Demonic Devourer ch. 103

Angelic Tower — Root

“To do the impossible,” Kirin muses. “I don’t know how much of that you’ll find from me, Adrian.”

“You’re Category 3,” Adrian replies. “That’s further than I can manage.”

The sixteenth floor was trivially easy with Kirin’s treasury of artifacts, as was the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth.

Adrian was honestly getting bored. He knew that Sierra and Evelyn were risking their lives right this very second—okay, well, technically they were already dead or something. Demonology wasn’t his strong suit.

Still, there’s every possibility that their existences were being erased from the overlapping realities that made up their world, and here Adrian is, tagging along with Kirin and sniping the occasional boss to get experience. It was a nice change of pace from the constant chain of near-death experiences that had been the weeks since meeting Evelyn, and he can’t say he’s unhappy with the levels.

Warrior is stuck at level 50. The system messages that accompanied his level-up still remain in a corner of his vision, whispering to him his every waking second. Hydrokinetic, however, has seen progress—it’s jumped from 207 to 215 thanks to a series of suspiciously easy objectives. His control over his domain has slowly improved, but it hasn’t been anything exceptional. Just… normal.

Normal. That word describes far too much of Adrian’s arsenal, doesn’t it?

He’s still on the course that the system has laid out for him. Kirin and Adrian have been discussing what he can actually do to unlock the next step for his Warrior class, but the Relic Hunter hasn’t been much help.

“Adrian,” Kirin says, turning towards him. “Do you know how old I am?”

Right now, the two of them have chosen to rest in a quiet spot in the area between floors. Floor 20 marks an actual paradigm shift, just like floor 10 did, which means that Adrian might actually start being challenged.

Objective: Ascend

Become greater than what you are. Climb higher than anyone has climbed and live to tell the tale. This is a multi-tier objective. Separate rewards will be granted at the 25th, 50th, 75th, 100th, 150th, 200th, 300th and 342nd floors.

The objective hangs in the air for a moment before Adrian shoves it away.

They’re nowhere near where they need to be. So far, it’s been a walk in the park, but he genuinely has no idea what he’s going to do when Kirin can no longer get by with his weapons alone.

Evelyn could do it. Sierra could do it. Can he? That’s not even a question at the moment. Will he ever be able to?

“Adrian?” Kirin asks, cocking his head. “Are you awake?”

“I have no idea,” Adrian replies, startled. “Uh, shit. I mean, I don’t know how old you are. You look, like, not much older than me. Thirty, maybe.”

Of course, he knows that appearances are deceiving. Evelyn wasn’t even a month old when he first saw her, and he’d thought she was a good few years older than him then. Sierra’s Aunt Marie is ridiculously old, he’s pretty sure, but she has remained ageless for as long as he’s known her.

“I am one hundred fifty-two years old,” Kirin says, suddenly sounding very, very tired. “You are quite literally an eighth of my age, Adrian, and you are already far past where I was when I was twenty years older than you.”

Adrian considers that.

“And I was a prodigy,” Kirin adds. “Do you know how few hit Category 2 before a hundred years of age, let alone Category 3?”

“Vaguely,” Adrian says. “But the normal rules never really applied to me.”

Not since the day he woke up drowning in a tube with a new magic grafted to his soul. Not since the days near everyone he cared for wound up brutally dead. Not since Sierra.

“They did to me,” Kirin says. “Everything I do is by the book. I grew in power throughout the years by traveling the parts of the world that I would not die in just by existing and picking up what pieces I could. These are untreaded grounds for me. To reach level 215 in only nineteen years? To become a godsdamned Titan—“

“—Proto-Titan,” Adrian interjects.

“—still a fucking Titan. To do any of this? I am completely out of my godsdamned depth here. I have no Coalition support because they’ve been subverted, I have no access to half of my pocket realms, and our end goal is to throw ourselves into the hells.”

Kirin keeps his expression and tone mostly controlled, but Adrian can hear the cracks forming.

The Relic Hunter, he realizes, is not someone that can save this situation. He can imagine the gears turning in Sierra’s head as she creates a plan to manipulate him. The hunger in Evelyn’s eyes as she wonders what skills she can extract from his corpse.

What would they do? How would they create a miracle from nothing? How would they answer this?

No. That’s not the only question he has to ask him now.

How can he recapture lightning in a bottle? When he resolved to do anything to escape the prison fragment, even at the cost of his soul; when he achieved Category 2 early within a proto-Titan’s bubble of frozen time.

How can he be more than what he is?

“So, let’s look at the facts.” Adrian needs to tread carefully here. To imply his intentions incorrectly is dangerous at best. “You’re going to be useless if you’re in charge.”

Or I could say that, I guess. Adrian’s control over his words has never been good.

“…yeah.” Kirin sighs, defeated. “Fuck. A hundred years of service and bested by a damn child.”

Adrian grins nervously, unsure of whether he should take that as compliment or insult.

