Demonic Conqueror: Heroic Valor - Chapter 29.1, 29.2

Simon found himself decently impressed by the Hurricane's main headquarters. Whereas Bastian's safehouse had been disguised as an abandoned building in the slums, this was hidden in plain sight, masquerading as a legitimate business in the upper city district. They'd been plotting Helmund's downfall while living a stone's throw away from where Caelryn's nobility resided.

Although the 'store' had closed its doors for the day – and for every day afterwards, probably. Piers was about to turn the city upside-down and shake it loose for any traces of Demonic intent. Despite how well this base may have served the Hurricane up until now, it would be compromised by sundown.

Inside, over thirty people were frantically hurrying around, grabbing weapons and Artifacts and handfuls of parchment. The rebels had seemingly prepared for when a day like this would come. They exhibited a sort of organized disarray as they got ready, always on the move yet never wasting time.

And that whirlwind of activity froze the instant Simon's group arrived.

The transmigrator smiled brightly as silence engulfed the room, so thick and oppressive that you could have heard a pin drop. His Shapeshifted right arm was proudly displayed, drawing every rebel's gaze as if he'd sauntered in with a bomb strapped to his side.

Simon had kept it in human form while traveling through the city, but there was no point in hiding here. Bastian and Cyna had already sent runners ahead to inform the Hurricane that a Demon would soon be darkening their doorstep.

For all the good that it did. The rebels may have mentally prepared themselves for a day of reckoning, or a clash with the nobility, yet this was something else entirely. Many of them cowered, brandishing crystalline, eight-sided devices like holy symbols to ward off a creature of the night. Identify informed Simon that they were holding Artifacts designed to fire sacred mana when activated.

Well, the joke was on them – unlike true Demons, he only had a very slight weakness to sacred mana. He'd learned as much back in Springwater Village, when he was bathed in its radiance by an overzealous warrior. The Artifact's flashy attack had accomplished little more than giving him a mild sunburn.

"Ancient One take us all," a rebel whispered. "The Demon actually came." His eyes darted around the room, glancing rapidly from person to person, as if astonished that no one was freaking out. "Are...are we truly going to pretend like this is normal?"

"It most certainly isn't." Bastian stepped forward, raising his voice before they could work themselves up into a panic. Good thing – Katarina and Tomas weren't cut out for public speaking, and Cyna was still processing that she'd been roommates with a Fell abomination. "Yet needs must, and war makes for strange bedfellows."

He spread his arms wide, adopting a mixture of playful charisma and deathly-serious gravitas. "I assume you were briefed in advance regarding our newest...ally. Allow me to introduce him. This man with the grotesque arm is named Simon, or so he claims. He is indeed a Demon – and more importantly, he is indeed the one who dealt a grievous blow to Piers Helmund himself."

Dozens of eyes turned to stare at the transmigrator again, fearful and calculating.

In the past, Simon had sometimes wondered if he would ever grow weary of the mistrust people felt when they first learned who he was...but honestly? It had its upsides. They always made so many assumptions about him, and he got to either enjoy proving them wrong – or cheerfully live up to whatever elaborate scenario they'd concocted in their minds.

It offered a surprising amount of social flexibility. Maybe even more than if he'd been a typical human. He could push boundaries without people really calling him out on it, because that's what they'd expected of him regardless, and any small acts of kindness he tossed their way were given far more weight than they rightfully should have.

"Have you taken leave of your senses, Bastian?" Another rebel spoke up, her voice quavering with uncertainty. "I don't care if he reached up Duke Helmund's arse and pulled out the man's lungs. You've heard the tales. By letting this aberration into our ranks, we'd be trading one tyrant for another."

Simon let out an exaggerated sigh. The sound of his voice prompted a wave of flinching and muted gasps. "Am I to be judged based on stories and hearsay of other Demons?" he said. "Don't you think that's unfair?"

"So you're saying you've never bound someone into servitude with a Contract? Never devoured their soul with that revolting appendage you call an arm?"

"Of course not." Fell Harvest drained mana, not souls. Probably. And Bastian's Contract wasn't one of servitude – the Swordsman was only killing people he would have already. Very different.

