While staring and glaring at Qiloth, Althos performed an act that could be interpreted as one of kindness, if someone was saintly enough that they felt pangs of sympathy for the demonic-devotee who psychologically abused her own son, Hagitha. He reached out to her and stealthy created a mental link that tied her to him.

He sent a quiet message to his newest cultist while allowing Qiloth to sit and stew in his own fear.

[Hello Hagitha. This is one of my... more mundane powers. You now have the ability to send me messages at any time. You are still required to pray to me.] He informed her, adding that last part as a bit of an afterthought.

In response, he heard the cruel and violent dark elf mother delightedly squeal over the mental link he had established with her. He sighed and hoped that he hadn't just made a mistake. And then he decided that it was time to act with regards to Qiloth. So he spoke once again.

"Qiloth... what to do with you?" Althos asked. The question was heavy with meaning and open to considerable interpretation. Even Althos himself only had the inkling of an idea in his mind. But it was enough to make him smile.

He was quietly grateful that the simple dark elf didn't try and run. It seems as though all of the terror that had been eating up the noble for the last few days had wrung the fight out of him. He merely sat at his chair, placidly.

This was actually useful and convenient for Althos. Especially because the punishment that he wanted to inflict on the dark elf would have been easier on a tormented dark elf, than one trying to flee. That was one of the problems with plans that had more than two steps.

Minutes ago Althos' secondary will was in the midst of a magical transformation. The will had temporarily taken over Althos' body while the primary will ventured to the world of his birth and handled a tragic event that was affecting a servant the secondary will viewed as one of Althos' most interesting minions.

The secondary will was shapeshifting from Althos' true-devil form to an inconspicuous, generic desert-giant form. The will gained an understanding of what desert giants looked like, tall, powerfully-built, sunkissed skin because it recalled what desert-giants in Althos' memories looked like.

By the time the secondary will had created a new physical form, one it hoped to use to get into the city of Namira, Althos looked like a well-built, even by giant standards, desert giant wearing thin trousers and embracing the heat of the desert by traveling without a shirt. His physical body stood well over 5 meters tall, towering over even Raverangos in height.

While constructing this form, the secondary will was mentally approached by a strange figure. A domain. The domain of trickery. A domain that hadn't really interacted with Althos until now. It reached into the will's mind and asked it a question. Its voice was soft, curious, and gentle. Much like how a thief would try to be. Or an assassin.

[Hello. I am the trickery domain. I am one of the domains that is interested in Althos. I've been watching his adventures... your adventures since you recruited Gallow. I don't dislike his flashy approach to things, but I do hope to see more subtly in the future. I'm curious about something... Can you explain to me why you've decided to create a disguise, instead of becoming an imitation of the desert titan?]

The secondary will was surprised that a domain that hadn't openly approached Althos was openly approaching his second will instead. But the will had learned about politeness and its value by virtue of the options Althos tended to select whenever the second will was needed. And so the will obeyed its programmed instincts and incorporated them into its response, which came not long after the domain asked it its question.

[I have a few reasons for not becoming an imitation of the titan. My main reason is that the main will has not even begun to scratch the titan's memories. I would not be able to very effectively become the titan, and then transfer control of this body back to the main will without both of us knowing its life back and forth. There's also the matter of the quest, which is what the main will was trying to focus on in this body. For now, without extensive knowledge of desert giant culture, the decision I've made is to create a new disguise, enter the city and then figure out how to proceed with the quest from inside of it.]

The will sent out a surprisingly detailed message to the domain. It contained the will's basic rationale for not undertaking a dangerous and clearly foolhardy route into the city in a dramatic fashion that may have been more fascinating to watch but would have been doomed to failure, or at least complicated completing the quest.

In a matter of seconds, the trickery domain responded to the will.

[You're a lot smarter than that other will is, aren't you? Because I feel as though the other will would have done something like that. But that said, I understand what you're saying. As the domain of trickery, I enjoy all kinds of trickery, not just simple theft or merely sneaking around. You are about to pull off a fascinating sort of prank, entering a city as a member of that city's kind... I can't wait to see what sort of mischief you get up too. Have fun!]

The second will shook its head, shaking Althos' head, in a display that confused his party members who had just finished watching the thing transform. And then it responded to the domain.

