The chaos was starting to pick up, and it was glorious.
It was oh so very easy to find our way to the various facilities and plant little unstable balls of disruption in the form of our warlocks. A little bit of power over crystals here. A few stealth powers there. The ability to teleport, or to summon cutting blades of wind, or any number of other minor spells.
It was hilarious to see the corpos scrambling. It was liberating. It was… fun.
As horrible as it may have been to say that while freely toying with people's lives, it was also the truth. We sowed unrest wherever we went, and there was nothing any mortal could do to stop us! After months and months of having to look over our shoulders, to weigh our actions and worry about the reactions of superiors, it was a very abrupt and violent vacation for me and Mia.
"They grow up so fast." I wiped away an imaginary tear, watching as a warlock with mage armor and a warlock with my crystal summoning power teamed up. The former dragged a pair of guards down while the latter went ham with a crystal dagger he'd summoned. Blood spilled all over the floor around them.
"You have issues," Mia purred, but there was no concealing the look on her face.
She looked drunk. Or infatuated. Both expressions fit. Vengeance was streaming into her from all the unrest around us, even more potent because of her direct involvement in causing it. I was pretty sure the soul sliver she had left in her warlocks was letting her feast directly on the Vengeance they were enacting, because it sure let me do so when it came to the Woe of my own chosen warlocks.
They were, of course, much more likely to feel Vengeance than Woe, so the whole experience wasn't quite as potent on my end. Still…
"Do you think Glaustro will be able to make good use of this?" I ventured as the two warlocks moved on, still working as a tank/assassin duo. It was inspiring!
Mia shrugged. "Probably. It'll be a nice distraction, at least."
I couldn't help but agree.
The invasion was becoming all sorts of frustrating, really. The more our people investigated, the more all the corpos' deadman switches and other defensive crap became apparent. If one of them so much as tripped, broke his skull, and died entirely by accident, then the world would go up in flames. Literally.
Since none of us wanted that, Glaustro was taking the job of the corpos' swift elimination more seriously every day.
That was a nice way of putting things. To be crude, he was obsessing, and hard. I could understand that he didn't want to flub the 'test' he'd been given for becoming the future General of the Legion of Torment, but honestly? I didn't think his intense focus and rising frustration were quite justified.
I was also starting to suspect that this had less to do with ambition and more with his need to prove himself. I knew for a fact that Glaustro had gotten mistreated and passed over more times than he could count until he came across his lucky break. So, to have the opportunity to stand at the head of it all? It appealed to him. Maybe even a little bit too much.
Then again, those were all my own stupid assumptions. Maybe I was entirely wrong, and Glaustro was the perfect picture of mental health.
Yeah.
Right.
As well as our warlock infiltration plans were going, I was having serious doubts about our roles as mentors.
"Not like that!" I said, as calmly as I could. "You need to put a little more mana into the matrix, then guide it like… so. If you're following along? Yes? You do realize I can tell when you're lying to me, right? So, let me ask again, before I cave your skull in: do you understand? Better. Now, guide me through what's tripping you up."
The doggie did his best to do just that, but he wasn't really getting… well, any of it. I wanted to screech and bash my own head in. A short wait to resurrect back in Torment somehow felt more appealing than continuing to teach my apprentice 'mage armor.'
Still, though, I persevered. He needed a decent protective spell, and that was literally the easiest one that he wouldn't need to replace every time he went up in mage ranking. It literally depended on mana quality, capacity, and density, so once he learned it, he was set. Hell, I was still using mage armor, and I was a bloody Baron!
"S-Sorry, sir! I'll try harder, sir!" he whimpered when his spell fell apart again and my left eye started twitching.
I couldn't understand it. He was drawing mana just fine and shaping it properly. Even his runes were passable, if a little on shabbier side. There was no reasonable excuse for why Ian was failing the spell.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Then again… he'd struggled deeply with the final bit of the cleansing cantrip I'd taught them, and that was so basic you could hardly come up with a simpler spell. If it wasn't for Revilla, he might have failed to cast it at all. But, seeing as she wasn't going to let a man who 'smells like a wet dog' into 'her' room, he got it down eventually.
Maybe that's what he needs? Should I just stick Revilla on his ass? Threaten her with refusing to teach her more spells until Ian masters mage armor?
I eventually discarded the idea. It was a cruel thought, and I'd be the first to admit I was growing fond of the elf. If Mia wasn't so allergic to the thought of training Ian, I'd have snatched Revilla up as my own apprentice in a second.
"Urgh, just… drop it for now, and fetch that overly large sword of yours," I finally griped.
Sighing, I watched the doggo run happily over to where his sword was leaning against the wall.