A third rebel violently shook his head, long hair tangling into knots, giving him an unhinged look that matched his widening eyes. "Won't do it. Not selling my soul! My life is my own, you hear me?! I joined the Hurricane to fight nobles, not–"

"Calm yourselves," said a new voice, ringing out from upstairs. Moments later, a woman descended the staircase, her pace gradual and unhurried.

Even without Identify, Simon would've immediately clocked her as a figure of importance in the Hurricane. All the rebels faced her as she approached – turning their backs to the Demon they'd been fretting over mere seconds ago. Her presence alone commanded their respect, some of them breaking into relieved expressions at her appearance, as if they believed that whatever call she made would be the right one.

She'd also clearly seen some things. The woman was in her late 60s or early 70s, her face covered in wrinkles and stress lines. Her skin was taut, almost leathery, the exact opposite of a pampered aristocrat who hadn't worked a day of hard labor in their life. Burn marks were visible on her lower right scalp, their shapes too uniform to have come from anything other than a branding iron.

Yet despite having been chewed up and spat out by life itself, the woman didn't hesitate as she approached, walking forward with strength in her gait. Simon detected no fear in her gaze as she examined his right arm – not even a passing glimmer of disquiet.

Seven out of ten, he thought. Still room for improvement, but I've seen much worse dramatic entrances than this.

The fact that he knew it was a dramatic entrance was the major limiting factor. She'd obviously been lingering upstairs, listening to the conversation below, waiting to intervene just before tensions exploded. Her timing was impeccable, but the manufactured element slightly detracted from its effect.

"Simon, I presume." The rebel leader – he assumed she was a leader, at least of the charter in Caelryn City – greeted him with a steadfast tone. She wasn't talking down to him, but she wasn't yielding an inch, either. "You've caused quite a stir."

Identify.

Name: Marlene Besnard
Estimated Level: 30

No time to read the Description without leaving an awkward pause. That was fine – he'd just wanted the name.

"A pleasure to meet you, Marlene." Simon extended his left human arm. "I'm right-handed, personally, but I imagine it's more palatable if we shake like this."

Her eyes narrowed by a fraction. She hadn't introduced herself, and it was unlikely that Bastian or Cyna would've revealed her name to anyone outside their organization – let alone a Demon of highly questionable trustworthiness.

It was only a small point in his favor, but you needed every advantage you could get when negotiating with a woman whose spine was forged from steel.

The two of them grasped hands and shook once. Marlene took a second to dole out orders to the other rebels, allowing Simon to re-cast Identify and quickly examine her Description.

Name: Marlene Besnard
Description: The overall leader of the resistance group known as the Hurricane. Has been fighting the nobility for longer than most of its members have been alive. Sees no hope of victory. Is committed to her path regardless.
Estimated Level: 30

About what he'd anticipated. Still...Bastian admitted that he doesn't think the Hurricane will prevail, and apparently, neither does his boss. That's a tad depressing. Makes me question how useful they'll actually be to me.

Not that it changed anything. From the moment of his transmigration, Simon had been resolved to win this war alone if need be. Any allies he collected along the way were just a bonus.

"We'll have to skip the rest of the pleasantries," Marlene said, as she turned to face Simon again. "Were our circumstances different, I would have liked nothing more than to hear your story. Who are you? Why have you come here? Why are you consorting with Bastian and Cyna? What of those two people I don't recognize – the red-haired woman and the man sporting a battle wound?"

Her voice hardened with fierce determination. "But those are questions for later. For now...we have a Helmund to kill."

Marlene's declaration sent a ripple of shock sweeping through the rebels. They didn't seem completely surprised – they'd already been considering this as a possibility – but hearing it spoken aloud had made it all too real.

"Oh, good." Simon grinned. "Was worried I'd have to waste time convincing you. We're in agreement on assassinating Piers?"

"If the reports of his injuries weren't exaggerated? Yes."

Marlene's gaze flickered towards his Demonic arm. "Explain what you did to him. Our scouts told of silver claws rending noble flesh. Of bountiful mana failing to restore his body. Of a Helmund scion, fleeing with his tail tucked between his legs. Is any of that true?"

"All of it. I tore his throat out."

She hesitated. "...Was it satisfying?"

Simon's grin deepened. "Like you wouldn't believe."

Just for an instant, euphoric savagery blazed within Marlene's gaze.

