“[Holy Smite!]”

A flash of brilliant white light lit up the chamber as it left the priest’s staff. The spell clashed with a shambling bone construct annihilating it. Hollow bones rang as they scattered across the stone floor of the crypt.

Melvin held up an orb of radiant light in his left hand to illuminate the damp burial chamber. The priest and his followers had entered the vast catacombs that spanned beneath the ancient graveyard in pursuit of Victorian, but so far their search had failed to turn up a body… or its pieces.

The priest was not a betting man – his faith forbade it – but he secretly wagered that the undead had already taken care of the Rotwald boy for him. Such assumptions alone, however, were not likely to impress his new master. Melvin knew that Lord Steinfeld required more substantial proof of Victorian’s death than his word. And, if delving into the heart of an undead lair was the only way to obtain such irrefutable evidence, then the priest was not at liberty to disagree.

He did not dread the necromantic creatures, seeing as how the ability to hold his own against the undead was expected of a man in his position. With the vast range of divine spells and enchantments that he had mastered the exploration of this unholy place was more of a chore to Melvin, the priest of the Temple. A well-equipped paladin might have had an easier time with the task, but a combat trained priest, such as himself, was not the wrong man for the job either.

“Stupid boy!” Melvin cussed under his breath as he stepped over the scattered remains of his defeated foe. “There better be enough of you left for me to claim my reward.”

He was growing increasingly tired from the whole ordeal. It wasn’t just the fighting, though – no, he was only human and the long chase had left Melvin weary.

The priest had to pace himself as while he did not engage his enemies in physical combat, the prolonged use of magic had a draining effect on the casters stamina. Overuse could easily result in Melvin fainting from the exhaustion, or worse. Spell caster’s fatigue was a common affliction for those gifted with the presence of the arcane element in their blood and Melvin was no exception. His bleached white hair stood as a testament to that overindulgence – a sure sign that the man was probably not going to live past his forties.

“I wonder if I should take credit for killing Richter as well,” Melvin mumbled to himself as he pressed onwards, through the burial chamber and into the next room. Unsurprisingly, it was as barren as the ones before.

“Bah, we are not the first ones here,” the holy man said as he examined the pillaged remains of the sarcophagi. “Hardly anything left to loot–”

Melvin jumped as a loud cracking noise echoed through the chamber. He raised his staff towards the source of commotion in preparation to once lash out with his magic.

After several heavy strikes an old wooden door burst open and a burly, grey steel armor clad warrior forced his way into the room. He gripped his sword with both hands, taking up a defensive stance.

“Crassus?” Melvin addressed the panting hedge knight. “Have you found any trace of Victorian?”

“Oh, it’s you,” Crassus said in a low voice. The hedge knight lowered his guard once he was sure that they were in no immediate danger. “We searched the left wing – nothing. It just led us back to the main hallway... Damn, this place is a maze.”

“Well, it’s good that you found your way back to me,” Melvin said. “We should stick together from here on out. I fear the number of the undead will only grow the deeper we go. These catacombs are old, so the best preserved bodies should be at the bottom – they got buried last.”

“Bring them on,” Crassus said and straightened his posture. “I don’t mind the exercise.”

“Yes, but do keep in mind that Victorian might still be alive,” Melvin reminded him. “Don’t get reckless. Wounded or not, he is still a threat.”

Crassus scoffed. “He is all alone now,” he said. “How much of a challenge could it be to kill an unarmed boy?” The hedge knight changed his grip around the sword’s hilt to get a feel for its balance.

“Do not underestimate him, Crassus,” Melvin warned. “Victorian showed some promise during his training. Paladin or not, at the very least Richter taught that boy to fight like a knight.”

But the priest’s warning was wasted upon Crassus who promptly laughed it off.

“That old man?” he asked. “I killed him in a single blow!

Trust me, Melvin; the boy will soon join his overrated mentor in the afterlife.”

The hedge knight examined his blade in the orange light of the priest’s illumination spell. “Crushing all these undead with my sword is boring,” he complained. “They don’t squirm when I cut them. I’d much rather bathe it in the blood of heretics...”

“I don’t care how we kill him,” the priest told his absentminded comrade. “Just make sure no to mangle his body beyond recognition. We still need to bring back proof of his death. It gets a bit problematic when you cut people up the way you do.”

