Vol 5, Chapter 24

The dungeons of the local "inquisition" failed to impress. Nor did the local "inquisitor," though he tried. For a whole hour, he pulled various tools from his satchel and described in detail how they worked. But alas, a signal sounded through the room, the "inquisitor" left, and when he returned, he began putting all the tools back.

"Something happened?" I asked my would-be executioner with feigned concern.

"It's a pity you refused to cooperate. I'm afraid we won't see each other again," he shook his head and dropped something that looked like a magical wine corkscrew into the satchel. As he had explained, this thing was screwed into the ear.

I followed the little gadget with interest.

"Not even going to show me? You spent so long telling me about them—at least something!"

"Another specialist will take care of you," he replied coldly.

"Oh, someone higher up from your inquisition coming?"

"I've told you already, we are not the inquisition." For the hundredth time he answered, and since it annoyed him, I had no intention of stopping.

"Bye-bye, inquisitor! See you again."

The interrogator snapped the clasps on the satchel shut and left, slamming the door in irritation.

Silence fell in the cramped room. I shifted in the metal throne; the leather straps had already chafed my limbs raw.

Maybe I should escape?

"Escape? From the Academy's dungeons? Asinus." A mocking growl echoed in my head.

"Shut up, schizophrenia," I said aloud. My voice echoed lonely off the stone walls.

"Why haven't you escaped yet, mortal? Drain the magic from this chair, transform it, and you're free."

"I was waiting for them to start torturing me. Was curious to see how it would go," I lied.

In truth, I had been hoping someone high-ranking would drop by so I could take them hostage. Getting out of the dungeons seemed simple enough to me, but getting out of the Commonwealth… I needed some kind of bargaining chip.

"Oh, what a kind soul. In the Abyss, the cerberi would have picked your bones clean by now."

"You know, it was better when you were quietly dying."

"Ha-ha!" He let out a demonic laugh.

Wait, could he even laugh any other way?

Still, at least I confirmed Astarot didn't have access to my thoughts. Another problem on my head: by overfeeding the creature, I had brought it back to its senses. Hopefully not for long—the contract with the Third Prince continued to slowly kill him.

"I can help you get out," came the tempting whisper.

"Very interesting," I yawned deliberately. "How?"

"I'll return part of your power. Miss the magnetism, mortal?"

"I see living on the edge of life and death has made you more agreeable."

"We are immortal… I'd call it the line between existence and non-existence. Elegantia juris."

"I don't care. What do you want in return?"

"My request remains the same. Kill the Third Prince. Kill him, destroy him, break him, crush him, tear him apart! Delere!" he howled, instantly losing his composure.

My head rang.

"Easy, ragazzo," I said jokingly.

Although… that was Italian, not Latin?

Ah, whatever.

"He's a threat to you as well. He set you up. Because of him, you're sitting here tied to a chair like a dog. Take revenge, mortalis."

"I will, don't doubt it. When the time comes."

The only reply was an irritated growl.

I wasn't about to rush straight to the Prince and put a bullet in his heart. First, I had the vague suspicion it wouldn't be that easy to kill him. Second… His death could lead not only to civil war, but to a larger war. The murder of the Second Prince had upset the balance of power: the Commonwealth had lost its candidate for the throne, and the Theocracy had pulled far ahead in influence, since the First Prince was still alive and well. If the situation didn't stabilize… Eh, whatever. First, I needed to get out of the dungeon, and then I'd see.

"Fine. I'll kill him when I'm ready. You're right—while he's alive, he's only creating more problems."

"Tertius princeps delenda est. Give an oath, sign a contract, that within a year he will be dead. Then our paths will part forever. You'll get all your power back, and I'll get my freedom."

"Mama told me never to sign hellish contracts with winged, horned uncles. My verbal promise is all you'll get."

"Fine… fine… Ede, bibi, lude, mortal. I'll return your power temporarily, but if I have even the slightest suspicion you don't intend to keep your promise…"

A burning pain swelled in my chest. Good thing I was strapped to the steel chair, or I'd have been rolling on the floor.

"Imp… you decided… to torture me… instead of them?" I gritted out.

"Endure, ha-ha-ha."

The iron door creaked open.

"I see you're already terrified. Don't panic too soon," came a muffled voice.