Then it was back to business. "Normally, we wouldn't dare try to assassinate Piers." She turned around in a slow circle as she spoke, addressing everyone in the room. "His mana may be a flickering ember compared to his father's roaring flame, but that matters little when it would consume us all the same. Ever since our guiding light was taken from us, the prospect of killing Helmund's spawn has been no better than a fantasy – alluring, yet unattainable."

Guiding light? Simon filed away the detail for later, not wanting to interrupt.

"Now things have changed," Marlene continued. "Duke Helmund is residing in the Capital City, and from what we know, he won't be returning to Caelryn for some time. Furthermore, the injury that Piers suffered is no ordinary ailment. Long have we theorized that wounds inflicted by Fell creatures would stymie a Helmund's capacity for healing. Naturally, it has remained as only a theory..."

She pointed at Simon. "Until our Demon here confirmed it for us."

'Our' Demon. Marlene was including him in the proceedings. Hyping him up to the wary rebels. Laying groundwork for them to work together.

How badly does she want this alliance? She must have given it a lot of thought beforehand – reckless people didn't last decades in her kind of profession.

Which meant that Marlene believed the pros outweighed the cons. Even if Simon was a Demon, even if she couldn't have foreseen a more dubious ally if she'd tried...it was still worth getting him on board, risks be damned.

"Fell creatures stymie a Helmund's healing," he repeated. "You're saying that my claws will prevent Piers from regenerating? Piers, specifically?"

"And the Duke himself, most likely. Those of the Helmund line are susceptible."

Strange. Simon hadn't noticed that being an issue with the people injured by the Fell Beast in Springwater. Their wounds had been brutal, but healing potions did help, and they were on the mend by the time he'd left.

Marlene eyed him curiously. "Is that not why you struck? Are you implying that you were unaware your ambush would cripple Piers?"

Before she could question him further, Katarina placed a gentle hand on the transmigrator's shoulder. "Simon..." Her voice was filled with concern. "When you used Sin Scry...what did it show you?"

He had no answer. His throat went dry, palms clammy, muscles tensing, adrenaline spiking. Memories assaulted him, and he fought them back with deranged fervor, like a cornered animal lashing out with tooth and claw.

"Thank you for informing me of this weakness in Helmund's lineage." Simon forced the words out, his tone wooden, unable to look Kat in her eyes. "I will exploit it to the best of my ability. That is why we must strike today, correct? Before the anti-healing effect wears off."

Marlene slowly nodded. "Piers is weak now. Weaker than he's been in years, I think. Can't say how long it'll take for his healing magic to start working again, but...we'll find him first. We must."

"And that's just from one injury," Simon added. "Imagine if I inflict more. While it seems like he can still use his mana offensively, considering how he punched through a wall with minimal effort, all the strength in the world won't matter when he's bleeding out on the floor."

He exhaled, regaining a bit of his stride. "I'll be forthright. You need me. Even setting aside Piers' weakness to Fell mana, I can guarantee that I'm the most powerful fighter in this room." Marlene was technically one Level higher, but all the bonus stats he'd accrued from Fell Harvest meant that he was far stronger than his own Level indicated. "You need me – and luckily for you, I am graciously willing to cooperate."

The transmigrator raised his right arm, its black scales glittering in the light. "But only if we seal the deal with a Contract."

"Expected nothing less," Marlene said with a chuckle, even as her subordinates recoiled. "I hold no reservations about who and what you are, Simon. Present your Contract. Let's discuss terms."

A woman after my own heart.

His arm began to glow as Fell energy coalesced around him. The light dimmed, frenzied whispers rising up from nowhere, shadows dancing as if they were celebrating a macabre festival of horrors.

Only Simon, Katarina, and Marlene kept their composure as the Contract formed. Everyone else displayed a variety of fascinating reactions, ranging from dread, to disbelief, to looking like they were about to be ill. Bastion grimaced. Cyna cursed. Tomas the barfly had the face of someone who'd realized – much too late – that he was way in over his head.

They all watched on as blackened words appeared above Simon.

