A Deal With The Devil

Ysha, the Capital of the Neran Kingdom, had never seen such troop movements of this magnitude since the takeover all those years ago. Spearheading this troop movement was a tall knight clad in red armor. Each step dug deep into the cobblestone streets as the knights of Emperor Nero made their way to this seemingly abandoned cathedral. The Red Knight, Cybele, raised her sword as it glistened against the moonlight, “Hear me, knights!”

The knights all abruptly stopped in their tracks, “These cultists will put up a difficult fight, even for us. Remember what it is that you fight for! Your family, your friends! The comrades by your side! Remember what these heathens stand for!”

Each knight stood to remember a tragedy caused by the Demon Lord’s rule. The deaths of brothers, of mothers and fathers. The destruction of homes, poverty, starvation. They stood here now not just to protect the Capital City, but to protect their lives as well.

As far as they’re concerned, each cultist is a Demon Lord that they must slay.

Still, inside that chamber was a quiet tension. A rope taut as if it was about to snap, “Greetings, traveler from another world,” Theophilus spoke first, “You may find yourself vexed at the sudden removal from your daily life, but I assure you, this is no trick.” He studied the man in front of him: a thin white long sleeved coat over what seemed to be a uniform. His hair was unkempt, short, dark. His eyes an even deeper shade of darkness, as though the man had not slept in weeks. Theophilus wondered if this person was a good candidate, if he could even speak at all in this state.

To Theophilus’ surprise, he could, “Get me home,” Was his plea, “I have a sister to cook meals for, and a question to answer,” Faust held onto the cuttings in his lab coat’s pocket, his gaze squarely upon Theophilus’ prideful glare.

“Interesting. We can arrange the former, but can you tell me about the latter? What question do you want answered?” Both of them knew that there was a deal that was happening right now. A potential clash of ideals that would decide the factor of this world.

“What makes a God a God?”

Theophilus smirked, “That question I can answer, but such an answer doesn’t come cheap. Listen, traveler, to this offer. The answer to all of your questions regarding divinity, the purpose of God and their role in this universe, a safe passage for you to get back to your previous life, all without disturbances whatsoever. In exchange, you will become the vessel of the Demon Lord, hunt down the heroes who once slew him and use their souls to resurrect the Almighty.” Theophilus reached out his hand. The dark essence of the Demon Lord’s soul floated above it, squirming, beating like a heart.

“And if I refuse?”

“There’s no grounds for refusal, you will be used as fuel for the next summoning.”

As Theophilus spoke, the sound of battle outside rang louder. The screams of his cultists and the battle cry of the soldiers all reverberated into a singular disgusting cacophony, “That doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“Right,” Theophilus groaned, “Speak your terms then, as if we could add anything to the Demon Lord’s unfathomable power.”

“I’m not unfamiliar with making deals with the devil. I am Akiyama Faust. My father gave me that name when he–once upon a time, met a traveler who offered him riches in exchange for his soul. I will not make that same mistake. If I am to carry your Demon Lord’s soul and become his vessel, then let my soul remain. At the end of this bargain, once all needs are met, my soul won’t be tainted whatsoever.”

Faust was a researcher, not a theologist. His belief in souls were only minimal and in some form romantic. The only thing he had going for him was going with the flow of the other’s statements, which, even though fantastical, could hold some form of merit. His gaze fell all over the chamber, trying to find cameras, lights, anything that would indicate that this was still a place in the real world.

There were none. The air was filled with smoke and blood, his spine tingled, his senses signaled him to run, but run where? This deal–if it was real, and he had no indication that it was, would be his only hope of survival. At the very least, when making a deal with the Devil, you should at least try to keep your soul.

The Devil was at a disadvantage right now, after all, “Granted. You’ll keep your soul. So long as you keep your end of the bargain,” Theophilus raised his hand and bestowed his Demon Lord’s soul upon the wayward traveler, “I’m sure you will.”

Faust felt every bone in his body slowly collapse in on itself. He fell to his knees as every piece of his nervous system burned to ashes then rebuilt itself, his hoarse screams echoed throughout the chamber, damned and reverberating. Cybele heard this scream and rushed towards the source of the sound, yet that didn’t matter to him. What mattered were the twisting of his bones which healed itself as he tried to stand, as he tried to power through the pain that the Demon Lord is putting him through.

Then, the smell of disinfectant wafted through the air. It permeated through his pores as though it came from inside of him, “This should keep you up until your body stabilizes from the process,” A soft female voice spoke from inside his head as her figure gradually formed in his peripheral vision.

It was a witch. She wore a dark green dress topped by a red coat with gold ornaments at its sleeves, her skin was pale as snow, and her dark green eyes emphasized the goldness of her long hair. She floated on the air as though weightless, and her pale white hands seemed to reach out towards Faust as green energy emanated from it, “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Faust felt the room shake behind him. The bodies of a dozen cultists were launched through the door by the might of Cybele, the red knight glared down at his squirming form. One that gradually, slowly, stabilized into something that vaguely resembled a human.