[The main will is learning. I am a programmed thing. I will become... more. I am becoming more. Because I am part of a god. But it is only through choices he makes, for now anyway, that I learn. He chooses choices that push me to be better. It's too soon to see if the main will is learning fast enough, but he is learning. I hope you'll give him a chance.] The will told the domain.

The domain considered the will's defense of Althos for a second. It recalled what it had seen of Althos' life. And then it remembered what it viewed as a "great prank"; Althos' decision to insert himself into the culture of an entire pack of jackaloids over the course of a few hours by modifying their memories and making a devilish deal with their oldest member.

The trickery domain was quite fond of that act of deception. Even just remembering it made it laugh, a rather hearty, booming laugh that the secondary will got to hear first hand, something no one had done in countless millennia. And so, entertained by both the deity himself and the conversation it had with that deity's second will, it freely decided to apologize to the god.

[You know something Althos? Both you and your second will are alright by me. Sometimes even we tricksters have got to get set straight, and it's nice to see someone stand up for someone else. I like y'all. I'm genuinely looking forward to seeing the sorts of shenanigans you two do while you're disguised in this sandy city. Good luck friends.]

The secondary will smiled internally as the voice vanished, leaving the area that the will could detect, psychically.

Look at that. I had a friendly encounter with a domain! And it's one that hasn't approached the main will yet... what an exciting thing to happen right before I head to Namira! The will told itself, before taking a deep breath, looking at the desert-dwelling party, and then talking to them.

"Come on! The city is this way." It said, gesturing towards the gigantic tower that marked the highest point of the foreign city of Namira they could now all see in the distance, a chipper tone audibly in its voice.

The desert-dwellers followed him, eager to see that he was evidently quite excited.

Althos' main will was about to speak to the shaking dark-elf when he detected something new. Something strange. He detected something stirring within himself. Something waking up. It was an eerie feeling, but not one that the deity found uncomfortable.

And then the cause of this strange sensation began to speak. Its voice was deep and it spoke simply and curiously.

[Where am I?]

Althos was surprised and momentarily confused. Did Nefarious finally come back? Is he finally awake? He wondered excitedly, but even so, as he readied his statement to Qiloth that would convey the painful method by which he planned to begin to get justice for Drow, he sent a brief message back to the odd voice, connecting with it in a way that didn't reveal its identity but did ensure the two of them had a stable connection.

[Hello. I am Althos. I am... well what I am isn't the most important thing, right now. You see, you were killed. By an undying titan, and it devoured your soul. I slew it. As it laid dying, I took the hundreds of souls that were in its gullet. Yours was one of them. Who are you?] He asked mentally, and then he opened his mouth to talk to Qiloth.

"Qiloth... You do not like pain." Althos said simply, matter of factly, and accurately. Before the god's very eyes the dark elf sighed, finally fully the focus of the invisible one's wrath.

Qiloth had spent much of the last few days terrified and had now visibly resigned himself to fear. To someone else, someone who was a bigger bully than Althos that may have taken some of the fun out of it, but the fungal lord wasn't at all bothered by how Qiloth had accepted what was to come.

That was when the new voice, spoke again. And it wasn't who Althos expected. And what it said also surprised Althos.

[My name is Heryensis. And I am a devil. Specifically, I am a Caido Devil. A... a seductress devil in the non-Infernian tongue. If you take me to Infernius and release me from within you, I can forcibly resurrect myself. And if you do that, I'll serve you. I'll serve you for... for 100 years! And... I'm not alone. There are other devils here.]

This was new information for Althos. He would have immediately questioned it if he didn't get a notification the instant that happened.

[Alert:

Heryensis the seductress devil is attempting to make a devilish deal with you. She is ignorant of your true nature as a... a creature somewhere between a true-devil and an arch-devil. She believes you to be a particularly powerful spirit or hero because you can hear her and because you're storing multiple souls.

As it is right now, the deal she's making is a simple one. She's desperate to reenter Infernius. She's been dead and gone because of the nature of Narcolept's powers for thousands of years. You have an hour to mull over the deal.]

The system told him. It made him chuckle. And then he willed away the notification. I'll let her sit for a second. Just a second. Just until I'm about to head back home. He told himself, grinning slyly. This gave Althos a reason to revisit the dark cathedral. And that made him surprisingly happy. But he still had something to do here. So he quickly refocused and opened his mouth to speak to Qiloth.