Clause 1: This Contract will be between the Contractor, known as Simon Cobblestone, and the Contractee, named Marlene Besnard. Simon Cobblestone is the initiator of this Contract.
Clause 2: Simon Cobblestone will assist the Hurricane in their assassination attempt on Piers Helmund today. He will personally attempt to kill Piers Helmund, and shall make an earnest effort to do so, as long as the Hurricane continues to fight alongside him.
Clause 3: In return, Marlene Besnard will never betray Simon Cobblestone, in any capacity, whether directly or indirectly. This includes but is not limited to: attacking him physically, selling him out to other factions, unfairly disparaging him to members of the Hurricane, or enticing the Hurricane to move against him.

"I already see problems," Marlene began. She tapped her foot, examining the Contract with a scrutinizing gaze. "It goes to great pains to ensure that I cannot betray you – yet there's no recourse for if you betray us."

The transmigrator gasped in a pantomime of shock. "Why, I'm offended. Do you truly trust me so little?"

She sent him an unamused glare. Simon didn't mind. If anything, he'd been hoping that she would haggle. Perhaps it was his Demonic instincts influencing him, but negotiating was fun.

He drew upon his Fell mana, devising new Clauses that would reassure the Hurricane while leaving wiggle room on his end.

Clause 4: Clause 3 is dependent on Simon Cobblestone's continual willingness to slay both Piers Helmund and Duke Helmund.
Clause 5: Simon Cobblestone also agrees not to betray the Hurricane in any capacity today. However, if he believes the battle against Piers Helmund is fundamentally unwinnable, he is allowed to flee.

"That's still weighted in your favor." Marlene gestured at Clause 5, then 3. "You won't betray us 'today', yet I am bound not to betray you in perpetuity – or until you decide to stop conspiring against the Helmunds."

"Contacts don't have to be equal. In all honesty, you need me more than I need you. I bring more to the table, so I get to demand concessions."

Simon pointed upwards. "Here's another."

Clause 6: On this day, Marlene Besnard will devote an appropriate amount of Hurricane resources towards rescuing the prisoners of Piers Helmund, located in Caelryn City's Sanctuary Grove.

Several seconds passed as no one said a word, their fear supplanted by confusion. For the first time, Marlene seemed legitimately surprised.

"Prisoners in..." Her fists clenched as realization struck her. "This is true?"

She was looking at Simon now, not the Contract, a wintry-cold fury swelling within her. "We were aware that he's killed people who 'wouldn't be missed', but he's keeping some of them? Torturing them?"

Torture is putting it lightly.

Marlene's reaction was proof that Piers had kept the vast majority of his activities secret. He'd only allowed whispered rumors to disseminate amongst the public – just enough to build a reputation, make commoners shrink in fear when he walked into a room.

They didn't know that what they'd heard was merely the tip of the iceberg.

"Piers won't waste manpower guarding the Sanctuary Grove if he's canvassing the city for me," Simon explained. "And even if we kill him as fast as we can, Duke Helmund will be investigating Caelryn soon afterwards – including the Grove that his son loved to frequent. There's no guarantee we'll have time to act later. Right now is our best chance to rescue Piers'...playthings."

The word tasted like acid in his mouth. "You've got over thirty fighters. I recommend sparing a third of them for this task."

Loud muttering erupted among the rebels. Theories were traded back and forth like gossip, almost as if they'd forgotten the Demon was there and could easily hear them.

Marlene cut through the chatter with a well-practiced tone. "What are your intentions, Simon?" she asked. "How does rescuing Piers' victims further your goals, whatever those may be?"

"It doesn't," he confessed. "This is just something I have to do."

People who hadn't been trapped in a Sin Scry vision for far too long would never understand.

"You can hardly expect me to believe that," she argued. "If there is some hidden motive we are not privy to–"

"He isn't lying."

Katarina sighed and shook her head as she spoke up. "Simon does this sort of thing every now and then. If you're planning to work with him moving forward, then you should brace yourself to accommodate his...flights of altruistic fancy."

The transmigrator felt conflicted. On one hand, he appreciated that Kat was sticking up for him.

On the other hand – flights of altruistic fancy? Seriously? She didn't have to phrase it like that.

After all, he had an image as an enigmatic, intimidating Demon to maintain.

"...I shall take that into consideration." Marlene reread the Contract, her lips lowering into a frown. "Though it may be irrelevant. While my heart burns for those tormented by Piers, we'll need every last man and woman we can muster today. Even more than killing the nobleman, finding him will be our largest hurdle. We haven't the faintest idea where exactly he's run off to – could be any number of buildings that he owns."

