Lend Me a (Demon)Hand

When Gus regained consciousness, the first thing he heard was the dull thrum of drums, their rhythm pulsing through the ground.

Then came the roar, deep and harsh, a hundred voices strong. 

Orc voices, bellowing from the foot of the hill.

He blinked, disoriented.

A sickly green light flickered across his face, cast by glyphs etched into the stone beneath him, and slowly, he realized where he was.

Black Hill.

The jagged hill loomed above the raging horde: hundreds of torches swaying, hundreds of blades lifted toward the night sky.

Gus was bound fast, wrists and ankles lashed to crude wooden stakes.

Beside him, Caeriel was tied the same, her head lifted but her eyes hollow, the fire in them gone.

And before them, above a massive altar, hovered Kazzander.

His cloak snapped in the wind, horns jutting from his pale brow like a crown.

Between his hands, a vile green glow coalesced, bathing the night in poisonous light.

Gus struggled helplessly against his bonds, the coarse rope biting deep into his wrists.

Beside him, Caeriel turned her head just enough to glance his way. 

Her voice came flat, hollow, carrying the weight of defeat.

“Don’t bother. It’s useless.”

He let out a ragged laugh, part despair, part defiance.

“What happened to that legendary fight of yours, huh?”

“Even if you freed yourself, you can’t win against him. He’s too strong.”

Her gaze fell, and her voice cracked.

“Only fools keep fighting battles they cannot win.”

Disappointment and anger flashed in Gus’ eyes.

Then a laugh echoed behind them.

“She’s right,” came Kazzander’s voice, his eyes snapping open. “But don’t grieve, your end is already at hand.”

His tone was silky, laced with venom. “The preparations are complete. Your life force will flow into this altar… and from it, my orcs will feast. They’ll become unstoppable.”

He spread his hands wide and the glyphs beneath pulsed, green light crawling upward in writhing veins.

Energy coiled around Gus and Caeriel, binding their limbs and sinking beneath their skin. 

Their veins glowed a sickly green as thin streams of power were ripped free, funneled into the altar where they swelled into a seething mass of slime.

Gus gasped, each breath weaker than the last, as if his very life were being stripped away.

Still he clenched his teeth, tugging against the ropes until his wrists burned raw.

“Will you just listen?” Caeriel whispered, her voice flat. “It’s over.”

Gus snapped his head toward her.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you!? You’re just gonna sit there and let yourself get drained, turned into some kind of... orc energy drink? That’s not you!”

She closed her eyes, her words no louder than a breath.

“…I’m just tired. Tired of fighting. Day after day, nothing but war and death, and nothing ever changes. The Demon King only grows stronger. Even his officers are beyond us, how are we supposed to overcome such evil?”

“Fucking bullshit!” Gus barked, voice ragged but eyes blazing. “There’s always a way, you just don’t fucking quit! “…Even in my world we had wars so brutal whole cities vanished in seconds. But people kept fighting to survive. We didn’t stop. We pushed on, stubborn as hell, till the very last breath. That’s what mankind is: too damn stubborn to die!”

With a hoarse cry, he hurled his body against the stake. Again and again.

Caeriel blinked, startled, as if his words had cracked something in her. 

Her lips trembled, but her voice stayed faint.

“…You talk like a fool… yet… maybe a fool is what this world needs. Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe under different stars, in another time… you could have been more for me. Maybe we could have...”

THUD!

Before she could finish, the stake cracked and toppled.

Gus lay flat on his back like a flipped turtle, then grunted, shoved himself upright, and wrestled the ropes over his head.

“HA! I’m free!” he wheezed, bloodied but grinning weakly.

Caeriel stared at him in shock, but the ritual dragged on, green strands still siphoning her life into the altar.

“What are you doing!? Don’t be stupid!”

Gus staggered forward, gasping, stumbling like a drunk out of a bar.

“I'm gotta… stop him… sucking our... life force!” he muttered, and with the last of his strength hurled himself at Kazzander.

The demon was caught off guard.

“The only thing you can suck are my sweaty balls, asshole!” Gus roared.

Kazzander’s spell faltered, glyphs wavering, as the two of them crashed into the altar, slime splattering.

The demon’s face twisted with cold fury as he turned at Gus.

“You dare…”

With a flick, green chains snapped tight around Gus, slamming him onto the altar.

“I’ll show you the meaning of pain!”

Hellfire roared from Kazzander’s hand, searing across Gus’ chest and stomach.

The stink of burning flesh filled the air as Gus screamed, writhing in the flames.

