by Oliver Mayes
“Uuuuuuuh—,” off to a good start, as usual, “—thanks for watching, this has been Daemien murdering a bunch of people who didn’t want to do a dungeon with me. I swear it was an accident, I really did want to join up with them, but then, you see, that guy HighZen, he was really rude. Yeah. And he— you know what, you should probably watch the whole thing from the beginning and then you’ll get it. Okay. I have some looting to do. Shout-out to CactusLover for being a huge pain in my— in the butt. Okay then. Bye!”
Feeling his face turning red, he blinked twice and the red recording light switched off. Well, there was at least one area of his career he could identify as requiring improvement. He was much better at preparing statements when there weren’t tens of thousands of people watching him live.
He was halfway to summoning a new hell hound when a loud ping indicated he’d received a message. Damien opened his menu without canceling his channeled summon and focused on the message, closing the menu and bringing the message screen up in a window.
Scorpius-beta: Very imp-ressive! A bit gruesome for my tastes, but those people weren’t very nice. Since your ‘dungeon’ thing hasn’t worked out, dinner is in half an hour. Love you, Mom. xxx
Damien’s freshly unflushed face went crimson. His mom had been watching that display. Oh dear. That would make for an awkward conversation. The hell hound had already been summoned for ten seconds, his three remaining imps were idle and Damien himself was staring off into space. He shook himself and sent them out to pillage the fruits of his labors. He had to collect all the soul energy and loot the bodies as fast as possible.
Damien knew it was completely illogical, but he had a sudden, deeply unpleasant image of Cassandra standing over his mostly unclothed body as it lay prone on the bed. Looming over him. Her arms folded and her foot tapping.
Better summon a portal first, just in case.
2
Home Is Where the Heart Is
Back in his new base, Damien squatted over the loot bags his demons had brought through and examined his haul. Aside from each player ceding him an item of equipped gear and the occasional potion, there was in fact nothing. No gold, no raw materials and certainly no choice items of interchangeable gear that had been sitting around in their inventories. Players had been so much more lax back when he’d entered the scene.
In a region where everyone had known their place and thus what to expect, players had been much more comfortable carrying the majority of their worldly possessions with them. His primary targets, the members of Rising Tide, had been incredibly comfortable in their superiority and had proven the most lax of all, to Damien’s profit. Now that PvP was rampant again, everyone was much more cautious.
Of course, Damien was the root cause of that instability. Everyone had low-key hated Aetherius, but were happy to ignore what essentially amounted to a dictatorship in exchange for stability. Since Damien was not only the author of their overlord’s demise but also the most prolific ‘Enemy of the Realm’, he made the perfect scapegoat.
This lazy sentiment was not helped by the exodus of Rising Tide players into the very guilds they’d been suppressing. These cronies-turned-fugitives had been accepted with open arms. From there, they’d seized the narrative and infused their new allies of opportunity with their occultist hate. Damien understood. He wasn’t happy about it, but it made sense. There’d been an enormous number of players in Aetherius’s guild and their levels were higher than average. Turning them away out of principle would only mean more battle power for rival guilds in uncertain times.
Good thing he was a solo player, then. All he had to worry about was how many views his profile got, and today had been a good day. 50,000 viewers in a single five-minute sitting, with more to come when he put it on his page! Kevin would surely be pleased. Damien would have to give a commentary on it later to capitalize on his first legit livestream, even if it had been shorter and more ‘murder-hobo-ey’ than he’d planned.
First things first. Damien checked his stat page and was immediately hit with an endorphin rush. He’d secured a further two levels’ worth of experience from the Death-God guild players thanks to his ‘Soul Harvest’ mechanic. It could’ve been a little more. Perhaps that’s why some of them had been less than eager to engage him and were so quick to distance themselves from HighZen. More likely than not, they’d had the most experience points to lose. Too bad.
Damien went over his current stats:
Class: Occultist
Level: 42
Health: 960/960 Stamina: 1,010/1,010 Mana: 3,020/3,020
Strength: 51 Agility: 145 Intelligence: 51
Constitution: 96 Endurance: 101 Wisdom: 302
Stat points: 10
Experience: 11,896/42,000
Soul Summon Limit: 9/30 Soul Reserve: 5/10 (+0/1)
It was only recently that his Soul Summon Limit, undoubtedly the most important attribute for his playstyle, had hit 30. The growth of that particular class feature had been a source of constant vexation. It was obviously subject to severely diminishing returns: he’d already had a max Soul Summon Limit of 27 at just 244 wisdom points, yet it had taken a further 56 stat points to bring it to 30.