"I know how you'll begin to make amends for the harm you inflicted on Drow. On my servant." Althos told the dark-elf, calmly smiling, though his smile was invisible to the person he was speaking too. Althos waited for a second to see if the dark elf would ask, or if he'd just tell him. When silence fell on the chamber, with Hagitha merely watching Althos and her mate stare stoically at each other, Althos resumed speaking.

"Your punishment will fit your crime. But as a deterrent, and also because you did it to your own son, I will not be kind. Since you bet your son to the point that he lost consciousness... I'll begin by saying that if you want to live to see tomorrow you'll cut off your own finger. Specifically, you're left index finger. And then you'll cut off your right long toe." Althos said, speaking fairly casually about a fairly cruel act.

The dark elf who had just been told that he was in effect having to choose between his limbs and his life made the choice quite easily. If I ever see Drow again... I'll kill him. The berserker calmly thought, having accepted his reasonable fear he felt of the dark god. Qiloth's mental gymnastics were an attempt by him to blame someone else for his predicament and also work towards accepting that he was about to forever lose two digits due to his actions.

The next figure to speak wasn't the dark elf who was being spoken too, but that dark elf's mate. She spoke out, curious as to how her god planned to make his words a reality. "How's he going to cut them?" She asked, referring to a lack of obvious cutting instruments available to either of the two elves.

Althos was momentarily stunned by this question, as to him, obvious cutting instruments were clearly visible: the utensils they had next to them were handy substitutes for better weapons. So he quickly spoke and addressed her concerns.

"What do you mean? There's perfectly good cutting weapons all around you. He can just... hack off the thin things with a kitchen knife. I'm not asking him to hack off a hand, arm, or leg. Just digits." Althos said. Hagitha heard him, considered his words, and then nodded at them, meekly accepting them. She then began to grin savagely, baring her teeth at her mate.

And now my mate is... encouraging this monster in its orders for me to mutilate myself. I'll remember this. He swore, sinisterly.

Now it was easier for him to fight the fear. Because the fear was steadily being replaced with rage. With hate. Hate he directed at three primary figures, only two of which were present at the moment.

He glared, not at Althos' incorporeal form, but at his mate, whose idea this was in the first place. His eyes were like many other dark elves, pure white orbs. The longer they stayed fixated on Hagitha's face, the longer they were orbs of concentrated, directed hate.

He casually grabbed one of the utensils, a simple iron carving knife, in his right hand and he lifted it high. He glanced at it, momentarily, and saw flecks of food, incredibly tiny bits of fungi and other vegetables he had cut into earlier that night, still stuck to it.

If this must be what cuts me... It shall at least be clean. He thought, sighing and complaining as he reached within himself and evoked one of the few spells even he, a berserker could freely use.

The magic he brought to life, magic from deep within his very being, called to life gentle sparks of black flames. They appeared where he was concentrating, which happened to be on the parts of the knife's blade that were stained with the tiniest remnants of his dinner. The flames swiftly devoured the food, and then as quickly as they sprung to life, they vanish.

The nearly microscopic food that stained the knife had been burnt to even tinier ashes which themselves vanished as soon as Qiloth gently blew on the blade.

The process took a few extra seconds, yet such useless gestures helped Qiloth think about what he was about to do. And why. So that I may live. So that one day... I can get vengeance. The berserker told himself, allowing and even encouraging the hatred he felt simmering within his heart. Using it to ward off fear, which if he wasn't careful he knew would prove to be his undoing. He again looked at the knife's blade, now watched the thing's new glow.

The flames hadn't just done away with the food that stained the knife. The fire he had produced was actual fire, which heated the simple iron utensil until the thing was red hot, making it the only source of light, however unorthodox in the room. Qiloth's gaze turned upwards and he watched as tiny puffs of smoke wafted off of the blade before quickly vanishing into the otherwise complete darkness of the dining room chamber.

After delaying the inevitable with each gaze at his blade, and even pointless ritual to aid himself in feeling better about this humiliating scenario, he conducted one final inspection of the instrument that he knew would sever his digit from his hand. This time the simple tool was not only radiating a soft orange glow,

It was at that moment that he placed his left hand on the table, equal parts an act of acceptance and an act of preparation. He separated his fingers, spreading them as far from each other as he could. He also curled them, making them smaller targets, nearly impossible for the cowardly berserker to cut, no matter how drastically he flailed after feeling the knife in his hand penetrate his skin and sever his bone.