I focused on the new arrival… and saw no face at all. A smooth, polished metal mask; a dark, shapeless robe hiding the outline of the body.

"The new… inquisitor… has arrived," I muttered through clenched teeth.

"The old one, but young, Condor."

The figure raised its hands and removed the helmet-mask. A waterfall of hair spilled over her shoulders.

"Actually, that's against the rules. Our gift is very rare, so we keep our identities hidden… But I want you to see me. To remember me. To have my face haunt your nightmares," Malvin said, carefully setting the faceless mask on the floor.

"Ha, and this little lady is going to torture you? Let's devour her soul," Astarot laughed, inaudible to Malvin.

"Must be… uncomfortable hiding all that hair under a mask," I managed to smirk. The pain was slowly fading. Damn, couldn't she have shown up ten minutes later?

"Not afraid of me?" she smiled sweetly.

"You looked… scarier with the mask on," I admitted honestly.

"Heh-heh, what about now?" The smile vanished from her face as she tapped into her source.

Nothing happened.

I turned my head, searching for any change—maybe a fireball had materialized behind me?

"Horror… Salvum fac dominum daemonium…" Astarot muttered in a strangely fearful tone before falling silent. I could feel him retreating far, far away, not even showing his nose.

"Hey, Astarot, you hear me?" I called out aloud, but got nothing in response except a quiet whimper.

"You're insane," the girl said with disappointment. "I've never met anyone who went mad from fear so quickly. You've ruined all my fun…"

"Shut up. Can't you see I'm talking to someone? Well, not exactly someone… Forget it."

"You're mad. Probably why you crossed me."

"Me? When?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"You took the prince from me! Foisted that… that slut on him! And the result? He's dead! I could have been a princess…"

"At your age, girls don't dream about princes on white horses," I lectured.

"He had a black griffon, not some white horse!"

"Doesn't matter. He had hundreds of flings, you never had a chance."

"He'd have been afraid to abandon me!" she snapped, tapping into her source again. Astarot's whimpering grew louder, but I just shrugged.

"But he did—he chose Nala over you."

"You filthy worm!" For several minutes she… cursed me? What was she even doing?

I glanced around, still not seeing anything unusual... A trickle of blood ran from her nose. She stopped, wiped it, and stared at her stained glove in surprise.

"See? You're frozen in fear!" she said, trying to reassure herself.

"No, I was just wondering where my things went. And my arm itches—the one healed," I said, showing my wrist. "Torture in its purest form. Maybe scratch it for me? Or at least loosen the strap so I can do it myself."

"You, you…" Her face flushed with shame and rage.

"Now, now, don't get mad," I soothed.

"Mad? You're about to find out what real rage is—it'll tear you apart!"

This time, when she tapped into her source, I felt it.

It irritated me. The arm I couldn't scratch. The seat digging into me. The straps. The stale dungeon air. Anger. Fury. Who did this bitch think she was? Who did any of them think they were? How dare they keep me locked up? Take away my freedom?

Plans? To hell with plans.

My roar merged with the demon's. He burned with fury too, mostly at the one who had made him afraid, and he poured strength into me to take revenge.

A moment.

The magic in the air was sucked greedily into the demon. In the next room, a crystal powering the steel chair exploded.

A moment.

The leather straps tore under my scaled arm. The throne liquefied and flung me at the mage like a catapult.

She recoiled and fell back, terrified, cutting off her spell. Claws ripped through her robe and drew blood, but didn't slice her apart.

Another moment, and I seized control again.

Just in time—those claws had been aiming for her heart. My claws.

"Astarot. Get rid of this crap. Now," I ordered, shaking drops of blood onto the floor.

"This lady is scarier than the Lord of Hell…" he muttered.

"Now!"

The claws retracted, my arm returned to normal. I scratched it in bliss. Finally…

"Induced rage, huh?" I asked the girl as she tried to crawl away.

She just kicked at the floor in panic, even after hitting the iron door.

"Well, now you know it's better not to make me angry. Hm… Since we've swapped places, what should I ask you…" I mused.

"Kill her, quickly! Give me her soul!"

"No," I told the demon.

"H-h-how?" Her teeth chattered.

I shrugged. "You shouldn't have put a metal mage in a metal chair, idiots."

