Chapter 137: The rarest of the three

James was rivetted.

Even Yadriel had ceased to crack puns.

Only Olaf still let out the occasional cry of excitement or groan of dismay, pointed out smart tactical moves or where the enemy was going to break through.

Two hours had passed.

A certain rhythm had made itself obvious.

The angels had grown in numbers to the point where the centipede centaurs had difficulty crushing them, and this had activated the third tier of demons. These had the appearance of degenerate elves, sublime in their beauty and wearing overly sexual and impractical armor. With white hair flowing down to their heels they leaped into combat, voices raised in shrieks of laughter or lilting song, and slaughtered the angels with terrible precision.

The elven demons would have slain the angels all the quicker if a significant part of their number had stopped to either dine or mate with the corpses.

But the angels had returned in greater and greater numbers, and by the hour and a half mark were fielding an army almost a hundred thousand strong.

The elves, for all their savage power and grace, couldn’t get through that many before arrows took them down.

Which resulted in the activation of the first flying demons. These came in three types: a massive gargoyle off whose stone hide most weapons bounced; ribbon-like snakes that simply punched through ranks of foes like needles being pushed through a hem; and the rarest of the three were hollow suits of kingly armor who hurled bolts of black lightning that electrified scores of angels at a time.

The angelic army collapsed.

The 150,000 who appeared thirty seconds later managed to last five minutes.

The 300,000 who appeared right after lasted by ten.

When over half a million angels appeared it was a sight to behold.

“I’ll be god damn,” said Yadriel, leaning forward to peer at the glittering host. It was an awe inspiring spectacle. Square regiment after regiment marched out of the golden portals to line up with spears and shields while long lines of archers spread out at the rear. New regiments of double-handed sword wielders appeared, their helms fluted and pure silver, their robes of fire, and these took to the flanks.

Five hundred thousand angels let out a cry as one, their shout shaking the heavens, and the demons came for them.

But the archers darkened the skies with their shafts and the gargoyles fell, cratering the ground with hundreds of arrows bristling from their stony hides. The ribbon-snakes danced between the shafts but were impaled on the bristling phalanxes of spears which turned each regiment into hedgehogs, while only the king-armor demons were able to do much damage before also being taken down.

“They won,” said Olaf, almost giddy with joy. “They - oh.”

The fifth demon rank had activated.

Each was a giant as tall as Jessica’s Somnia, a moving elemental of obsidian plates floating on an inner core of magma. Dozens strode forward, slow and purposeful, their huge heads intimating facial features but really little more than boulders.

The angels did everything they could. Arrows bounced off the elementals. The spears shattered. The double-handed swords chipped and bounced off.

And the elementals destroyed them.

Each waded into the angelic army like a toddler into the surf. Every step mangled bodies, and occasionally they’d raised an arm and detonate their first, shooting it forth like a car-sized canon. That wasn’t the worst part - from the stump lava flowed in a vast spray, immolating hundreds.

The carnage was terrible, and not one obsidian elemental fell.

“Game over, man,” whispered Yadriel.

A million golden portals appeared along the ruined army’s back line. Host Angels stepped forth - but instead of forming up to do battle, they split down the center, half racing to the right, the rest to the left.

“What the hell?” asked James. “What are they…?”

“They know they cannot fight giants,” said Olaf. “Ah! So they go fight those they can kill.”

The army had split into two, and each half raced away from the lumbering elementals to charge into the stoic wings of the demon army, the distant forces that hadn’t yet been pulled into battle. These awoke and quickly oriented on the new forces: huge ogres on the front line, centipede centaurs behind, then the degenerate elves, then the flying fiends.

Both army halves were crushed within ten or so minutes as the obsidian elementals finally caught their rear and the fronts were overwhelmed by new foes.

Two million portals opened.

“Looks like that’s the new plan,” said Serenity. “Regenerate, flee to the wings, kill as many new lower-level demons as possible, then regenerate some more.”

“Makes sense,” said James. “They can’t beat the obsidian giants. So they’ll just wash along the demon front like a wave along a tide wall.”

The waves of angelic replacements were no longer neatly organized in groups. Angels were dying all the time now, giving rise to their individual portals thirty seconds later, so that soon hundreds of thousands of reinforcements were constantly streaming to the front line. The far edge of battle was beginning to reach to the limits of James’s natural vision, curling back with the line, engaging ever more demons and pulling them into war.

