their eyes never leaving mine. Once they were out of sight, I collapsed, gasping for air and groaning in exhaustion.

“You look like you’ve been through hell,” a familiar voice said.

I looked up to see Morrigan, her clothes torn and dirt-streaked, but fortunately, she was not covered in blood. “What about you?” I asked.

“I managed to kill some and free the beastkin. Their survival now depends on them,” she said, extending a hand to me.

Despite her harsh demeanor, her offer was genuine. I took her hand, feeling the strength in her grip. “Let’s get away from here and treat your wounds. You look rough.”

She helped me to my feet, and we made our way out of the cave, ready to regroup and tend to our injuries.