“GUS!” Caeriel’s voice cracked, panic in every note.

She strained against the ropes, and with a scream, half fury, half despair, she tore until the bindings frayed.

Her fingers brushed the hidden dagger at her boot.

With the last of her strength she drew it, slashed herself free, and instantly hurled the blade at Kazzander.

It whistled through the air, aimed straight at his throat.

The demon lifted a hand, a green shield flared, and the blade clanged aside.

“Pathetic,” he sneered, barely sparing her a glance.

Kazzander had barely turned his head when, in that instant, Gus lashed out with his free hand, seizing the demon’s cloak.

“…Big mistake", the demon responded with a cold smile.

Green fire flared, engulfing Gus’ arm, the flames devouring skin and muscle. 

He howled, the stench of charred flesh thick in the night.

"ARGHHH!" Gus’ mind screamed as the fire chewed through him, every nerve set ablaze.

Caeriel lunged, steel flashing as another dagger slid free from her boot.

Kazzander let Gus drop, his charred arm blazing like a torch, and turned just as the elf spun in, blade cutting straight for his throat.

Runes flared across the demon’s palm and a storm of glowing projectiles burst forth.

Caeriel leapt, rolled, slid under a volley, two blasts exploding nearby, showering dust and shards, grazing her cheek.

On the ground, Gus whimpered, panting, the pain in his arm like a thousand knives.

His gaze flicked around in desperation, until it fixed on the altar:

On the bubbling, green sludge of demonic magic within.

“…Ughn, FUCK IT!” he hissed.

With a final desperate lunge, he plunged his burning arm into the mass.

The sludge hissed and for an instant the agony dulled, steam rose, flames sputtered out, and Gus sighed in relief.

But then came the twitch. 

The muscles in his charred arm spasmed, writhing as if something inside had taken hold.

“…the fuck!?” Gus gasped.

Demonic energy surged into his wounds, crawling through his veins. 

A sickly green light spread across his body, pulsing in rhythm with the altar itself.

He screamed, doubled over, eyes bulging as his veins writhed like a nest of snakes beneath his skin.

The sludge poured into him, alive, invading every fiber of his flesh, and with it came a wild, burning, unholy power.

“AAARGH!” Gus roared, head thrown back, his cry echoing across the hill.

His body arched, as he ripped his arm upward, green energy pulsing in waves around it, his fingers twitching uncontrollably. 

By accident more than intent, he leveled the arm at Kazzander and an uncontrolled, searing beam, of pure energy burst forth.

It slammed into the demon, blasting him off his feet and hurling him across the altar. 

Stone cracked where he struck, dust and rubble exploding into the night.

For a heartbeat, silence.

Caeriel panted, dagger trembling in her grip, eyes wide.

“…Gus…?”

He staggered, staring down at his arm.

The last shreds of charred skin sloughed off, flaking like ash, and beneath it fresh flesh pulsed with glowing green veins.

His hand twitched, fingers curling and uncurling like they belonged to someone else.

“What the...” he gasped, yanking the arm back, only for it to suddenly claw at his own throat.

“Oi ! Knock it off, that’s my neck!” Gus barked, wrestling with the limb as if it were possessed. 

For a second it looked like he was losing to his own arm.

Caeriel could only stare, torn between horror and disbelief. “What… by the gods… happened to you?”

Sweat poured down his face, his breath ragged, but despite it all, a crooked, half-mad grin crept over his lips.

“Hah… seems I got a hand with a mind of its own! Man, I wish I’d had this when I was fourteen…”

The elf blinked at him, utterly baffled. “…Fourteen?”

“Don’t ask...”

Gus clenched his jaw, raised the twitching limb with help of his other arm, and with all of his willpower, he forced his trembling fingers into a snap.

FWOOOM!

A jet of emerald fire roared skyward, scorching the night.

Both of them froze, while Gus blinked at his hand. “…Hah. Looks like I just scored myself a power-up. When that fool of a Beer Mage sees this, he’s gonna be the jealous one!”

Caeriel muttered, still staring as if she’d lost her grip on reality. “…Beer Mage?”

But before Gus could answer, the ground shook.

From across the altar, rubble shifted, stones rolled aside. 

And with a low, furious growl, Kazzander rose from the wreckage, his once-silken voice had sharpened into a blade.

“You dare…” His eyes burned, no longer amused but seething, venomous. 

Gus swallowed hard, his grin faltering. 

“…Aw, crap. Guess round two’s on.”