Simon held up a finger. "Give me fifteen seconds."

With one swift motion, he grabbed Katarina and dashed past everyone. The Arcane Rogue squawked in complaint as he carried her over to the staircase, then sprinted up, taking the steps three at a time. They arrived at the second floor in short order, leaving behind a room full of stunned rebels.

Safe here, he thought, after confirming that this floor was empty. Relatively speaking. He wasn't about to use an ability that locked him into a trance when there was an audience around. Marlene didn't seem to want him dead yet, but it would only take one anxious, short-tempered fool to reduce his still-meager HP to 0.

Before Kat could say anything, Simon sent her a hand signal, telling her to wake him if anyone attacked. He positioned himself in a far-end corner, cast a 100 MP Barrier to cover his body, and hoped for the best.

Eavesdrop.

The world faded.

Relief coursed through Simon as his Skill successfully activated. Eavesdrop would automatically fail if used on a target that he hadn't met in-person, but it seemed that its definition of 'meeting' someone wasn't limited to just exchanging words.

Apparently, having his throat ripped to pieces had left an impression on Piers.

"FIND HIM!" A blurred figure was pacing around in circles, gesturing wildly at unseen people. "USE ANY MEANS! TORCH THE CITY IF IT WOULD SMOKE HIM OUT!"

Piers had healed enough to talk...barely. His voice was an ugly thing, suffused with venom, hatred, and an innate loathing for anyone who wasn't himself. The distorted, gurgling noises caused by his neck wound were the least-unsettling part – even without them, he still would have sounded more monster than man.

That's how it felt to Simon, at any rate. Admittedly, he wasn't an unbiased judge.

"My lord." One of Piers' sycophants popped into view, bowing their head so low that it was practically scraping the floor. "Please understand that the Demon could be anywhere. It will take time to–"

"DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SPEAK?!"

In a blink, Piers was clutching him by the throat. The sycophant was bulky, and taller by several inches, but that didn't stop him from being lifted into the air as if he were a feather.

"Find this Demon within the hour." The Helmund scion had dropped his voice to a hiss, rivulets of blood seeping out from his ruined neck. "Fail, and your life is forfeit, as are the lives of all those you hold dear. Defy me again, and their deaths will not be quick."

"No! My lord, plea–"

Simon ended the Eavesdrop. He didn't need to see any more.

A part of him wished that he could get angry at what he'd seen, wished that he could summon stronger emotions over Piers threatening a man's family...but something like this didn't even move the needle. Nothing could make him despise the nobleman more than he already did.

There were only so many variations of "I'll turn your existence into living agony", and Simon had heard them all during Sin Scry.

And yet Piers kept most of what he did under wraps, he thought. It's not as if anyone would or could have stopped him. He just...didn't want people to know. There's a difference between being looked at with fear and looked at with revulsion. The former is amusing, while the latter would've been uncomfortable, spoiling his whimsical jaunts around Caelryn.

This way, he could indulge his depraved vices – without taking accountability for them.

Simon dispelled the Barrier. Marlene, Bastian, and Cyna had run up to the second floor as he was busy Eavesdropping. They were staring at him with questions plain on their faces.

"We met a serial killer when first arriving at Caelryn City," he muttered, to no one in particular. "Armand Calloway. A broken shell of a man. Scarcely even conscious when not partaking in his hobby. It felt appropriate, you know? Only someone with such an abnormal, twisted mindset could hurt so many for so little reason."

The transmigrator let out a hollow laugh. "But that's just me deluding myself. Armand was uniquely insane. Unlike him, most monsters function perfectly fine in society. Maybe they're a family of slavers, robbing people of their futures, then happily sitting around a campfire together. Maybe they're a powerful nobleman, visiting local taverns for fun, before heading off to ruin lives on a lark. Maybe they're a wealthy merchant, callously ordering people's deaths from afar, never dirtying their own hands – yet filling graves all the same."

His arms twitched with long-remembered pain. "None of them lose sleep over any of it. They commit atrocities, then just...go about their day."

Everyone else was at a loss for words.

Still, Katarina made an effort, stepping forward. "Simon–"

"I've found Piers Helmund."