The moment his Soul Summon Limit hit 30, Damien had started investing in agility instead. Even if his Soul Summon Limit did go over 30, it wasn’t worth the points to make it do so. They’d be better utilized making him move faster and inflict more damage personally. He immediately sank the new 10 stat points into agility, raising it to 155.
The fact his wisdom still rose by a point each level aggravated his OCD, since he had no need for further points in that stat yet had another 58 levels ahead before he hit the presumed level cap of 100. Fortunately he anticipated changing gear a great many times before reaching that point. He could phase out the wisdom on his equipment for other stats. Assuming he ever found any other viable equipment.
His latest haul was not comforting in that regard. Lots of nice items, almost none of which were suitable for him personally. The assassin had left behind a hood with 50 agility, which had been promising. But equipping it would interfere with his Occultist Adept Robes set bonus, so he’d be losing 15 agility, constitution, endurance and wisdom. Which meant a loss of 150 health and stamina, a minion slot and a fair chunk of the agility he’d gain, just for the sake of hitting a little harder. He threw that onto the discard pile and was left with a single item for consideration, so small that he hadn’t noticed it until everything else was gone.
HighZen’s Ring of Fortitude: 30 Endurance, 20 Constitution
Now this was a good find. He’d filled up the first of his ring slots long ago but had been running with the second one empty. This finally meant his character would be fully geared and he wouldn’t have to remove anything in order to receive the new stats. He slid it onto the ring finger of his right hand and checked out his equipment page to appreciate the lack of empty slots. Head, chest, hands, legs, feet, amulet, two rings and two weapons in his weapon slots. Magnificent.
Satisfied, Damien sent his base minions to carry away the remaining gear for scrap. While they set to work, he paced to his Tier II Soul Well and examined it.
Soul Well II
Health: 500
Soul Capacity: 15/20
He’d saved 5 souls in his Soul Reserve for just this purpose. Today’s outing had been a net loss for Damien’s minion and soul counts. He’d have to get them back up eventually, but in the short term he could supplement his numbers by juggling minions between his own Soul Summon Limit when he was online and that of his Soul Well when he was offline.
He tapped the Soul Well five times to move his five internally stored souls to his Soul Well’s capacity. Then he dumped Noigel, an imp and the hell hound into the Soul Well, leaving four imps attached to himself. His Soul Well currently had a hell hound, a wraith, a succubus and seven imps. It wouldn’t repel a serious attack, but Damien had taken his time creating a space where he was unlikely to be bothered. He was still sore about
losing out on the spoils of his fight with Aetherius, as well as the subsequent destruction of his base.
If only he hadn’t been disconnected, all those riches could’ve been his. He’d have lost his base either way, since he’d promised Bartholomew he’d only stay in the dungeon for a week. He supposed it had been worth it, since the buzz surrounding his nemesis being killed by Scorepeeus666 had been the cherry on the cake of his victory. It had taken a lot of effort to reestablish himself, though.
The true winner of the battle, much to the surprise of everyone except Damien, had been Bartholomew. His master had respawned in a dungeon filled to the brim with soul energy and immediately restored himself and his abode to their former inglory. The conniving git had probably planned for something like this all along. On top of that, true to the far-fetched promise Damien had made in order to secure a base in his dungeon, Bartholomew had awakened to scores of level 1 players who were literally lined up waiting to be turned into fully fledged occultists.
It turned out Bartholomew was quite picky when he had plenty of players to choose from. The streams of his initiation rituals had been amusing for everyone except those subjected to them.
“Master. I know you said to leave you alone when you’re thinking, but I’m starting to worry you’ve slipped into a coma.”
Damien winced at Noigel’s clumsily dumped exposition. He hadn’t ever told his minion that his mother had been in a coma, mainly because he’d rather Noigel made remarks of that nature by accident instead of on purpose. His minion’s loyalty had been pretty much unwavering ever since he’d been bestowed with wings, following some strict disciplinary measures at the start of their relationship. He still had quite an attitude on him, more than enough to warrant Damien picking his words carefully. Better to keep his work and home life separate.
“No, just thinking of how far we’ve come. How are the base upgrades coming along?”
“The Demon Forge is Tier II. We’re upgrading the Gateway. Estimated construction time is eight hours.”
