You eat or you die.

Just make sure someone else does the dying part.

- Grumpy, the Burrows’ most feared drillmaster.

The airborne flare began to dim as it descended back towards the underground lake. Its white light reflected on the shifting forms of numerous black shapes crawling all over the huge bridge pillars.

“And that’s why we don’t climb up,” I said before turning around towards the crowd of Awakened. Most of them looked horrified at the revelation my Light magic had brought, whilst others were already busy tearing off a single arm sleeve. “So we either climb up, and die for sure. Or we’ll gather the fuel necessary to start a fire.” Most still seemed hesitant at my words. “Unless you want to fight giant spiders up close and personal?” The sound of tearing fabric began filling the air. Got em.

I pointed towards the entrance of our newly dug tunnel. “Make sure you don’t bunch them up in one big pile. I want several clumps of cloth situated near the opening.” I jumped off my little rocky platform as the group slowly began marching their way towards the tunnel. Sly immediately began following me when I set off in the opposite direction. “Any news from our lake scout?”

“No, captain,” Sly said. “The imp has yet to return, but seeing how she’s still standing it’s safe to say it hasn’t died yet.” Emphasis on yet. We quickly closed in on Maximilian and his Water Warlocks. They were situated near the edge of the underground lake, their imps situated close by, scanning the waters for any submerged threats.

“Maximilian, what’s the status on th-”

One of the girls in the group wobbled briefly before collapsing. “Mary!” another man shouted as he caught her falling form. He brushed away her brown hair, flinching at the rolled back eyes beneath. “Wake up. Wake up, Mary.” He began to softly shake the unresponsive body, only to sneer at Maximilian when his efforts bore no fruit. “What did you make her do!”

“He didn’t make her do anything,” I budded in. “I did.”

“How dare you ki-”

“She’s not dead. She’s unconscious.” I pointed at her rising chest. “Last time I checked, dead people didn’t breathe.” The man’s mask of anger slipped off, quickly replaced by rising relief. “Don’t mind me asking, but why the reaction? You know she would have been fine in a couple of hours.” The man gave me a blank stare. “You know… standard Pact terms and all that?” More stares. “The same Pact you made with your demon?” The man couldn’t look more flabbergasted even if he wanted to. “The compensation principle?”

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about.”

…

“I’m afraid to ask, but is there anyone else here who thinks I’m speaking gibberish?” Everyone except Maximilian and Sly nodded their heads. Gods have mercy on me. “Your name.” Again there was silent staring. So I decided to voice my request again, albeit a few inches away from his face, “Tell. Me. Your. Name.”

The man seemed to get the message as he began fumbling for words, “I, uh… that would be Ben, sir.”

I nodded towards the unconscious woman. “And this is?”

“Mary, sir. She’s my sister.”

Two warlocks in the family, must be a one with some renown. Albeit a retarded one. “What is your surname?”

The man began to fumble for words as I stood up. “He doesn’t have any,” Maximilian chimed in. “He’s a commoner. Only Shapers and Warlocks are allowed to have a surname.”

“And being a commoner means what exactly?”

“That your family has never possessed or doesn’t currently posses any living Shapers or Warlocks.”

“You’re telling me that a family with no active Sins just happened to give birth to two Warlocks?” Maximilian nodded. “What are the fucking chances of that?”

“Low. Extremely low, I must say. But not low enough.” Maximilian gestured towards the Awakened stationed across the alcove. “These people are the result of that very low chance applied to a very large population. They are Cadia’s fresh influx of new blood, at least that would have been the idea.” A dark shadow fell over his face. “If it weren’t for the yearly Purges.”

“That may well be, but how do these people even manage to make a Pact in the first place? They don’t even know the compensation principles for Gods sake.”

“I can tell you that,” Ben said. “When we came to the yearly test, we were each given a room with a teacher and some weird circle.” He scratched his head. “Once there, they made us read some lines from a scroll while we were channeling our mana.” Ben looked at a couple of imps stationed near the group, before pointing at the brown one. “Next thing I know, Muck here steps through some black gate before offering me this Pact thing. So I do what the teacher told me to do and offered him my blood.”

