Burn-Saw began moving with urgency while whispering to his master.

Thundar’s stomach dropped.

Things were about to go to hell.

Literally.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me ladies,” he laughed. “I gotta go and get my friends together for uh…a party.”

“Oooh,” one of his admirers pouted. “We were hoping you’d show us another impression of the mighty Kaz-Mowang.”

“Of his stamina.” The word dripped from the other female demon’s mouth.

Thundar’s brain felt like it was turning to mush, ready to explode with a mixture of feelings that were being highly encouraged by the mania-field.

But, one quick look at Burn-Saw, and a long deep breath, brought him back to reason.

The fact that succubi had a nasty habit of draining the life and soul from their mortal mates—according to the last book on demonology he’d read—was also enough to kill any spicy ideas that he’d been starting to entertain.

“Later, ladies,” he lied, “Can’t disappoint the real Kaz-Mowang.”

The minotaur quickly made his way to Guntile and Ezerak who were watching the commotion brewing between the newly arrived demon, and his guards.

“We’ve got a problem.” Thundar whispered, taking the pair aside and nodding towards Burn-Saw murmuring to his increasingly incredulous master. “See that scarred up guy over there? He knows Alex and he can probably sense him too. We’re gonna get made.” He adjusted his mask, making sure his face was covered should Burn-Saw catch sight of him.

Ezerak looked at Guntile.

Their eyes hardened.

“Orders?” the half-orc asked.

Thundar set his jaw, keeping his attention on Burn-Saw who was leading his master toward a door.

“We follow ‘em, flank ‘em and kill ‘em before they get to Alex and the others. Then—”

An earth shattering explosion stopped his words. The floor bucked like an enraged dragon, nearly throwing the trio to the ground. Shrieks cascaded through the ballroom.

The roar from an enormous beast seemed to shake the entire domain.

“What is happening?” the master of festivities cried. “Are we under attack?”

Mania sparked, running through the room in chaotic waves, violent festivities colliding with the growing emergency, meeting in a spike of wild emotions. Even the native demons began twitching with intense feelings; ranging from excitement, to fear, to rage and more.

“An invader is among us!” Burn-Saw shouted. “Deep within this palace! We—”

Another explosion stopped his words, rocking the palace, sending screams rising beyond the walls.

Manic energy filled the chamber.

“That came from outside!” one of Kaz-Mowang’s guard captains roared. “To the maze walls! Secure the grounds!”

The room erupted in chaos.

A section of Ezaliel’s palace walls exploded, raining rubble onto the city. Masses of stone, sparkling gems, and precious metals poured onto structures far below, crushing entire buildings in great clouds of dust.

Demons screamed, some laughed.

Fire erupted from windows and smoke billowed from a cavernous hole in the palace.

And through that smoke?

A storm of violence raged.

Baelin floated in a tempest of force, flame, and lightning, calmly watching his summoned engeli shred demons with their blazing swords. Any fiend brave enough to try penetrating the archwizard’s barrier melted away, reduced to smog and sludge.

Baelin was now alone with the lean, bulbous, jackal-headed seneschal. The arrogant demon hovered helplessly before him, limbs taut, gripped by invisible chains.

“Do you know how many decades I have aged listening to your ramblings?” the chancellor snorted. “A lifetime of bore and torment compressed into a handspan of minutes. So, as I often say, one good turn deserves another.”

With a flick of his wrist, a portal opened in mid-air. Within the ragged hole, thousands of hungry weapons danced: spears, swords, axes, knives and maces crafted with serrated blades and hooks that curved like claws, gleamed.

“The Living Armoury of Koza-Kas.” Baelin grinned as the demon’s eyes widened. “Worthless, you called my students’ lives. Well, let us see what your life is worth to the armoury. Let us see how quickly your candle is snuffed out. Though, I warn you…the armoury, though famished…does enjoy toying with its food.”

With a wave of dismissal, he cast the screaming, long-winded demon through the portal, sealing it behind him.

Then abruptly uttered a word of power, erecting a layered barrier of force, deflecting a beam that had erupted from the rubble, sending it into the carpet of shattered glass scattered across the floor.

Air shimmered and the abyssal knight Ezaliel burst from the rubble, blazing in power, roaring his outrage.