Crassus shrugged. “Hey, if it feels right, it feels right.”

Melvin considered the knight to be less than reliable, but his ability with the sword was unquestionable. Their party was a motley band of zealots and mercenaries, so some differences in opinion were bound surface. And when they inevitably did, Melvin always chose to mediate a compromise, rather than confronting his less devout comrades when it came to settling matters of the faith. It was the same courtesy that he extended to the more violently inclined ones for when it came to fighting.

Their conversation did not distract the two weary adventurers from the potential danger of the crypt. Ever cautious, Melvin noticed a presence lurking in the shadows behind him. No… felt one, more like it.

It was an unpleasant, but familiar presence.

Melvin turned around and confronted the man skulking in the darkness of the crypt. “Care to join us in the fight, Kaleb?” he asked. “There are no enemies left behind us.”

“Don’t you feel safer with me covering your back?” Kaleb asked in a crackling voice. The grim, slender man slowly emerged from the shadows.

No one would wish to have you standing behind them, Melvin thought.

The rogue seemed to be well aware of Melvin’s guarded hostility against him, yet he approached the priest as if he had nothing to fear from him.

Kaleb’s footsteps made no sound on the hard stone floor of the crypt. The soft padding of his leather boots allowed for a much greater range of mobility than a fighter clad in heavier chainmail or a full plate suit could achieve.

The skinny man wore a set of pitch black leather and cloth armor that had daggers of all shapes and sizes sprouting out from the numerous pockets and holsters sown onto it. Most of them were throwing daggers that the proficient assassin could use to deliver unexpected attacks. Their purpose was to break the concentration and defensive posture of his target so that the rogue could close his distance with his target. They were puny weapons when compared with the two handed long sword that the hedge knight, Crassus, carried. Then again, their potency lied in their skillful application, not the strength with which he wielded them.

Besides, it was no secret that assassins loved to get creative with poisons. It was a common opinion, after all, that all rogues fought dirty – as they did. The masters of the craft, however, insisted that they preferred to fight smart and end their battles quickly. It was a statement that the liberal use of poisons that would slowly and torturously kill a man over days, sometimes weeks, even, would surely put in doubt.

But the crowning jewel of his arsenal was a pair of flintlock pistols that the roguish man carried strapped to his chest. As far as weapons went they were excellent feats of craftsmanship. Although the pistols took more time to reload than other conventional ranged weapon, their killing potential was well worth the effort. They also afforded their owner an air of wealth about him, as gunpowder was something of a rarity this far south. The sight of a pistol – let alone two – was a costly but quick way of showing off one’s status, if a little brash.

He was not, however, a charming man. Kaleb’s face was sunken and the look in his eyes gave off the impression that he was constantly hung over, perhaps even teetering on the death’s door. It was the look of someone far too intimate with killing – both, quickly and slowly. He was the kind of man one would pray not to bump into in a secluded alleyway. Alone. At night… Where no one could hear you scream.

Melvin harbored no love for Kaleb. Out of all of his flawed brothers in arms, the roguish man would definitely come in last for any redeeming traits in the eyes of the Temple. But, as far as picking his comrades went, Melvin was also a pragmatic man.

His thought pattern for keeping him in the party was very simple: He was a proficient assassin – good. The rogue in question was also known to openly mock the gods and was rumored to have consorted with the demons, which was heavily frowned upon by the Temple to say the least – bad.

And then there were the rumors of him engaging in criminal acts far worse than foul murder – rituals and pleasures that any godly man would find less than palatable. Kaleb had never outright admitted to such rumors being true, but given his character, Melvin did not find it hard to believe them.

On a bright side, he always needed money. That was a big consideration, as it meant that Melvin could buy the rogue’s loyalty easily enough. A murderous sociopath was a useful friend to keep in any mercenary band, after all.

In the end it mattered little that Kaleb was a raging alcoholic; a sadistic, sarcastic jerk when around a campfire and completely indifferent towards Melvin’s devotion to the Temple. Sure, there seemed to be more negatives than positives when he summed them up, but the one thing mattered above all else was that the rogue did not care about who the target was as long as he was paid well enough to kill the man. Or woman. Or worse.

