Chapter 41 #2
“Enough,” said Harald, and such was the power granted him by the Crown of the Abyssal Tyrant that his words cut through the hubbub like a scalpel.
All fell silent.
“I will commit to no cause as of yet. I will volunteer no information. I will claim no allies or foes.” He turned slowly, sweeping his gaze over the assembled ranks of worthies, some of whom narrowed their eyes, others of whom raised their chins, a few who shook their head in mocking disapproval.
“Begone. In time I shall make my choices known. You are not welcome here.”
“Not making a choice is a choice in and of itself,” said the black-armored angel, and stepped back into his portal to disappear to the 84th.
“Do reach out, Harald,” purred the demon in pure white, her voice a liquid shimmer that caressed his ear. “It’s a brutal war that’s being waged. We all are in need of friends.”
Then she, too, was gone.
The others mouthed their parting warnings or invitations, and one by one returned to their levels of the dungeon.
But for a single demon, who had remained still and silent and observant this entire time.
His armor was functional and battered, streaked here and there with rust. The blade at his hip was unadorned.
Unlike some of the other massive paladin-like figures, his stature was that of a mortal man.
His helm was horned, but in its simplicity it somehow exuded menace.
Harald was about to command this figure to depart like the rest when he reached up and pulled off their helmet.
To reveal a worn and aged face so familiar, so cruelly striking and once loved, that Harald felt a pang in his heart even as all the air left his lungs.
The man wore his hair thick past his ears but cut off raggedly at the nape of his neck, black hair shot through with silver.
His brow was heavy, his nose hawkish, his jaw firm and strong.
His eyes were the exact same hue as Harald’s, but their gaze was dour, the emotions in their depths complex and smoldering, and there was an authority there that Harald felt compelled to obey, a cruel and weary majesty that brooked no denial.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Son,” said Darius Darrowdelve. “Far better than I imagined.”
For a torturous eternity, Harald couldn’t speak.
His jaw was clenched so hard he felt his teeth might shatter.
But the revolving Crown above his head and his own augmented Ego allowed him to master this shock so that finally he inclined his head in a manner he hoped had some edge of mockery. “Father. It’s been a long time.”
“So it has. I’ve watched over you from afar.
Intervened when possible. Which was infrequent.
But here we are.” His father drew a deep breath, his expression settling, the emotion receding from his dark eyes so that they soon looked lifeless and flat.
“Vorakhar has sent me to investigate. You disappeared for a while, there; some trick of Eclavistra’s, I see.
He would speak with you on neutral ground. For old time’s sake.”
“I’ve no fondness for Vorakhar,” said Harald, tone low and hard. “I can’t believe you’re working for him.”
Darius inclined his head. “Life’s a funny thing. But I’m not here to explain myself. Instead, I’m being used to soften your resistance. He hopes my delivering his invitation will make you more amenable to hearing his offer. Has it worked?”
Harald all but sneered. “No.”
“I thought not.” Darius replaced his helm.
“A word of warning, then, from your old man: make the most of this time. The demons and angels are momentarily holding back out of fear. Fear that this is a trap, a ploy that another of their number has set up with outsized cunning. Soon, they’ll realize that this is nothing more than a common miracle, and then they shall move against you.
Be prepared for that time. It comes soon. ”
Darius turned back to his portal.
“Father,” called Harald.
Darius paused, then slowly, almost reluctantly, looked back at him over his shoulder.
A wealth of need and want blossomed in his heart. He wanted to cry out to the man, to bid him stay, to explain everything, to join his side, to become his ally, to become, again, his father in truth. To help him, fight alongside him, to work against the demons and angels together.
To stay.
But the hope died in his heart as quickly as it came. There was no mistaking his father’s mien. His attitude. His resignation.
So, instead, he simply said, “I’ll see you around.”
Darius Darrowdelve touched two fingers to his brow, then stepped through the portal and was gone.
Harald’s shoulders slumped. For a moment, he stood thus, and then urgency and panic gripped him by the nape of the neck.
He ran to the closest fallen figure and dropped down on his knees beside her. Sam. She lay still, head turned to one side, blood wet across her lip, her chest rising and falling with steady regularity.
“Sam?” Harald wished he had her gift, her ability to force others to absorb scales. But she was breathing, and he couldn’t see any wounds. Carefully, gently, he turned her head to a more comfortable position. Was there something in his new power that would allow him to heal her?
He summoned his window.
