Demonic Devourer: First, I Eat the Babies [LitRPG]

“I’m impressed,” I say. “The kingdom of Tsubera already set standards low, but this is truly desolate.”

“In fairness,” Sierra replies, “The Whitestar Kingdom is not exactly known for their wealth, and the Wastelands in particular are generally regarded in the same manner as an exclusion zone. It stands to reason that the towns leading to it are in similarly poor shape.”

“Exclusion zone?”

“Means ‘stay-the-fuck-out,’ usually,” Adrian supplies.

“Place is limited to Category 2,” Zil rumbles, folding his arms. “Used to go with Lisa all the time, back before.”

Lisa? That’s an unfamiliar name, though from the looks on Sierra and Adrian’s faces, they recognize it.

“The Wastelands are a shithole,” Adrian says. “Nobody in Whitestar wants to build anything permanent there.”

I suppose that makes sense. According to the information they’ve provided me about the Seven Kingdoms, Whitestar is the weakest, with the majority of the kingdom limited to low Category 1. That means that there’s unlikely to be many Whitestar individuals who are Category 2, and so the Wastelands have too much potential power hidden within them. If there are monsters on that level or even malevolent visitors in the area, it stands to reason that no outpost would last that long.

“Except the godsdamned Halcyons,” Zil says. “Come with me.”

The “village,” if I can call it that, is a disparate mess of shoddily constructed buildings, none of them higher than a single story. I don’t see any train tracks here, nor do I see really any signs of human life.

“Where do we go from here?” I ask. “There’s no train, no roads, and no people.”

Ah, scratch that. There are people, and a quick scan of the area with Blood Sense reveals their positions.

“It’s fucking hot out, if you haven’t noticed,” Adrian says.

I haven’t noticed. I probably should have, but the combination of my resistances alongside my unique physiology lessens the impact of desert heat. Compared to the sensation of wraithfire burning my soul away, the summer sun is nothing.

“They’ll be inside,” Zil says. “You new here?”

“What do you think?” I reply. “No, I’ve been in the Wastelands plenty of times. I’m just asking questions because I want you to tell me.”

Acting allows me to take on roles now, going far beyond just mimicking a single person, and it guides my hand too. It tells me that it’ll probably be easier to deal with Zil if I increase the amount of sarcasm I use, acting kind of like Adrian does when he’s not terrified of me.

Zil snorts. “The sun’s harsh, lass, even if you don’t think it is.”

“I do,” Adrian says, cutting him off. “Get us to where we need to be before I die of heatstroke.”

The burly Berserker leads the way. “Border towns don’t always have names, but they always have a way into the Wastelands.”

“You spent a lot of time there, huh,” I say. “Not much else to do with your life?”

“These are good hunting grounds,” he defends himself. “Now shut up and follow me.”

He leads us through the mess of a village as if he’s been here a dozen times before. If I didn’t know better, I might think he’s a local leading us into a trap.

…Do I know better?

Just to check, I use my Blood Sense. The people around us aren’t moving that much, and I don’t see anything that immediately screams ambush. Still, it pays to be wary.

As it turns out, there is no trap. Zil leads us to a hastily constructed structure that only differentiates it from the rest of the shoddy construction with a spiral icon emblazoned on the side of the building.

The inside is devoid of other people, but I realize what the point of this place is immediately.

Back in Novarath, Rin and Simon took us to a room with a teleportation circle in it to quickly get down to the sixty-second level. This one looks much the same. An arcane pattern has been carved into a large chunk of steel that comprises the floor under our feet. Unlike last time, though, this one isn’t glowing.

“Teleportation circle,” Zil declares. “The border gates, that’s what I liked calling ‘em.”

“It’s not active,” I say. “Are we just going to stand around waiting for something to happen?”

“That’s exactly what’s going to happen,” Zil replies proudly. “The gates open once every twelve hours for ten to thirty minutes. I have no clue when they last opened and no clue when it’ll open again. Call me over when it lights up. I’m going to go get shitfaced.”

