Chapter 14
Isat and talked to Almeria for a long while as we waited.
Without Almeria's help, it was taking the First Garden a fair bit of time to finish clearing the instance, though that was fine.
My goal was to make the demons sweat and push them into entering the instance recklessly to get at us.
If I didn't make them hunger at least a little, this was never going to work.
The longer they sat out there and stewed, the more they'd have to struggle with various decisions on their mind, which was enough for me to comfortably sit here and twiddle my thumbs.
And it wasn't as if I had anything too pressing at the moment; I could wait out a large number of demons. Eve would be able to protect her sect, and if she couldn't, then I had three very reliable women on the outside who could step up to almost any challenge.
Eventually, the instance rumbled, quaked, and offered me an exit. Even then, I didn't take the option immediately. A minute later, the disciples of the First Garden came running with big grins on their faces, likely pleased to have completed it on their own.
"Well done." I flashed them a quick smile.
"Now comes the next part," I offered cautiously, gauging their response, though none of them seemed remotely concerned.
I was glad that they were seasoned warriors.
"First, our appearance in and of itself will be a declaration of our strength, so there's less need for Almeria and me to hold back.
" I glanced at Almeria. "My goal will be to pop out, drop a Crimson Barrier to contain any of them next to the instance portal, and protect you all. "
"We're gonna go again?" the disciples asked, sounding excited by the prospect.
"If you're up for it," I answered. "If you're not, you can say no.
It would be the wise thing to do if you're exhausted enough that you think you'll make mistakes.
" Rather than answer immediately, they glanced around at each other.
I smiled that none of them were so greedy as to try to push their party one way or another; they must have been a good group, together long enough to have that kind of chemistry.
After brief glances, they came to a quick decision.
"We'll go," the leader said. "If we get sloppy, would you be willing to watch us while we rest?"
I was quick to agree. The longer we could keep this strategy going, the more likely the demons would just throw everyone at us. So far, it appeared they had a rule not to enter. Instead, the insectoids seemed to think they'd been tricked.
My best guess was that high-level instances were meant for the Demon Lord's own prosperity, not others', which was a terrible leadership decision if I'd ever heard of one.
Then again, the Demon Lord did not rule to build up his subjects; instead, he ruled to simply absorb power for himself.
And if those who followed him cycled through enough, well, they'd never amass enough strength to challenge him.
There was no reason not to keep them terrified and execute a few to set examples.
I shook my head. "On three," I said, holding my finger up as if to tap the screen, turning to check that Almeria was doing the same, her hand hovering.
"One, two, three," I said, and as my hand tapped the air, I was ripped from the instance, only to be deposited in front of several demons with heavy maces cocked back over their shoulders.
They were all waiting. Three right by the portal with another dozen splayed out, in the clearing they’d made by ripping a dozen trees out of their way.
A Crimson Barrier expanded from me, swallowing three demons even as their maces crunched against my chest. I grimaced under their combined attacks.
Almeria had appeared and slipped under the first guard as they'd all focused on me, her rapier slashing and then stabbing, ripping through one, and then, in an efficient flourish, ending that demon as several pounded on my barrier.
My own blade swept out, cutting large swaths from another manta demon, as I saw their leader slam into my Crimson Barrier, the rest of the disciples from the First Garden pouring out behind him.
"We'll stay out here and kill you all!" one of the demons bellowed without an ounce of hesitation, as their leader shouted much the same.
I smiled, finishing the third among the group right by the portal.
"Have fun waiting. I think we're gonna go ahead and take a nap before we start the next one. I mean… we brought enough food for several months," I said, causing the lead manta demon's temple to pulse as Almeria slipped back into the instance to safety.
"Anything you gain in there will become ours," the demon gloated. "You're simply doing the farming for us."
"Ah, but you have to catch us to get it," I said, pulling out a hunk of bread and taking a bite to taunt him. They’d stopped attacking the Crimson Barrier. I could slip in the second it broke, and we all knew it.
He stared at me across the barrier.
I decided to push him a little harder. "It could be a very, very long wait, and somehow, I have a feeling there's someone far less patient than me waiting on good news about this instance.
" I grinned and stepped back toward the portal while he stood glowering, watching me disappear. I popped through to the other side.
Almeria cocked her head. "How upset did you manage to make him?"
"Oh, very," I answered with a satisfied laugh.
Since the demons weren't coming in, I realized we had a golden opportunity to simply grind out this instance as quickly and productively as we could. Given how long the last run had taken, the demons might relax, and we could catch them off-guard if we hurried.