Name: Harald Darrowdelve
Soul Nature: Eternal Abyss
Soul Rank: Celestial
Soul Ability: Irrevocable Hunger
Tier: Arch Demon 1
Archon Numina Draw Rate: 14/49
Archon Numina: 7
Tier Blessings: Dark Divinity, Dungeon Teleportation, Demon Seed Bestowal, Demoniac Legion Formation
Class: Abyssal Master 10 (Base/Inactive)
Class Actives: Well of Starless Dominion, Abyssal Imperium, Demoniac Body
Class Passives: Crown of the Abyssal Tyrant, Form of the Black Throne, Demonic Assimilation
Endowments: Mote of Humility
Strength: 35
Dexterity: 38
Constitution: 42
Ego: 34
Presence: 41
Thrones: 7/7
Scales: 11,293,664/10,000,000
Artifacts: Chyron’s Scourge, Aetherlight Circlet
Servitors: Shadow Mastiff (Uncommon), Gauntlet Golem (Rare), Arch Demon Eclavistra (Legendary)
For a moment, all Harald could do was stare, but then he gave his head a sharp shake and focused on Dark Divinity. It was the only thing that might possibly lead to some manner of healing power.
Dark Divinity
You derive your powers directly from the Fallen Angel and may draw Archon Numina from her essence. Your path is adumbrated and chaotic, and thus your powers manifest as reflections of your soul.
Sub Powers:
Demonic Aura
Unhallowed Flesh
Dark Heart
Faith Empowerment
Divine Spark
The surreal titles washed over him in his desperation to find some manner of restoration, but of course there wasn’t anything there to help heal someone. That would be an angelic power, wouldn’t it? Or perhaps something arch demons only gained at higher tiers.
But Sam was breathing steadily. She had her own access to Archon Numina.
Time to see to his other friends.
Harald rose and blurred over to where Nessa lay. She, too, was alive, though her arm looked badly broken and her hip was twisted all wrong. Eclavistra’s dismissive blow had almost wrenched her body apart so that she lay like a discarded doll.
Harald didn’t even know where to begin, or how to help. Blood bubbled in Nessa’s nostrils, and her pallor had grown waxen, her breathing shallow.
“Damn it.”
Tears pricked his eyes as he darted to Vic. His golden-haired companion had been blasted from within, his Demon Seed turned against him. If anything, he was in even worse condition than Nessa, and had fallen face-first onto the rock, gashing open his cheek so that his face was a morass of blood.
Was he even breathing? Harald bent low, closed his eyes, and thought he could detect a faint whistling sound, the slightest of whispers.
But Vic wasn’t long for this world.
Panicked, Harald rose, sat back on his heels, and stared at his friend. His Cosmos had to have been destroyed, but Eclavistra had—
Wait.
Vic’s Demon Seed had come from Eclavistra.
He summoned the arch demon.
Who appeared by his side, her slender tail flicking slowly back and forth like a pendulum as she linked her hands behind her back and peered at the fallen Rapier Regent.
“Oh, he doesn’t look healthy,” she purred. “Was he of any importance to you?”
“It’s Vic,” growled Harald. “He had your Demon Seed. Can you heal him through it?”
“He was my toy?” Eclavistra canted her horned head to one side. “I don’t recall. My past life is but a shadowed blur. But I sense no connection to this mortal. They are so delicate, are they not? So easily broken.”
“Damn it,” hissed Harald again, and pressed his fists to his brow.
“Master, if you wish to revive him, why not endow him with your own Demon Seed? I sense your ability to do so.”
Harald dropped his hands. “I can do that?”
Eclavistra lowered her chin and raised her brows. “Are you ignorant of your own powers?”
“I am.” Harald tore his gaze back to Vic. “I can force him to take my Demon Seed?”
“This is a rare situation. Almost impossibly so. You say he accepted a Seed from me. You stole your powers from my living form. Thus, tenuously, it may be possible that the permission he granted me has passed unto yourself. I suggest you try it. He’s nearly dead.”
Harald blew out his cheeks and extended his hands over Vic’s still body, then paused. Was this the right thing to do? Would Vic want to come back?
Who was he kidding? Of course Vic would want to. Sam, Kársek, Nessa even—those would have been different situations. But Vic?
He could almost hear his friend laughing. Harry-boy, what the fuck are you waiting for? Get me up and kicking and back to the Kitty Kat Club.
“How do I do this?”
“It should be intuitive, unless you are uniquely inept or spiritually crippled in some—”
“So, I just will it?”
“In short, yes.”