“This town has a tavern?” Adrian asks, raising an eyebrow. “Border looked shit enough to not even have people.”

“Any place worth mentioning has somewhere to drink,” Zil says. “Want to come?”

“Fuck you,” Adrian says.

“Suit yourself.” Zil turns and strides straight out of the building, hitting his head on the doorframe as he does. The entire structure shakes with the impact as if it’s about to collapse on top of us.

Adrian lasts about three and a half minutes before he gets frustrated.

“Take the stone,” Sierra calls to him as he leaves. She tosses him her Communication Stone. “Evelyn will contact you when it ignites.”

“Gotcha,” he says, half-grumbling. “Fuck me, this is stupid. I shouldn’t go.”

He goes.

“Adrian’s really a big drinker, huh?” I ask. “The cigarettes, too. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Hm? Oh, no,” Sierra says. “It’s not entirely my place to say, but to summarize a rather long story, we all have our coping mechanisms. There… used to be more of us.”

“More of you,” I repeat. Up until this point, I haven’t even had a glimpse at Sierra’s past, and the morsel of information reminds me how hungry I am to know more.

“Two people alone do not make an effective party,” Sierra says. “We began our journey with six.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, unsure what a proper response is. Sierra is my ally, and I’ve grown to care for her, but I wasn’t created to feel sorrow or sympathy.

“It’s in the past,” she says, waving it off. “We can discuss a topic this heavy another day. I’m just glad we have some time to rest.”

“True enough,” I say, letting the facade I’m putting up for Zil slip. “It’s been a taxing few days.”

It really has been. Not just a few days, either—it can’t have been more than six weeks since I was created, and far too much has happened in that time. My life has been the lab, then the train, then Ravendale, then the boat away from the Crowned Islands, then Novarath, and now the Wastelands of Whitestar.

Sure, we’ve taken some time off, but even now, we’re still on our way towards another fight. Even for me, it’s starting to grate. For a human that wasn’t meant to advance and fight and advance and fight, I can see where it’d get exhausting.

“Gods, what a few weeks,” Sierra says, brushing my hair out of my face. “Do you plan on living like this forever?”

“Yes,” I reply automatically, then reconsider, placing my index finger on my chin.

Every fiber of my being screams at me to advance, to never stop. I have to keep going. I need to…

Do I really have to? Of course I will, but it doesn’t hurt to examine what I do and how I think, especially when I know for a fact that I’ve been altered by the people who created me as well as my passenger.

Speaking of which, the broken deity hasn’t said anything since we got on the train. I wonder what brings it out.

I shake my head, bringing myself back on track. Yes, I’ll continue leveling up, but nothing, not even a machine, can go on forever without any time to recuperate.

“Not quite that simple, eh?” Sierra asks, nudging me. “Whatever your interface with Aunt Marie has led you to believe, well, it was a process for me too.”

“You too?” I ask.

“I’ve been active for a few more years than I care to count,” she says. “This last trip was supposed to be a relief. Supposed to be.”

“And you haven’t thought about slowing down?” I ask. “Bumping into me can’t have helped that breakneck pace.”

“At the end of the day,” Sierra says, “I suppose we’re not that different, you and I.”

“Yeah,” I say, “I guess so.”

“You’re powerful,” Sierra says. “I can’t deny that I enjoy that.”

We sit together in silence for a few minutes. She takes my hand, and I play around with my Hemokinesis, granting her a sliver of my strength.

“Shopping,” she says. “We should go shopping sometime.”

“Hm?” I ask. “What brought that on?”

“I’m simply thinking,” Sierra says. “There’s a few things I’d like to do, but Adrian abjectly refuses to do much but drink, smoke, and play cards. He used to be more outgoing, but…”

She leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, but I get the idea. There used to be more than the two of them.

“Shopping, then,” I say. “What do you figure for that? What do you even get?”

“Clothes, food, entertainment,” she says, waving a hand. “There are nicer places than Whitestar where we can find those, of course, but I have a long, long list of items I’d like to buy.”