Right now, however, Melvin was left feeling rather disappointed at the lack of effort exhibited by his comrade. “I thought you would have gone ahead of me by now,” he remarked and looked to Crassus for support on this issue.

“A shameful display,” Crassus backed him up. “Have you turned craven?”

A rogue would usually work as the eyes and ears of the group, but Kaleb had been lagging behind this time.

Kaleb jiggled a leather pouch on his belt. Whatever sum of money was inside made for a delicious sound as the rogue rattled his wallet.

“Oh, it’s just that there are so many shiny things to find in an old place like this,” he said. “Nobody will miss them…” Kaleb’s voice was coarse and low. It was a drunkard’s voice with just a few sprinkles of murderous sociopath added to the mix.

“Besides, someone has to look out for our ‘unplanned’ expenses. Say, whenever Crassus decides to visit a brothel.

Break tables and chairs, my dear friend, not the whores. Furniture is less expensive to replace.”

The rogue’s priorities disgusted Melvin. “Still, can’t you leave your looting until after we have accomplished our mission?” he asked. “Need I remind you of the importance of this job? Lord Steinfeld has promised me a small fortune for our work. All that we need is to finish off the last remnants of House Rotwald. This one last job could set us up for life.”

“We still have to confirm Victorian’s death,” Crassus interjected in a stout voice. He sounded noble as he spoke. Almost honorable… “You should have already located him for us. It would be a shame if we let the undead get to him first.”

Kaleb shrugged. “Where’s the hurry, Crassus?” he asked. “He ain’t escaping from us now. You should just be content with cornering him.”

He rubbed the flat side of his dagger against the sleeve of his leather vest polishing it. “Besides, I can’t fight the undead the way you do, meat head. My poisons don’t work on them.” Kaleb examined the reflection of the knight’s helmet on the smooth shining surface of his dagger.

If something was not done quickly, then the situation could deteriorate into yet another argument between these two, like it usually would. Sensing danger Melvin stepped in to change the subject of the conversation.

“I believe it is time to move on, wouldn’t you two agree?” he asked.

Melvin was the titular leader of their group, but most of the time his orders were regarded as mere suggestions by his less devout followers.

Luckily for Melvin, his comrades did not object. This time…

With Crassus taking the lead, their party advanced through the hallway, clearing any rooms that they came across. It was not long until they were confronted by yet more of the undead residents of the crypt.

“Leave this place!” a shrieking voice cried through the darkness.

A party consisting of eight skeletons emerged from the shadows in an effort to block the way ahead. Among them one skeleton stood out in particular. An undead mage wearing blue robes took up position at the rear of the pack and addressed the intruders.

“This is no place for mortals,” the skeleton mage warned them. “Turn back, if you wish to live.” He then raised his hands to strike home his intent. Arches of blue lightning jumped around the hallway as the mage displayed his power in an attempt to intimidate his opponents.

“Ugh,” Crassus sighed in disdain. “The only thing worse than a living mage…” He glanced back over his shoulder at Melvin. “A little help with this one?”

Melvin nodded and raised his staff. He advanced past the knight to shield him from the undead mage.

With Melvin at his side, Crassus approached on the undead creatures with his sword poised for the strike.

“Hold your breath!” Melvin commanded and channeled his arcane power into the staff. The chamber around them grew ice cold and deathly silent as the priest broke the veil between this world and the Void.

“Fools!” the undead mage shrieked and directed his spell at the knight. “[Lightning]!”

It is said that magic is a power deeply rooted in the realm of the Oblivion – loud and chaotic in nature. The Void, however, was its polar opposite – silent and calm. The Oblivion was the realm of creation, but the Void… the Void was the realm of death, and devourer everything that was offered. And whenever the two were brought together it was the Void that reigned supreme.

The blue bolt of energy shot forth from the mage’s fingers towards the charging knight, but dissipated just before reaching the intruders. The magic was unable to resist the presence of the Void that the priest channeled around him.

In one wide swing Crassus sent four of the eight skeletons back to the afterlife as his weapon shattered their bodies upon impact. A second swing followed and now the undead mage stood alone just a few steps away from the raging warrior.

