Inferno (Play to Live: Book # 4) (25 page)

What worried me most was the thought that our dear Macaria could have probably got off her gorgeous backside and fine-tune her Voluntary Death ability, allowing the victims — say, after a dozen or even a hundred successive deaths — to choose their own resurrection points, albeit in the nearest temple. The problem was, the goddess was the least interested in it. With the disappearance of industrial-scale slavery, the mana flow would plummet a hundred or even a thousand times. Problem.

Asmodeus was a born showman. He kept the finest piece of his collection till last. A huge black dragon cocooned in a fine net of charmed silver chains was tossing about in his sleep, twitching the tip of his tail fixed to the stone with mithril nails. From time to time, a large crystalline tear swelled under his eyelids and rolled slowly down his scaly cheek.

Noticing my expression, Asmodeus hurried to explain, "I've got nothing to do with it! I detected a powerful portal and went over to see what it was about. And he already lay there, studded with spears and hung up with spells up to his balls. He'd have died in a couple of days, anyway. So I brought him here. About ten years ago it was. The body has picked up a bit — snakes are resilient bastards — but it's his soul that's the problem. It ignores pain, it knows no fear, and isn't willing to strike a deal. And to keep the Phantom Shackles on full twenty-four seven takes more energy than the miraculous seduction of a hundred virgins!"

"How about you let him go?"

His raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Don't say that! He's only a fraction of becoming a god. Sooner or later I'll break him, whether it takes a hundred or a thousand years. Have you seen the color and the purity of his magic spectrum? D'you know the speed of his mana flow? His recharge times? So you see."

The dragon heaved a sigh. Another tear fell to the floor. Could he hear us? "How about a swap?"

It's not that I wanted to try flying instead of walking. I rather wanted to feel for his weak points. And admittedly I felt sorry for the dragon. I had this thing for powerful beasties.

The demon shook his head, then paused, thinking. Finally he said ruefully, "I could swap it for a castle in your realm. Nova or above. With a permanently activated Summoning Pentagram — a Higher-Circle one, mind you. The one that has to be drawn with chalk made from the crushed bones of a holy man, with candles made of an albino dragon's fat, its points marked with flawless diamonds."

Now it was my time to wrinkle my forehead. "Why? Can't you just port to us? It'll cost me a pretty penny fetching you every time. You can buy half a castle with these portal expenses."

I could see Asmodeus struggle with both his greed and his preservation instincts. Reluctantly he pulled a ring off his finger. "Take it. It's the same kind of seal that Verenus had. Only it has a twenty-four hour cooldown."

"Excellent! Why does his take half a year, then?"

"When I die, it's gonna be the same," he snapped. "It takes time to come round and accumulate enough energy to respawn. Besides, time flows differently
over there
. Come on, then. I can see them taking your raiders out."

Indeed, some lower-ranking demon had already attached a scarred orc to a long length of chain, leading the obedient caravan of impassive bodies up the stairs. I followed them.

The demon's barely audible voice said to my back,

"Laith."

"Yeah?" I turned round, not so much in response to his call but because of the unusual sound of his mighty voice that had alarmed me.

"If, you know... If I fail to survive... don't forget to summon me back, okay? P- please. To spend hundreds of years floating in the Great Void gradually losing your identity... you wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy."

I nodded in silence, taking his words in. Asmodeus had just entrusted me with his resurrection! It was true that hardly anyone before me had managed to level up their relationship with the demonic faction to neutral even, let alone friendly, but still...

We retraced our own steps back up the dank stairs. Inferno's weak sun blinded us. The Gimhae's indignant outcry assaulted our eardrums as they saw the chained-up line of their comrades, their angry shouts replaced with those of concern as the prisoners didn't recognize anyone: neither their friends nor wives. Even the father of a perma family stared indifferently at his three sons.

Once I blinked the light out of my eyes, I raised my hand, wincing from the noise and demanding their attention. "Wait! Give Asmodeus a chance. He'll get their souls back in a couple of minutes. These are only soulless shells."

The Koreans parted, casting unkind glances at the demon. Apparently, there was no love lost between them. Never mind. It served my purposes just fine. As they say in politics, divide and flippin' rule...

The demon waved a beclawed paw. The prisoners' bodies arced and collapsed to the ground. The astral planes brought their souls' horrified screams that froze in the bodies' parched throats. The crowd shrank back, then swayed forward, hurrying toward the prisoners. They hugged and comforted them while others sobbed at the bosom of their nonsensically staring comrades. Oh yes, coming out of a general anesthetic is child's play compared to returning from the world of eternal nightmares. I just hoped the guys' heads were strong enough.

The all-seeing Dan elbowed his way to me through the crowd and past my troll bodyguards who'd finally taken their rightful place next to me. Our "cloak and dagger" was predictably the first to notice anything out of the ordinary.

"Just tell me how you did it!"

I didn't quite get him. "What exactly?"

"Stop fooling around! Your level! You've done a hundred in the last thirty minutes!"

"Less then eighty, actually," I corrected him mechanically.

"Whatever! How did you do it? Who gave it to you? You didn't have to sell your soul, did you? I'm serious!"

"Get away! It's only a quest. A big fat quest!"

"A recurring one?" he perked up. "Can you use it to level other people? What do you need to do to get it? I want the logs and the pics!"

What a cheek. He made it sound like he was cadging a smoke off me. But this kind of information cost a lot of money. Still, I couldn't really say no to the Vets. Besides, they couldn't do the quest without me, anyway.

"A recurring one, yes," I said. "But it's also personal, meant for me alone. We might use it to level a few people, you never know. The effect is mind-blowing but-"

"But you'll be the one to complete the quest while the chosen person would join the group and get half the xp, right?"