His voice was distressingly jovial as he explained. "I utilized Demon magic to pinpoint where the bastard is hiding. If you follow me, I can lead you straight to him."

That was a useful side effect of Eavesdrop. From its Description: 'Distance is no object, and using this Skill will inform you of the target's precise location.'

Simon didn't know what building Piers was in, or even the general layout of the upper city district, but none of that mattered. Eavesdrop would act as a compass, pointing him where he needed to go.

Marlene didn't hesitate. "You're set on rescuing the prisoners at the Grove?" she asked. "Even though it would take away manpower from assaulting Piers' current location, thereby making a herculean task that much harder?"

"Yes. It's non-negotiable."

A flicker of approval flashed in her gaze. "Add another Clause to your Contract. Guarantee that you speak the truth – that you know where Piers is. Vow that you'll lead us to him. Do so, and I'll sign."

Simon obliged. After a bit of thought, he went ahead and added a Clause 8 as well. The Contract was getting rather lengthy and verbose, but that's what happened when you negotiated with someone who cared about the details.

"The Hurricane will provide full healing to Simon Cobblestone before embarking on their attempt to kill Piers Helmund." Marlene arched an eyebrow as read out Clause 8. "You're certain of this? From what the legends speak of, sacred mana is anathema to Demons, and healing magic is derived from that."

"Oh, don't worry. I think you'll find that it's much more effective on me than you'd expect."

--

He was right. The resident Hurricane healer was left gobsmacked when they cast their spells, mouth hanging open as they saw Simon's injuries rapidly close. His flesh regenerated faster than a normal human's would have – and without any of the debilitating exhaustion that should've resulted from healing a body that had been put through a blender.

Preparations went swiftly after that. The rebels didn't want to miss their window of opportunity. While unlikely, it wasn't impossible that Piers would decide to flee the city.

Much like Tomas, who'd slipped away and vanished without a trace. All that remained was a hastily-scrawled note apologizing for leaving everyone to wage this war without him.

Few were surprised. Most had thought he'd run even earlier. They were accustomed to people avoiding the Hurricane like the plague.

Only Simon felt disappointed – at least initially. To him, after seeing so many commoners bound by inaction, Tomas' bravery had been a breath of fresh air. Here was a man who spurred others forward. He'd been the first to throw a chair at Piers' retinue, and the rest of the bar may not have followed suit without his example.

Realistically, though, Tomas had already done his part by rising up against royalty despite great peril to himself. Asking any more of him would be irresponsible at best, callous at worst.

Not everyone was cut out for joining what could very well be a suicide mission.

Simon spent the little time available to him discussing battle plans with Bastian, Katarina – and Cyna, who refused to be excluded. From the piercing look in her eyes, the woman's suspicions had grown after watching him forge a Contract with Marlene.

The transmigrator could tell that he'd be answering a lot of questions in the near future. For now, Cyna was willing to delay her interrogation to focus on the big picture.

Simon also took a moment to allocate his Unspent Stat Points. He only had 3, less than usual, but every point was important. He'd witnessed that firsthand when 19 HP – nearly equal to 2 points in Vitality – had been all that separated him from life and death.

Vitality: 39 → 42

Yeah. Strength and Dexterity were slightly lagging behind, but he could help them catch up after dealing with Piers. Injured or otherwise, the nobleman's offensive mana was going to hit like a truck. Simon needed the extra survivability in case his Barriers proved insufficient to defend himself.

Then, finally, at long last...

It was time.

As everyone set off, a mantle of grim determination settled onto the Hurricane like a heavy cloak. They knew that many of them would die. They knew that all of them might die, their once-in-a-lifetime chance squandered utterly.

And while they'd known the risks when joining a treasonous rebellion, there was a difference between dreaming of revolution and actively marching against a demigod protected by hundreds of trained soldiers. It was a testament to the Hurricane's dedication that, when faced with the truth of their own imminent mortality, none of them ran.

As for Simon?

He was merely wondering how far he could push this.

Slaying Piers was the ultimate goal, of course. The nobleman's death was priority #1.

But it wasn't the only goal. Simon could think of another – one that would grant him progress in spades.

If he was going for broke, betting everything on this mission...

May as well try for a jackpot.

--

Thanks for reading!