“Man, you sure we ain’t losing out on XP here?” asked Yadriel.

“Anything the angels can kill is beneath us,” said James.

“What would happen if we dropped a Dominion on this situation?” asked Serenity.

“It’d probably kill everything on this plane.” James rubbed at his jawline. “Which would be a waste of a Dominion. We’re going to need those guys at the last levels.”

“At what point do we get involved?” asked Serenity, peering down at the epic battle now taking place below. “The black stone giants are making this pretty unfair on our little guys.”

“There should be eight ranks in all,” said James. “The elementals are rank five. It’s been almost a couple of hours. We’ve got…” James checked. “Less than an hour left till the ogre wave gets released. At the rate they’re doubling? The Host Angels could be at ten million by then? Maybe twenty million? Enough to wipe out the ogres.”

“Yeah,” said Yadriel. “But don’t forget, dog, that the demons don’t like getting fucked with. They’re gonna do the reach around soon.”

“And we’ll be ready,” said James. “Which -”

“Whoa!” said Olaf, eyebrows lifting as he stared past James at the ruined castle in the distance.

James twisted and saw blue bands of burning light enveloping the tiny castle that just sat before the horizon. The light was beautiful, a soothing azure that clashed with the arid hues of the desert.

“Looks like Jessica figured some shit out,” said Serenity wryly. “She’s such an over-achiever.”

“Someone needs to be,” grinned James. “But that makes me feel better about getting everyone back together. Jelly? Can you hear me?”

Copy, capitano, said Jelly. You see what Jessica just did?

Sure did. Tell everyone it’s time to get back together out here. We’re gonna be fighting soon.

Copy, capitano! Oh, we’re going to have to wait. Jason and Miriam are making the sex acts again.

James paused. Again?

Third time since we reached this level. They are very -

Don’t need to know. James considered. Ok, give them five minutes to finish up.

That should be plenty. Jason never takes more than fifteen once he really gets going, and they’ve been at it now for -

Jelly, I don’t need to know.

Copitano, capitano. Five minutes and counting down.

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“What?” asked Serenity, a half-smile crossing her face as she examined James. “You look like you just realized the stew was made of road kill.”

“What?” James stared at her. “What stew?”

“It’s an expression.” She waved it off. “But everything OK?”

“Yeah. Everything’s… just fine.” James frowned. Fifteen minutes?! Damn. To be young again. “They’ll be heading this way soon.”

Below, the golden portals kept opening, but there were so many now that they were spreading all across the desert, an aureate reflection of the demonic ranks, unleashing an endless stream of Angelic Hosts who raced forward to do battle.

“No telling what number we’re up to now,” said Yadriel. “Millions. Shit. This is crazy.”

More obsidian elementals had been activated. The air thrummed with flying demons, was bruised by a million dying cries, the ululating war song of the demonic elves, the bovine roars of the ogres. The sand for a square mile now was red mud.

“Incoming,” said Yadriel, sitting up on his Wing.

James looked over the demon army and saw a figure floating toward them. It was a slender young man, his white hair blown about by the dry winds, his clothing fluttering, but his manner otherwise at ease. He didn’t fly as Jason did, Superman style, but rather simply stood still, hands linked behind his back, watching them with eyes that were pure white but for the pupils in their center.

“Shit,” said James. “That’s the final boss. Looks like we got his attention.”

“We run?” asked Olaf.

“No. But let’s play this safe. Protective Circles up, Angelic Armor, Bucklers, Empowering Light, Shields, the works. If things get hairy I’ll drop a teleportation circle on us.”

“I can try Banishment if he gets angry,” offered Olaf.

“I’ve been itching to try Infernum Crush or Forced Humility,” said Yadriel, cracking his knuckles in the palm of his hand. “So we got options.”

“Sure,” said James, activating his Benedictions. “We’ll see how this goes.”

By the time the demon child had reached them they were surrounded by four revolving bands of Circle of Protection. Each was encased in glowing armor, and their four Shields were layered between them and the demon. James had his sun skeggox laid across his knees, and Serenity had finished strapping one of the autocannons to her right arm.

James studied the demon. Its unassuming appearance made it somehow more intimidating than any of the other monsters fighting below. It was short for a human, its robes the purest white, the sash that cinched them at its waist fluttering in the wind. Its features were small, neat, yet possessed a gravity that belied its otherwise youthful appearance.