“You just offered him your blood? No questioning about the Pact whatsoever?”

“Well… yeah.” I made an audible facepalm. “I mean, the teacher told me I would pass if I followed his instructions. And I didn’t want to disappoint me ma at the farm. Not with the chance of becoming one of them fancy nobles, and all that.” A farmer. He’s a fucking farmer.

I turned towards the other Warlocks in the group. “Anyone else care to tell me their profession?”

The other three quickly gave their answer, “Baker.” “Fisherman.”“Tailor.”

…

We’re doomed. Finished. Destined to die. Might as well start damage control while I still can. “Sly, I want you to degrade the combat level of all Awakened to civilian status. Any further engagements are to be fought out with the use of hand-picked elites. Anyone else is to be used as meat shields to buy time for the actual combatants to-”

“Hey now, Marcus,” Maximilian said. “They’re not that ba-”

“I’ve completely destroyed you in our arena duel. And you’re a Cadian noble, taught and tutored in the art of magical combat.” I looked around. “You’re telling me that these farmers, bakers, and whatnot stand a decent chance in battle? Not to mention the fact that they don’t even know the very basics of demonology.”

“Surely it can’t be that bad.” one of the men asked. “Can it?”

“I’m stuck at an unknown depth, in the most dangerous place imaginable. Branded by a Mark that binds me to stay here till I’ve repaid my massive debt to some Founder God. In addition my demon ran away, my brothers in arms don’t know the pointy end of a sword, nor could they quick-cast a spell if their life depended on it.”

“I get it, we-”

“In addition I’ve got some savant idiot walking around with enough power to blow us all up if he feels like it. A hundred mouths to feed, but no food. Two-hundred hands to arm, but no weapons. And not even a fucking stick to set aflame for my Fire mages. So now I’m forced to burn arm sleeves in order to create enough heat to make said mages combat-effective. But you’re right, its okay since I have this monster-infested lake from which to drink water. So long as nothing decides to crawl out of it and eat me for breakfast.” Those last words caused the group tot take a few steps away from the water line.

Maximilian wrapped his arm around me. “You okay, Marcus?”

“It’s the stress talking. I just… I… give me a second, okay?”

...

…

...

“Okay, I think I got it,” I said. “Maximilian, I’m going to rethink my strategies. You just make sure to explain the basics of demon combat to them.”

“Sure, thing,” Maximilian said.

“What about my sister?” Ben asked, cradling the limp woman.

“She’ll be fine.” I answered. “She’s just lost all her mana, that’s all.”

Ben gave me a weird look. “How? She didn’t cast any spells.”

I managed to suppress a sigh. Baby-steps, Marcus. You’re dealing with idiots here. “I’ll start from the basics, so listen up. Do you know what your imp, Muck, is made of?”

“Uh… meat?”

“Wrong.” I crossed my fingers. “Only contracted demons appear to be made from real flesh and bone.” At least that’s what Gob told me. “Pact demons like yours are simply a clump of mana given shape. Merely a vessel that houses their soul, though that vessel will always strive to match their real appearance as best as possible.”

I still can’t believe I need to explain all of this. “Summoning the soul, and creating this vessel isn’t something anyone can do. Those who lack the necessary amount of mana, be it through a too small mana pool, or wasteful channeling, won’t even be able to establish a Pact in the first place. Those that do manage to establish a Pact will fall into one of two groups.”

“The first, and by far the largest, group would be the Shapers. People with enough talent and mana to summon a demon’s soul, but not enough to actually create and maintain a vessel for it. Instead they house the soul in their own body, receiving a portion of that demon’s strength and abilities.”

“The second group, the one you belong to, are the Warlocks. People with enough talent and mana to both summon and create a vessel for said demon soul. They can manifest the full strength and abilities of their summoned demons, albeit not through their own bodies.” I scanned the small crowd for signs of mental leakage. “Are you still following me?” The group nodded in unison.

“Good,” I said. “You’ll probably notice when you start casting spells, but anchoring the demon’s soul is a constant drain on your mana regeneration. That counts double for maintaining and repairing its physical vessel. Simply said, you’ll recover a lot slower while your demon remains on this plane of existence. And in case your natural recovery isn’t fast enough, you’ll fall unconscious eventually.”