And his whole domain joined in the sound.

“I knew it would come to a fight between you and I wizard!” Sickening lights played through the demon’s gem-like body, shimmering and writhing with wrath and power. “But a surprise attack? Truly?”

“Just as you led a surprise attack against my school and students. Why would you deserve otherwise?” The archwizard growled. “As I speak you are summoning allies, are you not? Well bring them here at once so that you can all be cast into the void together!”

With a snap of his fingers, Baelin’s jewels exploded in flaring light, the armoury concealed within was revealed, sheathing him in full battle garb.

Bronze chainmail armour.

His mighty staff.

A hammer blazing with captured sunlight.

Two animated, floating shields.

But, Ezaliel had made his own preparations.

Space twisted as demonic forces dropped through a host of planes as if the many domains were one, creating a shuddering reality that welcomed powerful fiends to the abyssal knight’s own.

The first to appear was tiny: an abyssal knight that was a humanoid no bigger than a human thumb, and held aloft by a pair of rapidly buzzing wings. Though small, it burned with a power that saw the realm shuddering around it.

The second, towered in height, a female demon as tall as a mature tree, with flesh of rotted wood and fungal matter so foul, it threatened to turn even Baelin’s stomach sour. Sprouting from decaying flesh—like malignancies—flowers weighed down by venomous dew, throbbed.

A third seemed closer to human in some ways: with hair the colour of straw, the facial features of a man of astounding beauty, and clad in ivory armour that sparkled with the light of a thousand mornings. In one hand was a sword of the deepest midnight, and in the other, a shield like starlight encased in force.

Yet—when it grinned—it's maw overflowed with bloody thorns seemingly plucked from an entire forest of brambles.

The last was an amphibious creature: a blazing salamander standing upright on two hind legs, its skin dripping an oily substance that blazed when it touched the ground, burning with heat strong enough to melt iron.

Following close behind these abyssal knights, armies of demons boiled from a tear in space, each more foul than the last. The chamber that Baelin had been shown to, and even the sky above the demon’s palace, was soon filled with Ezaliel’s allies.

He hissed. “Behold my allies, wizard. We are mountains standing tall beneath a vast sky compared to the feebleness of a puny pebble like yourself, and make no mistake, that if I so desire, I can call upon my lord and master. Now, kneel, or you will wish that destruction is all we bring to you.”

Baelin smiled. “That is an excellent line, Ezaliel, I think I shall take it for my own, but with one modification: Unlike you, I am no lackey. Understand me clearly, demon, we have no master above us. Perhaps, it is as you say and you aremountains beneath your sky. But, know this. We are the sky.”

Reality tore open around him.

Magun-Obu stepped into the demon’s world, leaving darkness in his wake.

Sanii manifested in a flash of lightning and thunder, her metal skin crawling with thousands of minute forms.

Anaxadar appeared in a pillar of flame that raged like an angry sun.

And Cra simply was, standing in a space as though she had been there from time’s first breath.

“One or five,” Ezaliel said. “It matters little. This will be a battle to remember, one you will not live to recount, and you will fall even if we bear wounds from this clash.”

“No,” Baelin said. “One does not remember the unworthy dead. Dinner is served, my friends! Contain and destroy. Break them as you will.”

Cra’s wet laughter echoed through the chamber. Something boiled beneath her skin. “Then let us feast!”

Mana flared.

Power poured in a cosmic river.

And the air shattered.

“What in Ezaliel’s name is happening?” Kaz-Mowang screamed from within his trophy room.

Zonon-In shouted.

Other demons cried out in alarm.

The ground raged like a storm-struck sea.

But Alex’s mind was reeling from the power stirring within him, reaching out to whatever was lying in that trophy chamber. Desperation boiled, stoked by the mania-field, demanding that he rush forward and snatch the Traveller’s object.

A small hand grabbed his trouser leg, grounding him.

“Boss!” Ripp hissed, his voice barely audible as the palace shook. “Maybe we should back off! They’re gonna come out of there like lobsters leaping from a boiling pot!”

“When do lobsters leap from a pot? What lobsters have you been boiling?” Kyembe’s voice rasped from the other side of Alex.

“Not the point!”