The mage channeled raw energy into his fingers and reached out for the warrior to deliver the touch of death, but the magic sizzled as his hands were lopped off by the attacker’s sword. The undead spell caster was left gawking at his ruined arms. Then Crassus cleaved his body in half from head to groin with one final attack.

Their encounter had lasted only a brief moment, but it had ended decisively in the favor of the living, with Crassus now standing triumphant over the scattered up remains of his foes.

The exploration of the crypt could now continue. Moving from one room to the next they cleared the catacombs of their undead residents in search of Victorian’s remains. It was an easy task for Melvin, who could wield magic with impunity. Crassus made quick work of any undead foe that was unlucky enough to get in his way. And Kaleb… Well, Kaleb picked over the dead bodies for any valuables that might still be clinging to their ancient bones such as necklaces, pendants or the occasional ring. Though he did warn the group of the approaching undead moments before they themselves could notice them. At the very least, Kaleb made it look like he was putting some sort of effort into it.

Their advance was quick and in a short while they arrived at a massive stone staircase that led deeper below the ground. At the point of descent they found four other members of their group already waiting for them.

The second party consisted of a mage and three warriors. The robed mage waved his staff at Melvin as the priest approached.

“Ah, Melvin – how nice of you to finally join us. Do you need to rest up before we advance further?” The mage sounded like he was mocking the priest, but his face was stern. Perhaps it was a quirk of his voice?

“I think we have just about scoured every corner on this floor,” he said. “I am pretty sure that the boy has delved deeper or otherwise we would have found something by now.

I have to commend him on making it this far alone. The Rotwald boy has a strong will to live, after all.”

The priest scowled at the suggestion of praising Victorian. “Is there any reason why you haven’t already gone after him?” he asked.

The mage’s jeering expression turned serious. “I can’t.”

“And why is that?” Melvin asked.

“I sense a presence,” the mage said. “Something strange lurks down there… something far worse than the rabble we have been fighting so far.”

“Do you think there is a necromancer here?” Melvin asked.

“Now that would be interesting,” Kaleb said.

Crassus spat on the ground. “Not for me it wouldn’t.”

“So what is it?” Melvin asked.

“Something powerful dwells down there,” the mage said, “something fierce.” He gestured at the four warriors that were huddled together around one of the braziers for warmth. “It wouldn’t take a great spell caster to channel the fires of the Oblivion, but that does raise the possibility of demonic involvement.”

“Perhaps I was wrong to judge you so quick,” Melvin said. He found himself agreeing with the mage’s choice to gather the party up first before descending further into the realm of the undead.

“Then we shouldn’t waste any more time,” Melvin suggested. He nodded towards the staircase and the group gathered around the point of descent.

The stairs reached at least five to six floors deeper than the level they were currently on. It was only an estimate since the bottom was shrouded in darkness.

The face of the blue robed mage suddenly twitched. His expression turned sour. “I sense the creature drawing closer,” he announced.

Melvin considered the order of their advance and summoned an orb of radiant light to examine the descent. As the priest lit up the path before him in an orange light a beast made its presence known to the intruders. The mysterious creature let off a terrifying roar, causing Melvin to lose his focus. The orb of light in in his hand grew dim and then disappeared completely as the priest tried to come back to his senses.

“RAAAWRR!” a deafening roar echoed through the crypt. It was so loud that it made the adventurers flinch.

The men backed off from the staircase and looked to one another with terror stricken eyes.

“Is that–” Melvin mumbled. He could hardly believe what he was seeing.

A massive horned demon slowly emerged from the darkness below. His presence became more and more terrifying with every step he took as the beast’s body was revealed piece by piece to the intruders.

First the horns, then the wide, scar covered shoulders – he was clearly taking his time with climbing the stairs to leave a lasting first impression on Melvin’s party.

The demon’s heavy footsteps echoed through the crypt.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Fresh – Meat,” he growled in a voice that instilled dread into the hearts of the seasoned mercenaries.

Melvin’s courage sank. “A–a demon, in a palace like this?” he whimpered in disbelief. The priest braced his staff for support.

“G–ge–get into position!” he ordered in a pitched voice.