"It was enchanted!" Malvin squealed.

"Well, it was," I agreed.

"Why aren't you afraid of her? Are you even… mortal?" Astarot's voice sounded bewildered, even subdued.

"I'm not done with you. Without my permission, I don't want to see those claws again, understood?"

"I just gave you a little power from the Abyss…"

"Understood?" I barked.

"I-I-I understand, I understand, I'm s-s-sorry!"

The girl clutched her ears in panic. Tears filled her eyes—it's not every day you watch a madman talk to empty air.

"I wasn't even talking to you. Astarot!"

"I understand… Non-mortal."

"So, now tell me, where are my powers?" I extended a hand toward the girl's helmet, but it didn't hurry to fly into my grasp.

"One moment… Done."

The world bloomed into color. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to sense metal at such a distance: it was like having a blindfold torn off. A pulse, and Malvin's faceless helmet obediently landed in my hand. However…

"These aren't my powers, they feel different," I shook my head.

"Without a doubt, they are yours. Don't forget, I absorbed them. I can't rip them out of myself… but I can give you access to them. What difference does it make if they work?"

The difference, I thought, was that as easily as he'd given them, he could take them away again at any moment. And if the demon fell into slumber from exhaustion, I'd lose them once more. Hardly a full replacement for what I'd had before the possession… but better than nothing.

"In that case, make sure they work perfectly. Otherwise…" I lowered my voice to a whisper. "You don't actually think I couldn't open a portal into the Abyss and meet you in person, do you?"
"Do not threaten me, non-mortal."

"Obey my orders, demon, and I won't have to carry them out."

Astarot muttered something barely audible about insolent humans. Well, looked like our conversation was over.

I turned the helmet-mask over and ran my fingers along the front. Polished steel, not a seam to be found: the work of a metal mage, no doubt. The only question was, how had Malvin seen through it?

As an experiment, I tried putting it on. Unfortunately, my head didn't fit, too big. I peeked inside with one eye and, sure enough… from the inside, it was transparent. A fascinating and useful thing: I'd take it with me. I'd find a use for such an intriguing piece.

"All right… as for you…" I turned to the girl, only to see she'd lost consciousness. Probably my conversation with Astarot had frightened her too much. Well, to hell with her.

I dragged her body to the side so it wouldn't block the way, then stood before the iron door. I could have liquefied it, or unlatched the bolts… That would have been faster, but I wanted to test myself.

I needed to know my limits before a fight.

Focusing, I pushed. The iron groaned, the walls trembled, but held. I stopped and looked over the spreading cracks. Had the mages forgotten the rule that there's no point in a door stronger than the walls around it?

No, this time I wanted to go through the door itself.

I gathered my strength and unleashed it in one burst. The hundred-kilogram door crumpled, ripped from its massive hinges. A crash, dust! It smashed into the wall, shattering stone. Cracks snaked through the dungeon.

I shook out my hands.
Not bad, not bad at all.
Even better than before.

Time to find my belongings. I could sense my sword nearby. Using it as my guide, I went through door after door, this time without showing off, simply softening the metal and passing through… it was better to save my strength.

After another door, I came face-to-face with a mage.
One punch to his overly long nose, and he slumped to the floor, leaving a bloody smear on the wall. I looked around.

He was probably the storeroom keeper, or its guard. Long shelves were packed with all sorts of things: bloodstained clothing, daggers coated in poison. Wasting no time, I headed straight for my sword.

Beside it lay two bloodied spikes, from which steel branched like roots—cut out of the dogs, I assumed. I left them where they were. Putting aside the spikes that had once been pistols, I took my sword and flask. I unscrewed the cap, drank the water, and opened the false bottom. Looked like all the powder was there, but just in case… I slung it at my belt beside the scabbard and left the storeroom.

Time to break my way up.

******************************************************

Another mage dropped with a hole in his heart. I wiped my sword and kept climbing the stairs, killing anyone who tried to stop me.

It was surprisingly easy… I almost felt like Klemen.

Stripping mages of their power while still using my own—yeah, that was what you'd call "broken". No wonder he was so arrogant. The only thing I lacked was the ability to draw on an enemy's strength. But for that, I'd have to fully merge with the demon.

A price far too high in my book… this was good enough.