“Like what?” I ask.

I’ve been in a single store, one single time. Clothing hasn’t even been on my mind. At first, I just stole from dead bodies. That Medic in the town near the lab lent me some clothes that I promptly ruined, and I’ve been using Sierra’s ever since with the exception of that one time in Ravendale where I got a new dress.

Which I also ruined.

“You look pretty in any color, but you always end up wearing red,” Sierra says. “There exists a market that sells dresses meant for your style of combat. Something that doesn’t stain. Preferably something that protects you, too.”

“They sell those?” I ask.

“Places not named the Crowned Islands sell everything,” Sierra says, leaning back into the wall behind us. “If we had the right potions and weapons, so much would’ve been easier. Unfortunate that this is how it turned out.”

“You’ll have to show me,” I say. “I haven’t seen, well, basically anything besides blood and death.”

“There’s a lot more to the world than that, Evelyn,” the Blue Mage says, smiling softly. “Mountains and valleys, vast oceans and alleys. Cities that stretch so high and wide that they seem to shatter the sky itself. Casinos so indulgent that Adrian could whittle away three lifetimes there, restaurants that’ll make you see heavens and hells alike. The roads we can take are many, and I want you to see all of it.”

I smile back. Even knowing that I’m supposed to be focused on advancement to the detriment of literally everything else, I can’t help but feel a sense of warmth at the idea of seeing everything this world has to offer with her.

“After we eliminate those bearing the Mark of the Dead Gods and their insane experiment, we’re going shopping,” Sierra decides. “The First Kingdom has a truly amazing district. We haven’t been there for years.”

“Alright,” I say. “It can’t hurt to decompress sometime.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a while longer, giving Sierra more time to gain more skills with her Blue Mage.

“Forgive Adrian,” Sierra says. “He’s sensitive. Zil—Azaril, I suppose—he means well.”

“Does he now,” I say. “Adrian certainly made it sound like he wants you dead.”

“It was a complicated series of events,” Sierra says, sighing. “Zil did not wind up on the same side of us, but he also believed that we were at fault for the death of his wife.”

“Oh,” I say. “I see.”

“Do not mention it around him,” she adds hastily. “It’s a sensitive topic.”

“I’d imagine.”

“One thing to be aware of,” Sierra says. When you fight alongside him—“

The array of runes under us ignites abruptly. While I assumed it would gradually appear like most of the other magical illumination I’ve seen, this one immediately sparks into existence full force.

I curse, activating the Communication Stone. Though I feared it would be hard to use, it’s really intuitive. Passing raw magic from my body into another object is easier than I assumed it’d be—it’s like starting the activation of a skill and capping it before it can fully activate with any form of actual power.

“Adrian, get over here,” I speak, my voice reverberating through the stone and further beyond. “Get Zil.”

“Moment,” I hear a slightly slurred voice reply.

By the time he and Zil back just about fifty seconds later, both are somewhat red-faced and carrying half-empty glasses of some kind of alcohol.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I huff, slipping Acting back on. “Please tell me you can still find a way to activate this, you shit.”

“‘Course I can,” Zil says. “Takes more than this to bring me down.”

He reaches into one of the many pockets in his leather armor and withdraws an unassuming metal rod maybe four inches long. When he kneels down, bringing the rod closer to the active circle, it begins to glow the same color.

“This here’s a key,” he explains. “Stay close.”

As he brings it further down, he seems to encounter some amount of resistance in the air. Zil grunts, setting his drink on the ground as he struggles to bring it closer. Sweat beads on his face as the rod gets brighter and brighter—

And then we disappear.

 

The Wastelands

“They just used a teleportation circle,” Sy says.

“Oh, shit,” Rin replies, jumping to her feet. “I’ve been waiting.”

“The ambush is set?” Lady Kane asks, one hand twitching at her side.

“Of course it is,” Arthur said. “Now all we need to do is wait.”