Melvin started backing off to place himself behind the warriors in his group, but they themselves appeared to be no more willing to stand their ground than he was. So, instead of arranging their ranks so that the magic casters would be protected by the warriors, their entire party timidly backed away from the staircase into a spread out crescent formation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The demon’s head rose up above the final step and he peered into the chamber beyond. “It’s been so long since I’ve had such a feast!” he proclaimed. The bestial creature bared his teeth and welcomed the interlopers before him with a slow throaty laugh. “He, he, he…”

This is unbelievable! A real, living demon. A demon! In a necromancer’s lair!

Melvin gathered the last shreds of his courage in an attempt to bolster his men. “We have the demon outnumbered–”

“To the Oblivion with this!” Kaleb interrupted him. The assassin clearly lacked the nerve to face such a fearsome creature.

“No, Oblivion take that thing!” Melvin snapped back at Kaleb. “We can do this! It’s just a single demon!”

He looked around to gather support from the others. They had the numbers to take the beast on, Melvin was certain of it. In his mind the only thing that they truly lacked was willingness.

The other members of his party appeared less certain of their odds of winning – no, surviving. Yet, they still hesitated to either advance or fall back.

Even as Melvin made his preparations for the battle, he still quivered from the adrenalin that was rushing through his blood. Every fiber in his body was screaming to him: ‘run’.

By now, the crimson monster was only a few steps away from having fully ascended the staircase. He roared loudly and followed up with another mocking gripe in his booming voice. “Have you any last–”

The demon’s foot slipped on the worn stone steps and it fell forward.

BAM!

A cloud of dust was sent scattering through the air as the massive creature flopped onto the stone floor, smashing his teeth in.

Melvin’s jaw dropped. He stared in disbelief at the menacing presence as it hectically grappled for support.

Too terrified to act, the mercenaries looked on in silence, waiting for what was to come next.

“GODS BE DAMNED!” the demon exclaimed with furious anger. The irony of his phrasing was likely lost on him.

Dazed from the impact, the demon got up and shook his head. “I bit – my tongue!” he complained. The beast’s voice seemed somewhat off from when he had spoken before.

The towering creature patted the dust from his red skin. “Every single damn time!” he complained. “Why can’t I be cool like the Master?”

The demon directed his attention back to the interlopers. He addressed them in the same deep tone from before, only now it was a little lacking in the terror department.

“I’m sorry guys,” the demon said. “I know that I was building this up to be an epic fight, but, trust me; it was not my intention for it to go down like this.

If you could just look past this little blunder, I am sure, that we can still have a pretty decent battle. What do you say?” His fanged mouth parted in a questioning smile.

Coming from a vicious looking demon it was a terrifying expression.

Melvin turned to his comrades for a confirmation of what he was witnessing right now. “Am I hallucinating?” he asked. This chatty demon was not what he had been expecting from the first sight at all.

“You see,” the demon explained while cracking his arms and shoulders. He then licked his teeth as if to check if any were missing or broken. “I would usually start off by intimidating you, as I just did. Then I would taunt you and your brave leader would respond by vowing to defeat me…” The demon glanced over the motley band of humans before him, stopping at the most imposing looking of the warriors, Crassus. He then pointed his long claws at him, “You would say something like, umm: I haven’t met a creature that I couldn’t defeat. Or: I eat ugly bastards like you for breakfast. You know. Stupid stuff like that.”

Crassus placed his armor clad thumb to his chest. “You… you want me to say that?”

“Well, something *like* that,” the demon said and shrugged. “Depends on your personality, really. Sometimes my opponents are too afraid to come up with anything clever.

Why, I remember this one time when a guy was so scared to face me that he outright jumped into a nearby river to drown himself. You know, instead of doing it the honorable way... At least I think he wanted to commit suicide, because it didn’t look like he could swim at all… Might have been the full plate mail armor that he was wearing, though.

Is it hard to swim in that thing?” the demon asked and looked around the room at the humans. “I don’t really know – you tell me.”

Nobody felt like chipping in, so the demon continued. “Anyway,” he said, “The guy must have had a change of heart as the cowardly man latched on to a boulder lying in the middle of the stream. Hung on for dear life, the poor bastard, with the current washing over him…

And I didn’t want to get wet either, so I ended up having to throw rocks at him until I landed one.”

The demon shook his head. “It was practically assisted suicide. How embarrassing.