“If you can’t make yourself do the impossible, I will,” he declares. He’s not sure if he believes himself, but he has to. There is no other choice. “Teach me what it takes to reach Category 3.”

“That’s not p—“

“I didn’t ask for what’s possible,” Adrian says pointedly. “And neither did this godsdamned system. It took a revelation to break through to Category 2. I assume it’ll be the same to keep going. Teach me how.”

“That’s not how it works,” Kirin replies. “You fresh ascended are all like this. You can’t just—“

“I did just,” Adrian says, growing annoyed. “I literally did. Would you have said the same to poor little Category 1 me?”

For the first time, he’s dealing with someone who is less certain than him. Though Kirin might be an order of magnitude more powerful than Adrian is right now—particularly with his Angel’s Vengeance, an item that hurts Adrian’s soul just to look at—Sierra exuded greater confidence when she was barely even Category 1.

It was, he reflected darkly, the difference between a man who’d been so used to working in a system that he’d spent a hundred years in it and a woman who’d been abused by said system. When the Coalition turned against Kirin, it was the worst day of his life. When it turned against Adrian and Sierra, it was just another day.

“Point conceded,” Kirin says with a sigh. “I have to point out, though, that the amount of experience you have to gain to cross the threshold from 2 to 3 is much greater than anything you have gained before.”

“That’s fine,” Adrian says with a shrug. It really isn’t, but he never sees Evelyn or Sierra panicking over logistical issues in their plans, so he refuses to as well. “I have a plan.”

Insofar as it could be called a plan, that is.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Kirin says.

“Great,” Adrian says cheerfully. “That’s always a good sign.”

He lays his idea out for the senior operator.

It’s a simple one, though the difference between simple and easy was wide as a canyon in this particular case.

To advance faster, he needs far more experience. Apart from bosses, there is only one way to do so at speed.

“Climb, teleport, drill through the tower if we have to,” he says. “Go up as fast as we can, no matter the monsters around us. Don’t stop for anything. Climbing is all that matters. Avoid fights.”

“You’re insane,” Kirin says.

Is this what Evelyn feels like? Adrian’s grin is no longer nervous. He’s sure that if the Adrian of three months ago saw his own face right now, he’d cringe back in fear. Even Kirin shrinks back when Adrian turns his lopsided, crazed smile upon him.

“That’s exactly what I need to be. Now, let’s climb.”

#

The Ninth Circle

Del is not having a good day.

To be fair, neither are the people with him. Del finds it hard to believe that anyone is particularly enthused about the fact that they have been enlisted to delve the hells.

As an academic question, the hells are thrilling. There is much to be said about the presence of a second plane overlaid just under the mortal one. Much of Del’s past decades of research have been on the relation of the many hells to the nullspaces created by utter matter annihilation, anomalies, and Titans alike.

The Ninth Hell. Signature has a high correlation with that of the Titan Sersui. Standard helldiving equipment is sufficient to survive the rigors of this hell.

Thinking over the mission statement calms him as much as a man can be calmed upon appearing in a hell for the first time. It is truly disgusting in here. Brutal gusts of sand whip at his skin, trying to tear him apart; it is only his unparalleled equipment that protects him.

Del isn’t worried, of course. At Category 2, the majority of living humans do not present an actual threat to him. His domain, too, is abnormally powerful, especially when in contact with anomalies.

That does not change the fact that he is still in a hell, unfortunately. He can think of several thousand better ways to spend his time.

Just under an hour ago, the first group of researchers, comprised of some of the best scientists both Coalition and not, landed in the Ninth Circle, which Del is reasonably sure is the highest hell their targets can be in given the lack of a mana signature higher in the demonic strata.

“Still on target,” he says, checking his communicator for the fifteenth time in the past two minutes. “Their signature is growing closer.”

He’s on edge, but not terribly so. The other group’s beacon is still active, and it shows six living signatures. It Is likely that they have yet to even find traces of the demon they hunt.

Del’s security clearance in the UCC is level 4, granted thanks to his rare gift at navigating the hells. If not for that—if not for the damnable project he was brought onto—he could be in the lab right now, or perhaps at home. Anything but here.

“Loosen up,” Mel tells him through the comms. “We’ll be at their location in minutes. Chill.”

Del wants to tell his twin sister to use proper mission-oriented language, but that conversation is one that they’ve had far too many times this decade. He does not miss working with her, but she is the only one he knows whose knowledge of the hells rival his.

Under normal circumstances, he would not have accepted any offer that included working with Mel.

Sapphire Clearwater, however, is never involved in normal circumstances.

“Landing in five,” Mel says, her grating voice setting Del’s nerves on edge. “Four. Three—“

Del activates Hellbend, letting himself sink into the altered reality around him, and the two of them slide to a stop immediately. He only uses a portion of his power, of course, so he doesn’t pit his will against this hell’s Titan—Del changes a scant few things, canceling out their momentum and placing them just outside the keep where his companions are.