We had occupied a massive gym for ourselves, inside of one of the buildings that hadn't been fully converted by our claiming of the city. I hadn't expected to find such places, really, but I suppose it made sense. The city was a lot bigger than the ones the legion typically claimed. Not every bit of space had a demon waiting to snatch it up for some commercial prospect or another, which was turning out to be useful.
I sighed even deeper as my apprentice drew his new and improved sword and paused to admire the runes stretching across its length. He'd been ecstatic when I got it for him, and he was now applying himself most enthusiastically to swordsmanship training.
Of course, some would argue that to give a mortal recruit an enchanted sword, low quality or not, was too much. That it would 'stifle their potential' or 'teach them only how to rely on powerful weapons' or whatever.
I called bullshit on that. I'd been in a position far superior to Ian and Revilla, at least weapons-wise, when I started. And I'd turned out just fine!
Besides, we weren't some dramatic cultivators, embarking on a millennial journey of strife and isolation or whatever, who would 'treat their blade like their beloved.' We were demons. That meant we got to do what we wanted, when we wanted, and damn the consequences!
Unless a more powerful demon said no, of course.
The ironies of my race were ever lurking in the back of my mind.
"Here I come!" Ian exclaimed happily, then promptly tried to take my head off.
I was glad he was taking our spars seriously. It had taken a couple beatings, along with a few demonstrations of the fact that he couldn't hurt or insult me, to get to this point. Still…
"Please don't say that so enthusiastically. Please don't. You're not Mia."
My girlfriend snickered at Ian's confused expression. Revilla flushed. Meanwhile, I drove my foot into his chest and sent him careening into a wall, just to underscore my point.
He whimpered and collapsed with a wet squelch. But then all the enchantments I'd paid for to be installed in the gym activated, and his body stitched itself fully back together as he stumbled to his feet.
For all his faults, I genuinely liked the look in my apprentice's eyes right then and there. Determined, focused, and a little angry at how easily he'd folded. Never mind the fact that he didn't seem to fully understand the gap that existed between us.
He was coming for me. And with the intent of finally extracting a few drops of blood.
Granted, it wasn't like I'd let him have them. If he wanted anything from me, he was going to have to earn it.
Our clash continued, blades meeting again and again as I forced my body to slow down. I even cast a few weakening spells on myself, to make it possible for Ian to at least keep up with what I was doing. He wasn't very good, obviously, but he was getting better by the day.
Mia and I had done what we could to better prep the souls we'd given them for absorption, and so far, they were showing remarkable progress with both mage and weapons training. I'd say Ian was roughly halfway to the actual skill level of the soul's previous owner when it came to the sword, and he'd managed to step out of the apprentice mage level and into mage proper with us force-feeding him mana crystals.
As for Revilla, she was already blazing through the level of basic mage. But her swordsmanship… left much to be desired. That was why, on that particular occasion, Mia had decided she'd be handing the elf's ass to her all day long.
Without Mia forcing her to get used to the swordsmanship style she'd chosen, I was pretty sure Revilla would have been hounding me very politely for more magecraft lessons. The elf had learned quickly that Mia didn't really have the patience for those. Or the inclination to learn much theory.
I, meanwhile, could wax eloquently about magecraft all day long. It was perhaps the final true remnant of the man who had merged with Hayden, all starry-eyed at the thought of actual magic.
I didn't let that side of me out to play very often, doubly so after learning how bad an idea it was to let the wider legion learn too much about you, but it was still there. Hidden. Lurking. And whether she was thankful for it or not, Revilla had managed to bring it out of me more than once.
Noticing my distraction, Ian snarled and pushed in harder. He tried to duck under the Lagyel sword I was languidly wielding with my right hand, only to be rewarded by a fist to the face.
I frowned at my own inattention as he went flying backwards again, and forced myself to focus.
As much as it pained me to admit, the swordsmanship lessons were as good for me as they were for Ian. I'd eventually bitten the bullet and bought some more souls from the shady merchant, paying way more than I ought to have for memories of 'true swordsmanship grandmasters.' Granted, they were all mortals who had fallen at the hands of demons, but their gifts when it came to the blade were more than apparent.
Having absorbed the souls, I was slowly trying to do something about my messy style of sword fighting. It was slow. It was frustrating. But between the memories, my experience, and the nudges of my soul blade, I was making progress.
Ian probably thought I was doing something along the lines of 'ramping up the difficulty as he got better' or something, but really, I was just learning how to rely less on my physical gifts of speed and strength and more on actual skill with the blade.
Mia liked it, if the smoky looks she sent me when I executed a particularly impressive sword maneuver were any indication. Plus, if I needed any extra motivation, all I had to do was think about all the enemies we were making.
I was going to do my very best to protect the people I cared about, all while tearing loved ones away from my enemies, like a good hypocritical demon.
Joy!