A wave of cold rushed down from above, only to disperse before it touched my skin. The mage didn't give up: steps ahead iced over in a thick crust.

I snapped a shard off my sword's tip and sent it flying.

It circled around and came back to me, red with blood.

The mage collapsed, tumbling down the stairs, a fountain of crimson spilling from his pierced neck. I reattached the tip and kept moving. The ice under my feet melted into water.

Water mixed with blood.

Damn staircase… how deep underground had I been? I'd climbed at least ten floors, and it still hadn't ended.

And the moment I complained about it, it ended.

Last tier. A landing soaked in blood, where a mage had tried to cast spells. An iron door… It was almost unusual to see iron everywhere. In the Kingdom, any door guarding anything important would be made of anything but metal. Here, though, people were simply unafraid… Which was understandable. Metal mages were few, they were under control, and a steel door would be much sturdier against any other type of mage.

The door toppled forward when its hinges softened like butter. Inside—rows of panels, tables, papers, crystals, and those now-familiar joystick-like levers. Bright light reminiscent of sunlight poured from the crystals in the ceiling. For a moment, the smell of ink overpowered the blood I'd soaked in on my way up.

Looked like I'd reached something important—whatever it was. I wondered how far I was from the surface.

The room was empty… No, not quite. A lone girl sat crouched, hands over her head, right in front of the panels.

Not the best hiding place… even if it was in the shadow of the crystal rack.

She didn't seem intent on attacking, so I flicked the blood from my sword and slid it into the scabbard.

"Don't kill me, please! I'll do anything you ask!" she pleaded in a thin voice.

"I won't, if you behave. Tell me, how far am I from the surface?" I asked as affably as I could.

Maybe it sounded a bit hypocritical after I'd cut down dozens of her colleagues… but was it my fault they'd attacked me first? Those who ran, I let go. Those who didn't strike first, I only knocked out.

"We're right under the portal platform, sir. From here, I control the portals and…" she began plaintively.

"What?!" I cut her off. "You can control the portal from here? The portal on the square?"

"Yes… I'll do whatever you want, open it anywhere you like, just don't kill me, please!" she whimpered, sniffling.

This… this was my ticket straight home. How convenient!

Eureka! Today was definitely my day. I'd been thinking of hijacking some ship, but a portal… a portal was perfect.

I grinned wide, but the grin slowly faded.

Damn.

Suspiciously perfect.

Too perfect to be true. The rush of euphoria drained away.

"I'll set up the portal, if you allow," the girl stood and quickly clicked the levers.

A hum rose overhead. Purple mist seeped through the ceiling. It was really a portal…

Yet I couldn't shake my doubts. My instincts prickled, but I couldn't say why.

"Where does this portal lead?" I gave my suspicion words.

"I set it to the Steel Kingdom, my lord," she babbled.

Her heart was pounding so fast and loud I could hear it.

"How do you know that's where I want to go?"

My hand settled on my sword's hilt on its own.

"You're the ambassador they brought here last night, of course you wouldn't want to go to the Theocracy." She averted her eyes, but her words carried a boldness.

Too bold for someone who'd just begged for her life.

In the room's silence, her heartbeat still thudded fast. From the speed and volume—it sounded panicked. But why the defiance?

My instincts pounded like a war drum, matching her heart.

I sniffed the air. Blood, by now, I was used to it.

Only it was far too strong here. My gaze roamed the control room until it landed on a small door.

A door from under which a pool of blood had crept toward us.

In one swift motion, I bared my sword and leveled it at the girl.

She raised her brows in mild confusion.

"Something wrong, my lord?"

Without taking my eyes off her, I stepped toward the door. Yes, turning my back to a door leaking blood wasn't smart… but my instincts screamed that turning my back on her would be worse.

Step by step.

She noticed the blood, too, and sighed. Her face shifted in an instant from tearful to indifferent.

I opened the door without looking away from her.

Something fell out into the blood, splashing my trousers.

I glanced down and saw an exact copy of my companion's face. Eyes wide open, lifeless. Chest cavity split open.

The heart—gone.

I didn't linger on the corpse. My eyes snapped back up.

The girl inhaled the bloody scent and licked her lips.

And I understood…

Her heartbeat hadn't been fast.

It had been the sound of two hearts beating at once.