Something is wrong. He feels it when he bends the hell. Reality is degrading. Reality is always degrading in the hells, but this time, it feels different. Malicious.

He pushes it aside. Del’s job isn’t to kill the experiment. It’s just to find it.

They arrive to the keep find it completely free of demons. Live ones, at least.

Mel and Del pick their way through the mess of corpses.

“Disgusting,” Del pronounces.

His sister, on the other hand, practically squeals with joy. “Wow! Didn’t think the people ahead of us had the firepower to do that.”

Two centuries old and still a teenager. Del shakes his head.

At least they’re able to find the others soon enough.

#

“Sere, Alexa, Vander, Ilhun, Dreyas, Logan,” Mel says, greeting each of the other scientists. “You six look beat up.”

Del doesn’t bother looking over them. He used one of his myriad helldiver skills earlier to ascertain which of the demon project workers had dived straight into circles lower than his. None of those in the 9th circle are of any import.

“It’s great to see you, Del, Mel,” someone—Dreyas, Del thinks—says. “We’ve found the demon.”

Now that piques Del’s interest. The experiment has been a particular interest of his since he was assigned to it, and he desires nothing more than to examine a sample of its growth and return to the surface.

“This keep is startlingly intact,” Del notes. “The experiment is a nascent Titan, is it not?”

“I’ve been telling you, that has to have been a one-time trick,” Mel says.

“You have not touched this project in four months,” Del replies shortly. “Do not think to lecture me on it.”

“I’m not sure,” the man—that definitely is Dreyas—replies. “She nearly took my head off, but we managed to escape. Once we figured out how to control the keep, we realized we could keep her out.”

“See?” Mel says. “One-time trick.”

“You two are the experts of the hells, aren’t you?” Alexa asks. “You need to help us out here. We’re safe, for now, but we can’t dive back for hours. We’re stuck here.”

Del looks at her, providing her his best disdainful glare. She’s Category 2, just like him. Pathetic. She should know better.

“Direct me to the experiment,” Del orders. “Once I have enough of the experiment, we can retreat. Until then, make yourself useful.”

“You… you are the hell expert, aren’t you?” Alexa asks.

“I am,” Del tells her. So irritating. Why can’t she just do what he tells her to? “Make. Yourself. Useful.”

“Back off, bro,” Mel says, elbowing him.

“Show us towards the experiment or I will leave you and find it myself,” Del says. He has no time for this.

“Well,” Dreyas—no, Alexa—no, all of them—say. “Funny you should say that.”

Alexa’s face distorts, twisting in on itself and collapsing into a bloody mess. Del yelps in surprise, jumping backward.

Dreyas’ skin melts.

Del curses, jumping back. He can’t let whatever is killing them do the same to him.

Domain: Perfect Null.

The world slips into gray as Del’s personal hell manifests itself around him. Even a Jade can’t break its way in. He won’t be able to affect anything outside the domain, but he can assess the situation.

Vander crumples into a heap.

No. His domain is supposed to prevent this. No effects from the outside world can affect the inside. How?

Logan, Ilhun, and Sere—he’s not sure which is which—implode, leaving nothing but a bloody remnant.

A bloody remnant that moves.

Six humanoid forms rise from the twisted, torn-apart remains of the people that should’ve been his team. They drip red, because that is all they are.

“Mmmm,” one of them says. Its voice is feminine. Not a voice he’s heard yet. “I guess you do know something about the hells. I don’t think Sierra can make it in.”

“Mel,” Del says, struggling to hold onto his skill. “Do something.”

With his domain active, he’s entirely reliant on others to actually do damage. He can drop the domain, but that might expose him to the poison or corruption or whatever effect has now claimed six researchers’ lives.

“Oh,” Mel says, “You poor thing. Did you really think this would hold?”

Del turns to her in horror.

When she speaks again, her voice changes with every word. It shifts to match that of the first six scientists in the order she introduced them in.

“I suppose you can teach me,” she says, and then her voice changes one more time. To that of the blood-shapes. “After all, there’s so much I still have to learn.”

He can do nothing but watch as the creature wearing Mel’s face sheds it, her form shifting into that of another woman’s. Short brown hair lengthens and darkens, helldiving outfit disappears, and blue eyes become a deep, bloody red.

“Annihilate,” she whispers, and Del’s ultimate skill pops like a soap bubble. The Ninth Circle tears with it, revealing the truth of the situation.

How could I be so stupid? Del asks himself. How could I not have seen this?

He feels his heart stop. Feels the blood in his arteries freeze in place.

“We’ve started breaking this hell apart,” the demon says, cupping clawed fingers around his cheeks. “Why don’t you tell me what we’re seeing?”

Dive, he insists. Dive. Escape Plan. Anchored Teleport.

“None of that will work here,” Evelyn Carnelian tells him. “I’ll give you this: your sister lasted seventeen minutes before breaking. Let’s see if you manage the same.”

Del begins to scream when she tears his left eye out.

He does not stop for a very, very long time.