“I applaud your ingenuity,” said the demon, and though its voice was quiet its words carried with no difficulty. “This is not how this scenario usually plays out.”

“Usually?” asked James. “You’ve done this before?”

The corner of the youth’s lips curved up. “Its hard to express elegantly in your language, but something approximating myself has done this countless times indeed.”

James thought of the Host Angel’s cryptic explanation back in the Hopeless Tower: war is eternal. This is not the first conflict to take place, nor shall it be the last. If I die here, I shall be reborn to fight elsewhere. All is eternal, all is but a moment of infinite, repetitive duration.

Thought on Meladrix’s words, uttered a lifetime ago on the streets of New York: This has been your destiny since you were coaxed forth from the savannah and given the greatest gift. The Winnowing prepares your species for the opening of the Pits. Those who survive shall be tempered and prepared for the true war.

“Countless times. You guys go from planet to planet Winnowing innocent species to prepare them for… what? What is this true war? You think we’d honestly fight in it for you after all you’ve done to us?”

“You sound so upset.” The demon canted its head to one side, and in its voice James heard actual pity. “Down here, it’s easy to forget how brutal this all is for you. How… shocking. But always you are angry, self-righteous, ready to sacrifice yourself and yet determined to exact as great a vengeance as possible before you die.”

“What?” James narrowed his eyes. “Me? I’ve done this before?”

“You,” said the demon, waving a pale hand airily. “Whomever stands in your place each time. A leader always arises. A single figure inevitably leads the charge. This time it is James Kelly.”

Nonplussed, James glanced at his companions then back. “Well this time it’s humanity’s turn on the chopping block. And you’re damn right we’re pissed.”

“Of course you are.” The pity took a half-turn and became resignation. “As you are meant to be. Nothing drives a mortal like the most personal of vendettas.”

Serenity raised her autocannon, all three yards of it aimed precisely at the demon’s head. “You’ll find yourself pretty mortal soon, I’ll bet.”

The demon raised a pale brow. “Do you really think Eternal Fire from a big gun is going to stop me? Please.”

“Why are you talking to us?” asked James.

“Because there are three kinds of candidates, and you are the rarest of the three. The rarest and the best.”

“He’s not alone, you know,” snapped Yadriel. “What are the rest of us, chopped liver?”

The demon glanced at Yadriel dismissively. “Effectively.”

“Bastard,” snarled Yadriel, but James raised a hand.

“The best? I thought I was pissing you guys off. Meladrix sure seemed upset before I destroyed her.”

“Through me you are interacting with Level 18, the Bloodmere. At that point we need no longer play act.”

“She was play acting?”

“Do you think we would put the Light Eternal in your world and not realize what a human might do with it?” The youth raised an eyebrow again. “It’s rarely done, but when it is, we are most pleased.”

James rocked back in his Wing’s seat.

“You fucking animal,” hissed Serenity. “You’re pleased?”

“Not personally. But our kind, and those who have engineered all of this? Yes.”

“Because - why?” James hated the upsurge in emotion and need that he felt. An answer, an explanation for the endless tragedy that had befallen his world. “Why do you - or they - do this? What is this true war? What’s the point in all this?”

“You don’t get those answers at the Bloodmere level,” said the demon. “Instead here you merely earn the right to be treated with respect. Which means no more pretense. After me you will finally face real challenges. Even Lords of the Increate must tread warily on Level 19, the Obelisk of Prujar.”

“Obelisk of what now?” asked Yadriel.

“Well you done gone seen me,” said James. “But you know I don’t give a rat’s ass for how pleased you all are. I’m going to keep fighting my way…” He trailed off.

The demon’s pale gaze was almost kind.

“James?” asked Serenity.

“We’re still following their plan,” said James. “I thought we’d taken some short cuts, found ways to cheat their system, but all this…” He waved at the millions fighting below. “Even our making Lords of the Increate, all of it is still part of their plan. Nothing we’ve done has surprised them.”

“Don’t be despondent,” said the youth. “You cannot surprise us. And what choice did you have? To lie back and die? You fight because that is what you do best. But you shall have your answers at the base of the Pit, James Kelly. There, on the 27th level, all will finally be made clear to you.”

“To us,” said Serenity.

“No,” said the youth, voice saddened once more. “Only one ever reaches the base. That’s the way of it. You will die a permanent death on one of the next eight levels. As will all of James’s companions. James alone will reach the Pastures of New Hope.”

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