Chapter 740: 740

The power I held, it was so great I couldn’t see the whole of it, couldn’t grasp the scale, so vast had it become that I didn’t have a reference point for it, something to help me see its true nature. As it was, I came to understand it far too late to make a difference to the final outcome. I cannot blame myself. Nor do I blame us. What were we, except the victims of our conditions, living our goals and ideals as best we could?

I weep for those who were left behind, but I did all I could. As did we all.

Unknown.

It was always so damned hot down here. The wave certainly didn’t help, the fire mana hung so thick in the air Alir could smell it, brimstone and sulphur tickling the edge of his nostrils with every breath. He coughed and spat, trying to get the foul taste out of his mouth to no avail, the spittle evaporating to nothing mere seconds after it touched the ground.

“Blast it,” he muttered under his breath, stepping outside the inner chamber to try and get some air.

The acolytes outside stepped out of his way as he burst out the door, robes flapping behind him. They bowed low as he passed, their foreheads below the level of their waist, as was proper. Alir paid them no mind, such things were beneath his notice, instead he focused on his own restricted lungs as he marched through the temple and toward the front door, hoping to find relief.

“Grand Priest, a messenger awaits outside for you,” a timid priestess informed him as he strode past, causing a frown to crease his face.

“Demon?” he snapped.

“Y-Yes, Grand Priest,” she stuttered.

He grunted with irritation and continued his walk. A demon with a message usually didn’t bode well, more likely than not it was a frivolous waste of his time for something only the twisted denizens of this place would consider important. The unfortunate reality was that there were some demons he couldn’t afford to put offside, for the sake of the church’s work here. Maintaining a cooperative partnership was a requirement of doing business on the third strata, not even the church of the Path was immune from this requirement. Foul mood growing by the minute, Alir shoved open the stone doors of the temple and stepped outside.

Rather than the clear air he sought, he was greeted by the sight of the blasted wasteland that was the third strata, the blistering heat and demon stench even more pungent than before. The demon city of Roklu was no grand sight either, the rough stone buildings and even rougher denizens not improving the priest’s mood one iota.

It might have been a touch less stuffy in the open as opposed to the enclosed inner chamber, although that may just have been his mind playing tricks. Regardless, he dragged in a few lungsful and spat once more for good measure. He knew very well that only the most trusted members of the church could be given assignments like his, but the Path knew he regretted the strength of his own devotion on days like this.

“Humanssss,” ground a voice from nearby and Alir turned to see a razor thin pride demon eyeing him hungrily from nearby.

“What do you want, filth?” he sneered. No need to be polite with the help.

The demon didn’t react to his taunt, their kind seldom did.

“Grokussss wantsss you,” a fetid grin stretched across the creature’s face as it delivered its message.

Before Alir could even retort, the beast was gone, it’s wire thin limbs moving with uncanny speed to carry it away. Pride demons, he grimaced. They had a way of getting on his nerves. Thinking of the message that had been delivered, his mouth twisted, what did the petty despot ruler of this plate want with him today? The church had never failed to uphold their end of the agreement, despite the constant wrangling and sly machinations that were levelled against them from their ‘partners’.

This day couldn’t get any better.

He made his way through the city, the winding path leading him ever closer to the centre of the disk of stone the city stood on, and therefore, to the pillar. The various denizens of the city, mostly demons with a mix of sapient settlers, moved out of his way as he stomped through their midst. Judging from the look on his face, the Grand Priest was in poor mood and none wanted to be the unfortunate to feel his wrath.

There was something gratifying about having monsters ten times your size step aside as you walked, but Alir had grown numb to such things long ago, his focus was on the great pillar and the palace established on its face. Grokus’ residence wasn’t carved into the pillar itself, no force on Pangera could cut into that stone, but had been constructed around it, a compound that circled the full circ.u.mference around the centre of the city. What possible use the bloated demon could have for all of that space, he wouldn’t want to guess, but he’d ruled there for hundreds of years, embellishing the décor to the point where it had become frankly disturbing to behold.

When Alir arrived at the entrance carved into the outer wall of the compound, he nodded to the two pride demons on guard and waited for them to open it for him. Pride demons as door watchers. Subtlety was not one of Grokus’ strong points. If their post grated on them, the two wire thin figures gave no sign of it and hauled open the heavy gate to allow him entrance. As he stepped inside, Alir tried to block as many of the sights and sounds of the compound, his lip curling with distaste as he walked, gaze focused directly ahead. Despite years living amongst them, he was no closer to understanding the mindset of demons, to the point he doubted they could be understood. Their twisted natures and barbaric amus.e.m.e.nts were one thing, but their callous indifference to life, any life, including their own, was quite another.

From the corner of his eye he could see all manner of bizarre and horrific ‘entertainments’ being engaged in by the favoured lackeys of the City Lord. The victims, more often than not, were other demons, those who had wagered and lost, those who had failed a task given to them, or those who were simply bored. The charnel atmosphere managed to do the impossible and make the air even more unpleasant to breathe, the sickly stench of ichor and flesh mixing with the heat and brimstone to create a truly nauseating experience.

Even with his high Will stat, keeping his lunch down proved a challenge to Alir, and he battled manfully until he reached the inner courtyard to find the ruler of this place lounging, as best as a monster of his proportions could, beside a pool of liquid fire surrounded by depraved statues depicting various monsters being feasted on. Grokus himself was an old and particularly contemptible Excess Demon, a tier seven monster who had achieved a powerful evolution from the tier six Gluttony Demon. A bloated mass of pale flesh, a rarity for a demon, split across the middle with a mouth that measured more than ten feet from edge to edge. From the top of that bulbous pile of meat emerged a disturbing, human like figure cut off at the waist. It was to this that Alir directed his voice.

“You have summoned me and so I have come, Grokus,” he intoned, trying and largely failing to conceal his contempt. “What do you desire of the Church of the Path? An absolution, perhaps?”

The human figure atop the mass smiled thinly at the poor joke whilst the huge mouth guffawed deafeningly, a green, barbed tongue lolling from between the fat lips.

“I have called you here because some information has come to my attention that might be of interest to you and your people, priest,” the too pale figure of Grokus replied. “My scout has returned very quickly with news of the strata above. There appears to be an insect infestation above us.”