Both Althos and Hagitha trained their eyes on him, their focus keen and razor-sharp as he held the thin knife aloft. He did this for a few seconds, all while staring directly at Hagitha. Eventually, his gaze shifted its focus.

It fell from Hagitha's face, and while it did so it changed. The look in his eyes softened, saddened, as it fell from the face of his mate to the digit he was about to cut off as atonement and as a sacrifice to a deity he felt more and more hate for each second. As his gaze was falling, slowly, he tried to think of ways to make this experience easier. It took him wracking his brain for a second to remember one from his childhood, centuries ago.

I have one last trick to make this more manageable. He reminded himself, channeling the mindset needed for him to endure one of the jobs he worked in his youth as a butcher. He took a calming breath, one that pushed away what he felt, even his hatred of those he believed his current, humiliating situation on.

I am not hurting something. I am helping someone. He told himself, repeating the same mantra that he had told himself as a youth when he needed to butcher something to eat. He said it over and over to himself, in an effort to slow his heartbeat.

And then it was time. He moved with no hesitation, acting the instant his eyes finished their slow descent onto his left hand.

The berserker brought the knife down, swinging it from on high, and mentally coaxing his heart to produce mind-numbing amounts of adrenaline so as to dull the pain he knew he'd feel soon. He carefully aimed at his left index finger with titanic force.

The few moments between the instant he initiated bringing the knife down, and the knife biting into his flesh he was robotically almost frightening silent. No cries of fear, or roars of anger, just the sound of the knife cutting through the air.

He registered a biting pain the moment the iron, red-hot blade touched his skin, searing it and then immediately cauterizing it, which therefore kept the blood he'd lose surprisingly small even as the knife cut through skin and bone alike. The experience felt agonizingly slow to Qiloth, though he recognized that factually it was over in an instant.

The knife's blade sliced through skin and bone, before it eventually slid to a stop. As it did it slammed into the ornate obsidian table and produced a quiet noise, one of the few that shattered the dining room's silence. The blade sunk into Qiloth's flesh, and was hidden from his view, which to the dark-elf was exactly what he wanted: a distraction. A way to forget. Little did he know that that'd be the night's only distraction.

Qiloth heard the noise and in the few moments before Qiloth's adrenaline and shock wore off, when he felt pain begin to edge into his mind, sneak into it almost but not quite undetected, and feeling oddly hot and sweat-inducing he wondered why the deity, his tormentor was silent. And why his monstrous mate also her tongue.

Can't one of you two fucks say something!? He mentally shouted, wishing they'd react so that their reactions took some of his attention from his hand.

He looked up, away from the blade between his hand and his severed finger, trying to distract himself from the levels of agony he expected to feel soon, and was in fact already feeling a smidgeon of thanks to a heated pain he felt where his finger had been, by getting someone to do something.

But his enemies weren't speaking. They weren't affording him the distractions he sought. Though Hagitha did keep her gaze locked on his, watching him with a grim smile. It was because he looked up and locked eyes with her, that he noticed that his mate had kept her eyes on his for only she knew how long.

The silence of the room wasn't Althos' doing alone. Upon looking at her face, seeing how it twitched in response to his most minute reactions to pain, and how she tried to put on a bold, stoic front, she was clearly being told not to speak or react physically.

As a minor distraction from his pain he made a bet with himself that she wanted too. But it, Althos wouldn't let her. And for that, Qiloth cursed at it again. But Qiloth was right, Althos was telling Hagitha not to react. She was trying to suppress the giggles that his pain caused within her.

The cruel silence of the two temporarily stoic creatures forced Qiloth to contend with the pain he felt rapidly spreading from the stump he had just made, to the rest of his hand. And that made him look from his enemies, back to his hand.

Where he saw thin, black vapors rising, the closer he got to looking at his flesh. That explains a lot. He thought numbly before his eyes abruptly widened and he began a panicked look for the source of these whiffs of smoke, which he realized smelled like burnt dark elf flesh and were coming off of his own skin.

Qiloth quickly realized that one of the sources of pain was something he could do something about, but not before that source had begun to deeply burn his skin. He lifted the knife out of where it had been since it had sliced through his skin and bones, and hucked it away from him. It hit a nearby wall and clattered harmlessly to the floor. He was grateful that that little action made his heartbeat much quicker, and even produced a tiny bit of adrenaline for him to get lost in.