I just smiled and nodded. Dan gave me his typical questioning-officer squint, "Every time I look at you I ask myself, how come you're such a sly bastard? I'm sure if we gave you a stick and locked you in the shithouse you'd dig the shit till you got to a trunk full of gold. You sure your granddad wasn't trading in second hand toilet paper?"

"So what if he was?" I played along. "The poor bastard had to earn his keep, didn't he?"

"Well, if he did, he passed it on to you," Dan parried.

We guffawed, pleased with each other, and headed for the HQ.

The composite officer group in charge of the looting process were up to their ears in work. Most of the items dropped by these kinds of high-level monsters were no drop, which meant that they could only be picked up by their rightful owners who'd outbid all the others at auction. On top of that, each of the participating clans kept its own raid point system as well as other combat and domestic achievement stats. I'd no idea how they were going to combine all of that into one system that would allow us to hold the auctions without hurting anyone's interests.

Widowmaker came running, "Your stone has won, Sir! The mob's body is marked on the map under #2316. Hurry up, it'll only be there for twenty more minutes."

Yes! I opened the location map and activated the HQ markers. There it was, about three hundred paces north west. Shame that the radar with its built-in navigator had disappeared, but my newfound sense of direction worked almost as well.

I struggled through the burial pile of all the demons. We'd minced some meat, hadn't we? And that's considering that the better part of the bodies had already disappeared — those empty looted ones that Asmodeus had killed before joining the raid.

I tried not to look at their scowling muzzles, slimy tentacles and spilled purple guts. Even though these days I slept like a baby in my new body, I didn't want to push my luck. I wasn't looking forward to sleepless nights and perfect 3D nightmares, may the Sun God take them.

Ah, there it was, my mob. Only a mother could love a face like this. Never mind, now it was only for the better. Just seeing him could give his enemies a dose of diarrhea.

The level-340 Demon Soul Stone took its pride of place in my collection, next to the level-300 crystal I'd earned in the dusty streets of the Lost City. Technically speaking, the pinnacle of my collection was the Basilisk's petrified eggs. The mercs still rolled their eyes and tut-tutted like Turkish bazaar vendors every time they remembered the battle.

Yes, that had been one unique monster. The last in AlterWorld, which doubled the loot and increased his rarity tenfold. But besides a dozen five hundred-pound eggs of Ancient Basilisks we also had a couple of Wild ones that weighed almost three times that, plus the totally unimaginable Egg of the Basilisk King. The treasury guards had already told me that its ten-foot sphere was seriously messing up with their brains. Like, trying to put ideas into their heads. That I could believe; in actual fact, it was my job to follow up on their reports because you just couldn't disembody a creature of this caliber completely.

I still had a large stock of useless level-70s Soul Stones which now awaited their inglorious reduction to Magic Dust. They cost peanuts on today's scale of things but we all know that the first step to true riches starts with controlling your income — and especially your expenses. We've all heard the stories of lottery winners who go back on welfare in a matter of years.

The few male Ear Cutters and their numerous female counterparts didn't seem upset by the order to stay behind. Unfortunately, when I'd promised three hundred Drow to Asmodeus, I'd apparently underestimated our losses as barely two hundred remained standing. And even this figure was incredible. The battle had been so tough that most players had respawned several times. repeatedly reexiting their crystal resurrection spheres.

The mercs survived thanks to their higher levels, excellent combat skills and — surprisingly — to my orders to keep an eye on the girls, helping and saving them if necessary. My cheek twitched every time I thought about the money this raid had cost me. Then again, the first crop of my Ear Cutter girls had just respawned. Their eyes sparkling, fourteen of them had just reported back to their team leader.

Oh well, time to get this show on the road. I activated the clan chat and ordered the Drow to fall in. What followed looked a bit like awarding medals on parade. On my signal, an Ear Cutter would step out of the line. Hands would raise as invariably some of the clan members would have something to say about a warrior or warrioress' valor and courage. After that, I would bestow a name on him or her.

Ten warriors; twenty, thirty... My heart was turning into a block of ice, freezing me from inside. My body was shuddering now. Widowmaker next to me knotted his eyebrows. Forty. Fifty. Fifty-two.

Out.

I came to hearing Snowie's desperate roar. Not knowing how to help me, he was hovering over me dangerously close to my head. Somebody's strong hand was squeezing my cheeks, forcing my lifeless mouth open. Drops of thick liquid burned my tongue and streaked down my throat, scorching everything in its wake. I croaked, struggling. Were they giving me chili pepper juice by way of smelling salts?

Finally I managed to focus and see smaller objects than a desperately thrashing troll. When I realized
what
was pouring down my throat, I struggled again, forcing away the hands that tried to restrain me. I turned face down, retching, trying to bring the substance back up.

"I shouldn't if I were you," Asmodeus sounded hurt. He began healing the cut on his hand. "Sacrificed voluntarily, Blood of a Higher Demon is a unique precious gift. Blood is only a carrier medium here. It's my force I've just shared with you."

"Sorry," I croaked, staring blurred-eyed at a new system message window.

Congratulations! You have tasted the blood of an Archdemon! Now you will forever preserve part of his demonic identity, rising one step above the rest in your skills and abilities. But beware of false pride! Do not consider yourself equal to gods! The stairway to heaven is long and shaky; some consider it never ending.

Congratulations! You've received a passive ability: Immunity to Soul Stealing. From now on, your astral entity will bare its demonic fangs and snap back whenever someone attempts to force it loose from its host.

"For future reference," Asmodeus went on, "If ever you want to turn into a one-off creature like those you've been so generously sharing your heart with, then yes, keep up the good work. Just remember that the next time I might not happen to be around. But if you still treasure your immortality, then you'd better go easy on your divine spark. Trust me, I'm an expert. It's not enough to go round."