"All of you are going to rush this one," I told the group. "Almeria will follow the First Garden to ensure haste doesn't lead to accidents." She nodded in understanding, and I let my focus shift back to the other problems at hand, my mind wandering and working through them one by one.
***
Venthra walked, hands in her pockets, through the city. The place was filthy. People often thought the Borrsons were messy, but really it came from a certain penchant for chaos. The spaces were clean, just not necessarily put away in a neat and orderly manner. But here, it was simply filthy.
As she walked through the city streets, rats scurried underfoot. Rats were the worst; they might not seem all that dangerous, but the amount of disease they could spread now that modern medicine had been so thoroughly crippled should not be underestimated.
And it had not escaped Venthra’s notice that no one had blocked her from entering the city whatsoever.
There was no security, and if there was no security, that meant functionally either there wasn't anyone in charge, or they didn't have a strong enough grip on the city to do something as basic as monitor who came and went.
Despite all of that, there were still a fair number of people milling about. People had scrounged, scraped, and eked out a life, though many lay half-slumped in the streets, eyes sunken and hollow, the spirit completely drained from them. Venthra could only shake her head.
Those who had begun killing the monsters and thriving in the aftermath of the apocalypse were obvious.
They were the ones who walked the streets with a pep in their step, a jaunty swagger, and a smile on their face.
It wasn't surprising when one of them spotted Venthra, with her clean, pressed shirt, and tilted his head.
"Don't recognize you." His eyes trailed up and down her. "And trust me, if I'd seen you before, I would remember it."
"Vena," Venthra said by way of introduction, holding out a hand and sticking to her persona.
Bran had at least made it close to her name.
"Pleasure to meet you. Let's just say it's been a long walk to get here, and more than a few shitheads on the road have made me a little less than friendly.
But I did get a recommendation to find the nuns. "
The man shook his head. "Nuns suck. I mean, they're nice but… they're too nice, if you get my drift."
"Got it. They don't stand a chance long-term," Venthra followed.
"That's about right," the man said, with a shake of his head.
"Then who's good?" Venthra continued.
The man, who still hadn’t introduced himself, waffled his head. "No one's good in this world any longer."
Venthra paused, turned, and stared at him. "Of course there's no one good. But 'good’ isn't absolute; it's a relative term. So who's not such a shithole that if I get something nice, I can expect to wake up the next morning?"
"We all look after our own. It's just basic human nature.
Now, becoming part of the group, that can either be easy or incredibly difficult.
Marco's good. He wants the kind of people who have a little hunger in them, if you know what I mean.
It makes it so he doesn't have to handhold all his members.
Guadalupe's not bad, either. They say she used to run an orphanage that pipelined into a bunch of manual labor jobs.
She's a tough nut, but she's not too bad, if you get in her good graces. "
"What if I'm a tougher nut myself?" Venthra asked, grinning and leaning forward.
"You might think you're tough shit from wherever you came from, but I guarantee you the city's a whole different ballgame." The man chuckled.
Venthra squinted at him briefly. "Whose greeting party are you? Marco's?"
He held his hands up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm just giving you a leg up. I'm not biased."
Venthra held back an eyeroll. "Yeah, you're Marco's man through and through." She feigned sniffing the air. "I can practically smell it."
"Look, lady, I don't care—"
"It's Vena. Not lady. Certainly not to you. Just because you're one man's or another doesn't make it a bad thing. It is, however, important that I know who you speak for to judge your words."
He pursed his lips, less than pleased at her picking apart his words.
Venthra knew the conversation was unlikely to remain productive, so even though he wasn't done talking, she was done. She stepped back, making her intentions clear.
His eyes narrowed in a threat that lingered for the barest moment on her lips.
This was exactly why Venthra didn't like hiding herself. Instead, she flipped out one of the talismans, hoping it would burn in her hand, only to frown in disappointment.
"Ah, fuck. You get to live. Maybe the next one," she said to his mystified expression and began walking away, whistling to herself. Turning her back on him was definitely going to piss him off, which also made it all the more satisfying.
He hadn't given her enough directly, but people often gave more subtle cues than they realized as they spoke.
When he'd talked about each faction, his eyes had drifted one way or the other.
It was a subtle cue to be sure, but it was enough to get her started.
She pivoted and headed toward what she hoped would be a far more productive conversation with the nuns.
Marco was clearly a shit, but she had yet to determine if he was a demonic shit.