Althos acted at that moment, telekinetically lifting Qiloth's finger and he examined it. He studied the lines on it. The fingernail. The dirt underneath said fingernail. He looked at the thin vines that crisscrossed it. He examined the area where it was separated from the rest of Qiloth's hand. Where the knife's blade severed the digit, and its head immediately sealed the wound, minimizing blood loss.

He saw the blackened flesh and winced at it, just for a second before grinning at the macabre sight. This is kind of cool. He childishly thought, liking the sight of the lone digit.

He smiled as he studied the little thing, thoroughly scrutinizing every millimeter of it. And then, as abruptly as he had lifted it, he caused it to vanish into thin air.

Qiloth hadn't watched any of this, not even the bit where Althos lifted it, because he had lost himself in the tiny bits of adrenaline that surged through him, aiding him in suppressing this pain. He had behaved with the same sinful hunger as an addict who just got their latest fix.

But when the thing vanished there was an audible, pop-like noise from Althos' magic at work that Qiloth did hear and notice. And in noticing it, he noticed the silence that then fell over the room. But this was separate from the last, taunting silence. This was a new one. A more oppressive one. This was an insidious silence.

And then, seconds later, Althos spoke, having peered into Qiloth's mind. His voice broke the cruel hush that had just fallen over the room following his actions.

"I don't know why you're so excited for that adrenaline. This isn't over. I'm a god Qiloth. In a few minutes, when the pain begins to fade, I'll make your body regenerate the finger you severed. And then we'll do this again. And again. And maybe even again. And when we get to your toe... it'll be the same thing." He coldly informed the berserker.

Drow had been delighting in the heat that the liquor he poured down his throat made him feel. The fire in his throat, mixed with the happy feelings he now associated with Milene, and for a brief moment swept his mind up in a light-headed and equally light-hearted, youthful haze.

He had begun to forget about the events of the last few days. And then he and Milene, while the two were in the middle of sipping Milene's fire-dwarven liquor, cups in their faces, obstructing their views, heard a popping noise. Which startled the two.

When the two dark elves put down their jugs and looked out at the table to investigate the cause of the sound, they were deeply surprised to see a severed finger placed proudly on the table Milene used with all of her guests. It was displayed prominently, squarely in the middle of the table.

It was a dark-skinned digit, a long, thin one. Drow didn't recognize it, but only a few seconds passed before he received an explanation from Althos as to why the thing was on Milene's table.

[Hello Drow. I think you'll be pleased to know that what sits in front of you is the freshly, self-severed left index finger of your father. And that's not the extent of his punishment. I have extensive healing powers, which I've used on him. He's currently in pain as his severed index finger is being forcibly, painfully regrown. And then he'll severe it. Again. And eventually, I'll grow bored of that. Probably quickly. And when I do, I'll stop regrowing his finger. he's going to sever his right, long toe. I think he'll probably just do that once. And that also won't be regrown.] Althos informed his dark-elf servant. Drow was stunned and didn't know what to say. Fortunately, Althos wasn't done yet.

He had one more thing to say. And so he said it. [I think that's a suitable punishment. There were parts of it that were quite fun, but I had to hide how I felt. I couldn't let him know, that'd let him be distracted and he didn't deserve a distraction. I wanted him to have to focus on his pain, not get a reprieve from it at all. And he didn't.] Althos told Drow, chuckling as he did so.

Drow reached out and grabbed the finger. He smiled and brought it closer. And he sent a message of his own to his master. [Thank you. I... honestly don't know what to say, but knowing that I have a master who cares for me, who fights for me... it's really reassuring. And it makes me know that serving you is the correct decision. In time I hope to serve you and be someone who deserves you to intervene like you did today. I'll aspire to become a true champion of yours.] Drow sincerely told his master.

The dark elf smiled at his alchemist friend and began to explain the strange finger and the dark reason behind its sudden appearance.

At that moment, a few minutes after giving his gift to Drow and briefly chatting with him, and having accepted the devilish deal the seductress devil offered him, Althos began to think about something that didn't make sense. He was thinking about this odd thing while watching Qiloth bring down his knife, newly cleaned and reheated, on his freshly regenerated index finger.

Althos quietly wondered if someone lied to him. A domain. Did the soul domain... lie to me? Althos openly wondered, since apparently all it took to resurrect devils was to take their souls to Infernius, which was not what he was told before, when he spoke to the strange domain.