Chapter 23

  Relfire Vortex

  After Azzarath’s death, the remaining demons did one of two things.

  Some of them, seeing their leader die in such an undignified way, got the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

  Others – either more loyal or more fucking stupid - decided they would attempt to avenge his death.

  From my vantage point at the top of the staircase, I had the perfect view. I sat on the steps and made myself comfortable.

  Having witnessed what a single one of my punches did to their king, the remaining demons had evidently decided that I was too great of a threat. Instead, they focused their lust for revenge on Rel and his knights.

  The clueless fuckers.

  When he realised the demons’ intentions, Rel hopped onto Osian’s head, using it as an impromptu speaker’s platform. He was silent for a few moments, running cold eyes over the mob of demons assembled before him.

  “You have one last chance to avoid the fate that surely awaits should you choose to attack me,” he said softly. The words may have been quiet and calm, but they contained an unyielding certainty that made the demons falter.

  A few of them – the ones with functioning brains - took Rel’s advice and fled so quickly that their dignity couldn’t keep up.

  “Very well…” said Rel to those that remained, a fireball igniting at the tip of his tail. “You have chosen death!”

  As the final word left his mouth, he launched himself from Osian’s head, soaring nearly twenty metres into the air. He started to spin, gathering speed until he was hovering over the hallway like a miniature, fiery hurricane.

  When the fuck had he learned to do that?

  From where I sat, it was like watching a beautifully destructive orange and grey firework. For the demons standing beneath him, I’d imagine it was shit-your-pants terrifying.

  Fireballs started hurtling to the ground like meteors…

  Very small meteors that melted people’s faces off.

  I actually felt a little sorry for the demons as I witnessed the carnage Rel unleashed on them. Where fireballs struck, agony and death followed. Flesh melted from bone, ear-splitting shrieks filling the air until the pain became too overwhelming and they collapsed. The outrageous heat fused metal to skin, the demons’ bodies roasting in an oven of their own armour.

  The acrid stench of scorched flesh soon reached me, and I raised a hand to pinch my nose. You may be shocked to learn that cooked demon smelled even worse than cooked troll.

  Rel’s spin started to slow, but by that point the demons were too afraid, too confused or too badly disfigured to pay him any attention. When he landed, he turned to the waiting skeletal knights.

  “Commander Osian,” said Rel. It was impressive how calm and composed he appeared, when mentally he was probably doing cartwheels of excitement over how well his new ‘ability’ had worked. “You and your warriors can handle it from here.”

  With that, Rel walked over to me, an impressive swagger in his step. He sat beside me on the stairs, staring at me expectantly.

  He was desperate for me to praise his new ability.

  Well, old buddy, you know what they say: patience is a virtue. And in this age of instant gratification, having to wait sometimes is good for your wellbeing.

  “Osian and his knights shouldn’t have much trouble cleaning up,” I said, carefully avoiding any and all eye contact.

  Rel remained silent. The stare intensified, his eyes boring into the side of my face like twin lasers.

  “Damn, Osian just fucking cut that demon in half!” I said, rising to my feet and clapping enthusiastically.

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  “Pete…” said Rel quietly, an edge of threat to his voice.

  I sighed dramatically and turned to face him.

  “Okay,” I said. “That was fucking awesome!”

  Rel shrugged casually, as if carpet-bombing a furious mob of colossal demons with fireballs was just another day at the office.

  “It’s good of you to notice,” he said. “Any competent archmage should be able to adapt their spells to excel in different scenarios.”

  “You do realise an ability that cool needs a name, right?” I said excitedly.

  Rel stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  “Hmm… I suppose that’s true,” he said. “It should be something that conveys skill and power. Any ideas?”

  I fell into thoughtful silence for a few minutes, utterly oblivious to the furious battle raging only thirty metres away. This was my first chance to name a ‘special move’ since I’d joined the Trial, and I did not want to mess it up.

  His name’s Rel… the ability looked a bit like a hurricane… it involved fire… he’s a squirrel.

  Hur-Rel-Cane?

  I frowned.

  No.

  That was fucking awful.

  C’mon, Pete. This is your time to shine – don’t fuck it up!

  Super Mega Ultra Fire Spin?

  I shook my head.

  Absolutely not.

  It sounded like something a dumbass kid would yell on a playground five seconds before tripping over his own shoelaces.

  Wait…

  “Relfire Vortex!” I roared excitedly, leaping to my feet.