“Is that what happened to my sister?” Ben asked.

“No. In your case it would be because of the compensation principle.”

“The what?”

“The compensation principle. A set of rules that gives demons a reason to even bother coming here in the first place.” I turned to the other three commoners. “Anyone her knows how a demon grows more powerful?”

“Mana?” one of the men eventually answered.

“Correct.” I snapped my fingers. “Its mana, pure and simple. The more mana a demon’s soul absorbs the more powerful it becomes. Of course that isn’t the only way it can grow more powerful, advancing one’s Sins is another major way, but that’s a topic for another time.” This time I began staring at Ben. “And where do they get this mana from?”

“Us,” he answered.

“Correct. A portion of both the anchoring of the soul, and the maintaining of the vessel is simply the demon leeching mana as per the compensation rules of the Pact. That’s why demon’s grow to reflect their owners’ Sins and vices. It’s your mana they’re feeding on, so it’s bound to change them over time.”

Ben thought a bit, his brown eyebrows creased into a deep furrow, before voicing his complaint, “But Mary seemed fine just a minute ago. I would have noticed it if she showed signs of mana exhaustion.”

“True,” I said. “But that’s because Mary got hit by the another rule of the compensation principle. The one that is even more important to demons than the one just mentioned. Namely the buy-out.”

“Buy-out?” all four of them asked at the same time.

“Since a Pact demon’s vessel releases the soul upon destruction, he or she returns to the demon realm upon death. Ready to be summoned again at a moment’s notice… as long as you’ve got the mana that is.”

“So I can re-summon my demon each time it dies?” I nodded. “That’s awesome.”

“Maybe for you, but not for them.” Some of the imps in the vicinity nodded at my words. At least their ears aren’t just for show. “Dying sucks, you know? Not even demons want to go through that more times than they have to.” There was a chorus of agreeing grunts among the nearby imps. “So they came up with the buy-out rule before added it to the compensation principles. The rule basically means they are allowed to take all your remaining mana upon their vessel’s destruction. And I mean, all of it. See it as a sort of bonus for dying in various horrendous ways. Plus, they’ll be able to take a short breather before their next summoning. Quite smart if I must say so.”

“What ab-”

“Ask Maximilian, he’ll be happy to help you,” I said before giving him a light shoulder slap. “Won’t you, Max?”

Not that I waited for an answer. My feet were already moving towards the tunnel entrance, and away from these human distractions. It was only after they were far enough, that I began giving out orders, “Sly, I’ll delay the tunnel breach for another two hours. While I’m holding the ceiling up with the rest of the Sloths, use that time to round up all the remaining Awakened and drill them in the basics of demonology. I’m not fighting giant spiders with a bunch of stupid imps, controlled by even dumber Warlocks.”

“You sure they were spiders?”

“Whatever my Mage Sight saw on that other side of the wall, it definitely wasn’t humanoid. Not unless humans have eight legs, and are the size of a small cart.”

“Let’s hope they’re edible. We won’t last long without food.”

“Hope is nice and all, but we better make preparations.” I did several takes to make sure no one was in our vicinity before whispering, “Ask the other squad members about possible dead-weights. We’ll station them close to the entrance. If we’re lucky, enough of them will die to feed the rest of us.” Sly suddenly punched me in the shoulder. “Ow, what did you do that for?”

“Not suited to leadership, my ass,” she smirked. “For someone supposedly unqualified, you’re having little trouble making the tough decisions.”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked whilst rubbing my shoulder. “Cry and moan as we starve to death?” Sly bit her lip before grabbing my collar. “Wait, what are y-”

My mind blanked out when our lips met. The warm, foreign sensation the only thing that I could focus on. A few seconds later it was already over as Sly smacked her lips, giving me a full-blown smile. “So that’s what a grown-up Marcus tastes like.” She sauntered closer. “Not bad, not bad at all.” I could not think—there was no need to think. One more. One more time. Sly rested a finger on my lips, softly pushing my face away.

“Easy there, fellow. We wouldn’t want to spoil you too much, now would we?”

Please do.