Goro used the rest of his forward momentum to drive both knees into the guard’s face and landed with a backflip.
The winged Kobold screamed, a spear raised. A rune on the tip activated with purple sparks.
A chakram zoomed past the berserker’s shoulders and sliced the Aeobold’s throat, silencing him.
As blood splatters decorated the walls around them, Goro and the Hellion exchanged blows. In raw strength, mania-power was unmatched, but the Hellion’s armor gave him enough mass to keep shoving fists aside. This one was an extraordinary fighter even for a demonic elite guard.
The mark of madness exploded across the powerlifter’s right flank and abs in wild designs, directing him calmly.
Goro frenzied and comfortably gained the upper hand but his hair regrew within seconds and fell over his face.
Marcus appeared, flat hands aglow, and drove a palm into the Hellion’s chest. The warrior with all his iron coverings was launched to the ceiling, sprawled there with a clank, and fell down flat on his face.
Goro jumped ahead, swiped the incoming spear aside and grabbed the blood-spewing Aeobold. He threw the creature into the wall and then down the corridor toward the prison.
Marcus dropped a whitefire foot on the Hellion’s head, splattering it.
With both enemies dead, Goro walked off at a determined pace. He swiped a broken iron spike off the ground and used it to tie his hair around. Was it a little longer than before? At least the sides hadn’t regrown.
He noticed that Marcus wasn’t following.
The easily distracted man was staring at a double door. “Looks important. If we assassinate Fno, he’s not gonna need any riches, right?”
“Just be glad nobody was in there to hear us. Come on.”
Marcus pulled the gate open.
“We have a *mission*,” Goro said.
“But loot,” Marcus whined with a pout and proceeded.
The Japanese bodybuilder was about to grab the Filipino athlete in anger when he saw inside the room.
Well-lit from variously sized lamps on the ceiling. The floor was moist earth. A tree like a pale white willow stood at the center. Hanging on nearly every twig was a huge, fat slug like they had seen plenty of.
Under the slugs, all around the tree, were bowls and baskets with semi-liquid unicorn dust. Occasionally a slug squeezed out more. Older glitter paste was spread on shelves along the wall to dry.
“Oh,” Marcus made. “It was slug shit. Didn’t think they had real unicorns down here but, fuck man, they made me addicted to slug shit.”
Goro grunted. One mystery solved. He hadn’t planned on eating more unicorn dust and he had already wanted to kill as many Kobolds as possible so this changed nothing. No reason to blabber on.
“How much can you carry?” Marcus asked.
“You’re not serious.”
“Not to use it, dummy. It’s valuable.”
“Carry it yourself,” Goro said and left.
Marcus joined him with about a pound of dried slug shit in each hand and a slug-shit-eating grin on his face. “If I sell it, don’t come asking for your share.”
“Wasn’t going to. Watch out, Hellions!”
===***===
It had been a few minutes of hopping from hideout to hideout, through darkness and illusions. Now Xane was in a Gnome shaft just big enough for his wide frame to fit without chafing on the rock.
If their crotches hadn’t lit the way, he’d have gone first with a conjured light, but obviously Chay was the leader and Xane wasn’t going to fight him about that in the middle of a mission.
Now he was in the regrettable position of staring at Chay’s ass from up close. The fundoshi’s twisted string didn’t fully cover the features of Chay’s hole. Xane wondered if all of Dle’Shuul’ nectar was fully absorbed. Probably. Not that he would have licked Chay’s hole even if a golden drop had been right there — but he couldn’t help wish for more nectar, no matter how.
A tiny cloud of black dashed between his legs to cover his radiant crotch as they passed a grate.
“Fno’s bath, pretty sure,” Chay said. “Have a look.”
The room was fairly opulent, marble pillars ringed by nacre pustules, gold veins in fractured pottery. Not arranged well. Xane was almost as offended by the demons’ lack of stylistic sophistication as by their mass slavery.
A bowl large enough to serve as hot tub for a True Daemon was filing with water. A green Kobold in a jeweled loincloth held his hand in.
“Cold,” he said to the other lizard-man. He opened a gold grate in the floor to reveal pipes, centered on a small soul stone, that would continue under the tub. “It’s empty, bring three.”
Xane had to weave himself between Chay’s muscular legs since the umbralist couldn’t turn around in the tight tunnel. Their eyes met briefly. They were about to solve a mystery.
It didn’t take long for the second Kobold to come back with three humans in tow. Two were thralls — pentagrams on their hairless heads. The third wore chains on his wrists. He had the build of a powerlifting lumberjack, buzzed red hair.
He insulted the jewel-decorated Kobolds in Gaelic until the first whacked him on the head with an iron stick. The slave dropped dead onto the pipes.
Xane was about to say something like ‘we need to save them’ when the slave *dissolved*.
As soon as the lumberjack had hit the ground he fell apart as flaky ash and liquid drips. He seeped between the pipes as he faded.
Nothing remained, but a shadow of black now moved in the soul stone like a tadpole.
“Fuck,” Chay said while the defenseless thralls got killed, fading to nothing before they even hit the ground. “We’re electricity.”
“Fucked up,” Xane said. “That answered some questions and raises others.”
Chay began to crawl forward. “Let’s kill one of those demonic assholes. And whatever else we can.”
===***===
They hadn’t known if unicorn dust worked on anyone but humans. The gates to the throne were guarded by an armored Aeodrake — a Drake with leathery wings from arms to legs. Marcus flung their bounty and the creature got a facefull of glitter.
He dropped to his knees, grabbing his crotch. The demigods kicked him into an alcove. One problem dealt with.
Goro went into the throne room guns blazing as usual. It was an oval space surrounded by green stained glass windows tilted down, like an overturned church. Fno’Xhaan was alone, reading. The same pale white marble skin as any Wretcher, dressed in a black toga.
Aimless Noggins turned toward the intruders.
Goro was upon the lord with a frenzied roar, hammering the demon’s face. Fangs broke, teeth chipped and Fno’Xhaan’s head whipped back and forth under the blows.
Marcus had cast aside his bags of glitter and the handful of obols taken off their enemies’ bodies. He sent his circular weapon to slice the Wretcher’s legs as he took position.
The demon was catching his bearing and slashed wildly at Goro’s body. Lean tan skin and dense flesh tore. They healed almost as fast, but the short searing pain brought Goro back from his berserk rage to reality. He had to put effort into evading or he would lose.
Green flaming pillars burst from the ground. A Hellion teleported in on either side. Poleaxes went for Goro.
The mania-warrior let his mark crawl over his shoulders, eyes dark, turning from a mere superhuman into a murder god. His pulse slowed as a nearly meditative calm overtook him, while his blood overflowed with adrenaline.