The Thameish wizard shook his head as thunderous footsteps bounded across the trophy room floor.

He snapped back to reality. “Go! Go! Go!” he hissed. “Down the hall!”

Kaz-Mowang barked orders. “Guards! Stay here! Let no one cross this threshold!” His footsteps were replaced by the beating of massive wings.

“Shit, go!” Alex hissed.

The trio rushed down the hall on silent feet, reaching a corner as Kaz-Mowang flew from the hall of his trophy room, wings cutting the air.

Zonon-In followed—throwing a subtle glance in either direction—and behind her, came the gaggle of fiends and cultists that the bull-headed greater demon had led into the chamber. They flew along the hallway, heading in the opposite direction to where Alex and the two mercenaries hid, making their way to the ballroom in the quaking palace.

The young wizard watched them go, recognising what was happening.

‘Baelin’s started his attack,’ he thought. ‘Now’s our chance.’

“This is our opportunity,” Alex whispered. “They’re not going to be looking for the Troupe of the Gargoyle in all this chaos. Let’s grab what we came for and get out.” He nodded down the hall. “It seems he left the two guards by the entrance, though. We’ll have to take care of them. And fast. Kyembe, can your ring do the trick?”

“With one stroke,” the Spirit Killer promised. “I can strike both down.”

“Good, then let’s go, you blast them and we keep moving.”

“Aye, let’s get the bastards, then,” Ripp agreed.

“Hold.” Kyembe mused. “A thought occurs. Remove my invisibility cover.”

“What?” Alex demanded. “Are you crazy?”

“Perhaps, but I have an idea, my friend. One that will bear fruit. Probably.”

“Probably?” the young wizard raised an invisible eyebrow.

“I cannot guarantee it, since what are guarantees in life? But we waste time, remove my invisibility”

Alex frowned. Was this the prelude to betrayal?

Maybe this was an opportunity in disguise.

“Fine, but keep in mind that I can’t put you back together if those two giants rip you apart.” Alex raised his staff, removing the invisibility magic from Kyembe.

The Spirit Killer slowly materialised, pulling off his mask. “Wish me luck, friends.”

His face immediately twisted into an expression of utter terror, as he began rushing toward Kaz-Mowang’s trophy hall.

Alex followed in silence. “Ripp, if he makes any wrong moves or says anything suspicious to those demons, I want you to put enough holes in him to turn him into a sieve.”

“Got it boss,” Ripp hissed.

“Help! Help!” Kyembe shouted from ahead, approaching the hall. “We’re all going to die! Demon lords are invading! Our souls will be swallowed up! Help!”

He ran along the hallway, making his way to the trophy room, sighing with exaggerated relief when he neared the guards. “You! Oh, by the stars, I am saved!”

Kyembe staggered forward, disappearing from view.

Alex and Ripp stopped a short distance from the hall, crouching and pressing themselves against a thick column. They peeked around it, spotting another golden statue of Kaz-Mowang positioned across from the hall leading to their prize. A shield was raised in triumph; its golden surface gleaming like polished glass and acting as a mirror, allowing Alex to see into the trophy room’s hall while keeping a distance.

The staggering Spirit Killer was reflected in it; a frightened, dazed man for all the world to see. The demon guards glowered down at the mortal, many eyes appraising him while others scanned the halls for more intruders.

Alex prayed to the Traveller that they wouldn't look at the shield too closely and spot him and the invisible Swiftling beside him.

All around, the palace rumbled.

Thundar picked himself up off the floor, shaking his head as demons and mortals panicked, surrendering to mania.

Guntile and Ezerak flanked him back to back, ready to act if the fiends erupted into violence.

“Holy hells, we were nearly trampled.” The minotaur groaned, glancing at Burn-Saw.

His breath caught.

The tiashiva was leading his master through a door that would take them deeper into the palace. The scarred demon was shouting a name…Hannar-Cim.

“Hannar-Cim! Hannar-Cim! Hannar-Cim!” It was as clear as crystal.

“Shit, we gotta go after them!” Thundar bounded forward, the two mercenaries were right behind.

In their rush, no one noticed that a dangerous member of Kaz-Mowang’s party was nowhere in sight.

Yantrahpretaye—the machine-like greater demon—was gone.