  The battle below faltered as several very confused skeletons and demons turned to stare up at us. I cleared my throat and waved apologetically.

  “Sorry, gentlemen!” I said. “Feel free to continue kicking the shit out of each other!”

  I turned back to Rel.

  “Relfire Vortex!” I repeated, a little more quietly but no less enthusiastically.

  “Relfire Vortex…” muttered Rel softly, a distant look in his eyes. Slowly, his lips twisted into a somewhat disturbing grin. “Yes… it’s a name that will one day inspire fear in the hearts of even the bravest warriors. Pete, you’re a genius.”

  * * *

  While Osian and his knights finished off the last few demons, Rel and I discussed how to best utilise his new ability. Not tactically, of course, but how we could make it as cool as fucking possible. My favourite suggestion involved the two of us shouting ‘Relfire Vortex, activate!’ before I launched him into the air. Rel did not immediately say no, so I took that as a promising sign that one day my idea could become reality.

  We were soon joined by Osian, whose arrival seemed to jog Rel’s memory. He jumped excitedly to his feet and gestured that we should follow.

  A few moments later, we found ourselves standing over Azzarath, Rel’s eyes burning with greed as he gazed upon the demon king’s corpse.

  Oh. He’d asked me to spare the armour.

  “What exactly are these plans of yours?” I asked reluctantly.

  “What sort of lord would I be if I did not provide my knights with the very best equipment?” said Rel smugly, running a paw appreciatively over the moonlight plate mail. “I think this will suit Commander Osian perfectly.”

  I looked at the armour. I looked at Commander Osian.

  “Erm, Rel,” I said. “I think the armour might be a little too big…”

  Rel sighed pityingly.

  “Peter,” he said slowly, like he was explaining something very simple to a child for the seventeenth time. “When are you going to learn? Magic is a truly wonderful thing.”

  I glared at him but watched with interest as he instructed two of the skeletons to remove Azzarath’s armour. They did so with an impressive amount of skill and coordination, quickly working to unbuckle the different fastenings.

  Commander Osian watched silently, somehow looking a little… emotional. And let me tell you, reading the emotions of a skeleton is not easy.

  The knights soon had the armour arranged neatly on the floor. Rel stood beside it, muttering under his breath.

  “Yes… this’ll do nicely. Very nicely, indeed,” he said, before turning to face Osian. “Commander, step forth and receive your new armour.”

  “My lord,” replied Osian, sounding a little ashamed. “I am not worthy of such a princely gift!”

  Rel tutted.

  “Do you think it is appropriate for a lord as magnificent as I to have his commander walking around in rusty chainmail?” asked Rel. “Equip your new armour – that’s an order.”

  Commander Osian still looked a little reluctant, but he approached hesitantly and then stood motionless as his knights fitted the armour.

  As it touched Osian’s body, my jaw dropped. A pulsing, blue, arcane light suffused the armour, and then it shrunk before my very eyes until it fit Osian as if it were made for him.

  Fucking magic…

  Rel turned to look at me with a very self-satisfied grin.

  “Now look at this!” he said, gesturing excitedly at Osian. “This is what the commander of Lord Rel’s personal guard should look like!”

  I had to admit that Osian looked fucking badass.

  * * *

  Rel summoned a portal to the abyss, allowing his skeletal knights to return home for a well-deserved rest.

  “Do you know what I’m a little bit sad about?” I asked.

  “Your outfit?”

  “No, you dick. Not my outfit.”

  “Your tragically underdeveloped intellect?”

  “No.”

  “Your hairstyle?”

  “N- wait, what the fuck’s wrong with my hairstyle?”

  Rel snorted.

  “What’s wrong with it?” he said, shaking his head as his gaze rested on my hair. “A better question would be: what’s not wrong with it? I mean, honestly, Pete. Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

  “I ha-” I replied, but my words quickly trailed away.

  Wait.

  When was the last time I looked in a mirror?

  I shook my head, now a little self-conscious of how my hair fell into my eyes as I did so. I pushed it aside quickly, glaring at Rel as he fixed me with a smug when am I ever wrong? grin.

  “What I was saying, before a rude little turd interrupted me with some very hurtful comments,” I snapped, “is that I’m sad we missed Kaelis’s revenge rampage through Floor Two.”

  “Well, you might be in luck there,” said Rel. “Kaelis told me he planned to spend a little longer training on Floor One before he made his attempt. If we rush back, we might still make it in time.”