In front of Faust lay several weapons: A bow, a dagger, a sword. He thought for a moment if this was the part in the game where the player is asked to choose what class to start on. Admittedly, he would’ve preferred being a mage but I don’t think that’s an option, “I’ll teach you magecraft later,” The witch said, “Just deal with Cybele for now. We can’t beat her so we need an escape.”

“Fine,” Faust groaned. Cybele. It was that knight clad in a deranged red armor that stood in front of him. The colors were indistinguishable from blood, and he wondered through his pained and bated breaths if his was going to be a part of it.

He grabbed the sword, the only weapon he knew how to use. He was quickly met with Cybele’s charge into an overhead slash, one that Faust blocked with his sword. The clash of the two blades shook the entire chamber and sent the frail man down a few feet. Despite this, he didn’t feel exhausted, only that he found his strength was not enough against her.

“If that’s the case,” Faust breathed out, his eyes focused on Cybele’s sword. It was massive, almost twice her size and yet she carried it around so easily. He noticed that it was chipped and damaged from years of use and resembled more of a blunt weapon than anything that could slice. His sword, on the other hand, remained fresh despite tanking the brutal blow of such a heavy object.

If this was one of the Demon Lord’s powers then he’s glad to use it, “Sorry to burst your concentration,” The witch inside his head said, “We might need to run away from her.”

“I know that,” Cybele charged again, her sword narrowly grazing Faust’s head who rolled away from her, “What the hell are you even doing!?”

Cybele continued her relentless assault towards Faust. Their swords clashing narrowly against each other’s head, “Saving you, dummy! There’s so much I can do being trapped inside your head, you know!?” Faust felt an energy coming from his sword. It was the Witch’s power which kept it from breaking from each relentless blow, “On the next hit, run outside… NOW!”

Their blades clashed and a huge cloud of smoke exploded from it. In a rush, Faust ran out of the chamber, yet was quickly blocked by more than a dozen soldiers who spotted him down the abandoned cathedral’s hallways. The light of the moon shone through the windows at the side as their armor glittered; clean, untouched.

Faust gritted his teeth. He survived that brief encounter with Cybele so perhaps the Demon Lord’s power granted him some physical prowess, he had no choice but to advance. Especially because he felt a chill run down his spine. Cybele, that red knight, walked out of the smoke unfazed. She turned her gaze towards him.

Faust dashed through the pack of soldiers and swung his sword wildly. It felt natural to him, it slid through their armor, through their skin. It was like he danced across the entire hallway leaving bodies in his wake. He could barely hear the screams of the soldiers with his adrenaline rush. A slash, a slice, another, and another, and another, until he reached the end of the hallway.

Cybele trailed behind him, yet he kept going in a desperate bid to find an exit. The bodies of passing soldiers quickly piled up behind him, their torches snuffed with a single lick of his blade.

He found himself at the main chamber where rows and columns of long wooden chairs sat empty before a shrine. The shrine had a stone statue of a messianic figure, robes fell upon its body as it reached for a distant star, “Stop sightseeing, we need to go. I’m Alice, by the way.” The witch finally introduced herself, “Only you can see me, if it wasn’t obvious, as I only exist in your head. Like a hallucination!”

Despite that, she sat on one of the chairs as though she was as exhausted as the man who ran and killed a hundred people despite not having done it before in his life, “Nice to meet you, Alice, can we catch a breather first?” Faust felt like he was going to be sick. The dizziness and exhaustion slowly set in, he felt the bile rising from his stomach.

“Sure, but Cybele’s coming and it’s–”

The large wooden door of the cathedral swung open and before Faust could even catch another breath, the hundred dozen knights and soldiers of the Neran crashed upon the cathedral. This wasn’t like the hallway where he could use the place to his advantage. Their swords are drawn towards him on sight, and he could already hear Cybele’s steps from beyond the halls he just exited.

“Great! This is great!” Said Alice as she stood up to avoid the knights, “Seriously! It’s great!”

“How serious are you? I’m not keen on dying so quickly after making a deal for my soul, you know.”

“Very serious, dear partner–or shall I call you collaborator? For you have in you the Demon Lord’s innate and most dangerous ability.”

“And that is?” The soldiers crept closer, and so did Cybele.

“Come on, feel it out, focus. Breathe.” Alice’s soft voice lulled Faust into a calm he hadn’t felt since he entered this world half an hour ago. He tapped into the depths of his being, an unfathomable energy that welled up from his soul that he never noticed before. Perhaps because it remained dormant up until now, but it was there. A swirling miasma where the light of his soul fought the darkness of the Demon Lord’s, then it came to him.

A dreadful mist filled the cathedral, from it manifested a hundred dozen ghosts. They all wore similar armor and weapons to the soldiers. It took Faust only a moment to realize that those were the soldiers that he had slain before, “The Demon Lord’s innate ability, and the reason why he was so dangerous…”

The soldiers crafted from the mist faced the numerous soldiers that blocked the way as Alice proudly announced, “All those he had slain, their souls merge with his and they become part of his Grand Army!”