On the bright side, I got really good at throwing stuff!”

Finished with his story, the demon cleared his throat, “Ehem, yes… Well, these things can happen, you know.

Good times…” he said and smacked his chops. “Good times.”

The demon once more pointed his claws at Crassus. “But, you know… you do you, little man.”

An uneasy moment of silence passed as the monster was apparently expecting Crassus to speak next. He then clicked his tongue and grimaced in disappointment, realizing that their conversation was going nowhere.

“Well, I ruined the mood anyway,” the demon said. “So you don’t really have to say anything. I mean, it would make this even more awkward, wouldn’t it?”

“But, he’s not even–“ Melvin muttered.

“Huh?” the demon turned his attention to the priest. “Oh! I see. So you are a group led by brains, not brawn. I can respect that.

Anyway,” he continued on with his rambling. “When you,” this time he pointed at Melvin, “Would say something inspirational and we would be done talking, an all-out battle would ensue and, well – khe, khemm – I would kill you all.”

The beast scratched his head, “At least that is how it usually goes. Oh! And sometimes we wouldn’t talk, but then it was just straight to the killing.”

“Are you serious?” Crassus asked in disbelief.

“Uh, which part are we at right now?” Kaleb interjected timidly, “The talking or the fighting?”

The demon examined the rogue’s pale expression. “We are still talking, little man,” he said. “But I am ready to go when you are.”

Melvin sighed in faint relief. This had to be the sorriest demon to ever walk the realms of men. He is not at all intimidating! We got really lucky for our first demon to be such an easy opponent.

“Take courage, brothers!” he said. “This thing is no match for us. We are the soldiers of the gods!”

“There we go–” the demon said and bared his fangs in a cruel smile.

“Let’s spill its guts!” Crassus added, bracing his blade with a newfound determination. The other warriors in their group joined in a chorus of curses and battle chants.

Only Kaleb remained quiet.

The growing resolve of the intruders brought an expression of great joy to the demon’s face. “Oh, goody! For a moment there I thought you would try to run–”

“Enough talk!” Melvin raised his staff to launch the first attack.

“[Holy Smite]!”

The beam of white light that he cast with his staff smashed into the demon, staggering him.

Having specialized in magic concerned with the healing of injuries and banishing of the undead, Melvin was going to be of little help against a creature of the Oblivion. That is why the simple kinetic spell of [Holy Smite] was his only effective attack.

The blue robed mage followed up the priest’s attack with a [Lightning] spell of his own.

The demon blocked the attack from striking his head by placing his right hand in front of it, but the [Lightning] appeared to be effective, as it made the creature wince in pain.

Two of the warriors charged at the beast from either side to avoid friendly fire from the casters. They both carried swords and a shield in their off-hand, so they had to get dangerously close for their weapons to reach the monster.

And that was exactly what the demon had been waiting for.

Still blocking the incessant magic attacks of the two spell casters with his right hand, he grabbed the warrior on his left by his legs and swung him like a giant mace, blowing away the other man assaulting him.

This display of strength appeared to have baffled the adventurers for a moment, as they failed to follow up with another charge.

The warrior in the demon’s left hand, unable to break free on his own, squirmed and begged for help from his comrades. This appeared to annoy the demon, as he proceeded to whack the hapless human’s head against the stone floor in a manner similar to a fisherman killing a fish.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The warrior’s life had been extinguished in an instant.

“Who’s next?” the demon asked.

Crassus stepped forward and raised his sword. “I will be your opponent, you foul creature!” He then proceeded to wave his massive weapon around in a display of finesse and bravado.

“Showing off, eh?” the demon grinned. “I too know some moves!”

He began waving the dead human around in his hands imitating Crassus. In spite of his own impressive size and the considerable weight of the dead body, the demon’s motions could have been said to be agile. The only problem was that his weapon was limp and tended for flail around uncontrollably; making it look like the demon was wielding a large armor-clad sausage.

Melvin stared on in disbelief as the two fighters before him were having a proverbial dick waving competition.

Are they both equally stupid? he wondered.

“You look like you have used a weapon before!” Crassus commended his adversary.

“Thank you,” the demon replied. “You are right, this is fun!”

He put a little too much effort into his next swing, breaking the spine of his weapon. Now it sagged even more, so the demon cast it aside and growled of disappointment.

“Are you done playing around?!” Melvin shouted at Crassus as the discarded corpse of his fellow warrior slid across the room. “Attack already!”

He cast a spell to create an opening for the knight: “[Holy Smite]!”

The demon was forced one step back as the beam of white light slammed into him.

“I will be your doom!” Crassus yelled as he charged the demon, cleaving his massive sword with all of his might.

The demon blocked the blow with the claws of his left hand, but the hedge knight pushed on, trying to tie down the beast. Melvin and the mage struck the beast repeatedly with their spells while the knight was keeping its left hand occupied. Meanwhile the other warriors danced back and forth with their quick attacks, forcing the demon to fend them off with his one remaining free hand. And, though their light strikes barely scratched the monster, they would more than suffice in the long run as their encounter had now turned into a battle of attrition.

From the priest’s perspective their strategy of tying down their massive opponent with multiple attacks at once appeared to be working. He took great pride in his own willingness to face this demon. For once there was even something to respect about his comrades.

“Do it now, Kaleb!” Melvin yelled, “Strike its eyes!”

He had tried to locate the rogue before giving him the orders, but the cowardly man was nowhere to be seen.

Hiding in the shadows?

“Strike now, Kaleb!” Melvin repeated his order.

There was no reply.

Amidst all the commotion the rogue had fled.

Melvin was overcome with rage. “That bastard! I will skin him alive for this!”

A part of the priest’s anger at Kaleb’s betrayal was channeled into the next spell, causing it to increase in power. As the white beam of light left the priest’s staff, however, it missed its mark and crashed in to the wall behind the demon, sending a good portion of the crushed stone scattering through the room in a shower of debris and smoke.

The crypt shook from the impact.

“Damn it!” The sudden spike in his emotion had cost the priest his focus. Control over his spell casting had suffered as a result of it.

Melvin withdrew from battle to regain his composure. In that brief moment he would have to rely on the other members of his group to keep the demon at bay.

The focus of the battle was now squarely on the Demon and the knight as they clashed in close combat.

“–Aaaaaaa!” Crassus yelled as he forced the blade upon the demon, his hands shaking from the exertion.

“–WRAAAAAAAAA!” the demon growled back at the warrior, his terrifying face warped from tension, as he struggled to push back the knight’s weapon with his claws.

“–Aaaaaaa!” Crassus pushed even harder, placing all of his human strength into his attack. He now stood face to face with his adversary, with nothing but the blade of his sword separating their burning looks.

“–WRAAAA– BLEEEEEH!” the demon belched fire from his mouth, setting the knight on fire.

The battle came to an abrupt end. The other warriors, terrified by what they had just witnessed, backed away from the demon in long strides.

The burning knight flailed around screaming for a moment longer, before the demon got tired of the commotion, grabbed Crassus, slammed him against the floor several times until the screaming stopped and threw the still flaming corpse down the staircase behind him.

The dead hedge knight sounded like a burlap sack full of iron cutlery as he bounced down into the dark depths of the lower crypt.

Clank! Badish! Clank… clank… clank…

The demon wiped his grinning face. “I’m terribly sorry about that.” He burped. “That was disgusting of me. I just had dinner and… yes– well. These things happen…”

Sickened by the smell of burnt flesh, Melvin covered his face with the sleeve of his robe. The odor left behind by Crassus lingered heavily in the crypt, but it did not seem to bother the demon himself.

Crassus… Melvin was overcome with sheer terror now that their strongest warrior had been so easily defeated.

“You are next, priest! Those divine spells of yours – I don’t like them.” The beast’s eyes glowed bright red, as he stepped forward to deal with the rest of the intruders. “No one is going to escape! I will slaughter you all and bathe in your blood!”

“Don’t lose hope!” the mage at Melvin’s side announced and raised his staff to conjure a spell. “Get out of my way!

[Wall of Frost]!” The mage pointed his staff towards the demon. The chamber floor before him grew cold and the faint traces of moisture in the air turned to snow heralding the sudden and unnatural drop in temperature.

Reacting to the mage’s conjuring of the elements, the demon quickly reached down at his feet and picked up one of the many pieces of stone left scattered throughout the room by the priest’s unsuccessful last attack.

The rock flew too fast for anyone to catch a proper glimpse of it.

“Huiii!” the mage huffed as his chest was crushed by the stone. It left the man spewing blood from his mouth as the impact sent him falling backwards. Dead – or soon to be – the mage collapsed on the stone floor without so much as a spoken word to express his pain.

“A frost spell would have been inconvenient,” the demon announced with a cheeky grin. “I am not exactly gracious on ice with these massive feet of mine and there is still so much left to do with you, guys!”

The few intruders that were still standing did so trembling in fear. In under a minute they had lost their two most powerful combatants and all semblance of courage along with it.

“Hey, priest!” The demon pointed his hand at the staircase behind him. “Can you resurrect people? I want you to bring that armored bloke back to life so I can fight him again.”

“Resurrect…” Melvin mumbled. I can barely heal people…

“Well,” the demon continued, “If you do, I will promise to fight without using my breath this time. Sounds fair? So, how about it?” He gave the rest of the warriors a casual glance over, “You guys can take a rest. I want you to give me all that you’ve got when we go in for a second round!”

An eerie silence settled over the battle scarred room as the humans finally realized just how desperately outclassed they were.

“You are taking too long,” an angry woman’s voice announced breaking the uncomfortable silence.

The demon searched the room for the speaker. “Silphi?”

Melvin looked around, but could see no one else in the room with them.

Having kept everyone guessing for a moment longer a pale banshee finally emerged from the wall and flew up to the demon. The look on her face was condescending and cold. “You overdid it. Again…”

She noted the adventurers in the room, but paid them no heed, continuing to scold the demon instead. “I will bathe in your blood… –Tsk! Really?”

“What? I thought it sounded cool!” the demon tried to justify his hesitation.

It was apparent that the banshee was not interested in his excuses. “Master will be angry if you let anyone escape! Don’t you realize how bad that would be for us?”

The demon bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I got carried away…” His low voice was filled with regret. The horned death incarnate warped his expression as if trying to mimic a sad puppy.

Though he might have genuinely felt bad, the murder-monster-puppy-from-hell act left little impression on the banshee. As for the adventurers, the sudden change in the demon’s persona only added to their confusion.

“Don’t ask for my forgiveness!” the banshee scolded the demon. “You can explain your actions to the Master later.”

“Hey, they had two magic casters in their group!” Lemmy objected. “Do you know how long I have been waiting around to fight someone so strong?”

But Silphi was having none of it. “Do your job, Lemmy!” she told him. “Getting distracted by new toys is not something that befits a demon in your position of responsibility.”

While the two monsters were busy arguing, one of the humans used the opportunity to sneak up behind the banshee ­– at least he thought he had – and made an attempt at striking her.

Just as the tip of the blade was about to reach her the ghostly woman spun around and flicked her hand in the man’s direction. As if hit by a charging bull, the armor clad warrior was blown back and slammed into the nearby wall. Firmly embedded into the cracked stone he let off a pain filled gargle before passing out.

“Such an insolent creature!” The banshee berated the unconscious man. “Can’t you see that we are talking over here? At least let me finish before you continue your little game!”

“Game…” Melvin muttered. This is a game for them? He was playing with us?

Silphi sighed wearily and turned her attention back to the demon. “Well, might as well turn your blunder into something usefully,” she told Lemmy. “Lord Boniface has instructed me to capture a few of the intruders alive – for interrogation. So if you could be so kind as to subdue these rude people…”

Having said her piece, the banshee headed down the hallway, towards the entrance of the crypt.

Melvin felt a terrible chill run down his spine as the woman flew past him. A ghost that does not fear a divine magic caster… How strong is that banshee?

“I will search the crypt for any stragglers,” Silphi called out as she distanced herself from Lemmy and his confused toys.

“I can always count on you, Silphi.” The demon bowed his head to the ghostly creature as she departed. “I will work hard to make the Master proud.”

Lemmy cracked his neck and knuckles while sizing up the remaining intruders with a mean gaze. “Now, where were we?” he asked. “Ah, yes – time for the second round!”

Screams of terror and pain echoed through the crypt for a short while longer as Lemmy pacified the unfortunate souls that had trespassed on this unholy ground tonight.