Damien nodded. In his experience, Noigel gave himself very generous estimates. If Noigel said it would take eight hours, it would probably be complete in six. Then he’d spend the rest of the time wooing the succubus.
“Your orders are unchanged. Well done today, that mage needed to go down. Sorry you took an arrow through the head.”
Noigel waved a dismissive claw at him.
“It was a good clean shot, much better than when it takes a while.”
Noigel bowed before flying off into the depths of the cave. Seconds later, the predictable screaming started as he set his charges to work. There was a red glow as he ordered the succubus to cast Bloodlust and soon the whole cave was a cacophony of noise.
One of the arrangements they’d worked out between them ensured Noigel was always accompanied by a succubus when overseeing construction: Damien would bind a succubus to the base and Noigel could trigger her Bloodlust to speed up project times whenever she had the mana to do so. It was quite often, since his summons regenerated quickly outside of combat.
It was a win for Noigel too, since it all but guaranteed that the construction would be complete ahead of schedule and he’d have something to do afterwards to pass the time. There were all sorts of exploits for this class, if you had the wherewithal and the stomach to find them.
Once the Gateway had been upgraded, Damien would be able to cast portals leading to the bottom of the Downward Spiral as well as to his own base. Which was important to him right now, not simply because of the increased mobility but due to his single most pressing concern. He hadn’t learned a single new ability since ‘Summon Incubus’ at level 30. The Gateway upgrade option had come at level 40 and would surely be useful, but his combat abilities were stagnating. The Ex-Imp-losion his level 40 trait granted had been a refreshing change, but he couldn’t wait ten levels for every new development.
He had to talk to Bartholomew and seek guidance on how to progress with his build from here. If his mentor had any quests for him, that would be even better. Either option would provide him with a direction for future streams, rather than repeating what he’d been doing: dossing around attacking targets of opportunity and making ill-advised attempts to party up with plebs. He could worry about that tomorrow. For once, he was showing up to dinner on time.
“Noigel, I’m headed out. Keep up the good work.”
His minion threw him a thumbs-up and set his task force back to the matter at hand. Damien opened his menu and waited the ten seconds to log out.
He woke up to the inside of his visor, the internal display asking whether he’d like to quit from Saga Online to the root menu. He threw on some light clothes and opened his door. There was Cassandra, humming as she fussed over the new food processor.
There was still a part of Damien that couldn’t accept it. There’d been a time when he was all but certain he’d never see her again. That her last conscious thought would be of their stupid argument. Now she was more herself than she’d been in a very long time.
Damien pulled the door to behind him and it clicked shut, his mother’s humming cutting out as she turned her head.
“Hey, you’re early!”
Her face flashed in a big smile before turning back to the food processor unit, which was still complaining loudly.
Her smiles had once been thin, tight and unwavering. Hardly smiles at all. More like beleaguered battle lines, to be held at any cost. They’d been pinned down for a long time, but were now striking out to reclaim old territory: the first wave would push back her newly plump cheeks, working its way toward the interior to crinkle her nose before surging onward and upward to flank her eyes.
A real smile. Not a sick charade for the benefit of an ungrateful son.
He put on a smile of his own, making sure to push a little harder so it might reach his cheeks, and came to stand beside her. He put a hand on her shoulder. She distractedly patted it while continuing to attack the display with a pointed finger.
“Still giving you trouble? I can call Lillian, she’s got the same model.”
“I’ll figure it out on my own, I’ve already got to the last stage. I’m more worried about you. Are you feeling alright? You had a difficult time at work today.”
Damien stifled a snort. It was bizarre, hearing his mom refer to Saga Online as ‘work’. It was even stranger, though less hilarious, to hear her describe the bread and butter of his dream job as ‘a difficult time’.
“Mom, what are you talking about? It went really well. Somebody dropped a ring for me, it has some endurance and constitution. Very useful for me.”
Cassandra jabbed the display a few more times and there was a positive-sounding ping, after which she finally straightened up and ushered Damien toward the table.
“Mmm, that’s nice, dear, but it’s not what I was talki—”
The two of them were barely sat down when Cassandra’s guardian wristband went off. Within two seconds she’d already silenced the alarm and her hands were rummaging in her pockets, looking for medicine capsules she neither had nor needed. Force of habit. The two of them shared an awkward grimace as she turned her attention to the guardian wristband display instead.
“What does it say? Is everything alright?”
“It’s fine, it’s just another scheduled check. I don’t know why I even bother, this thing is supposed to run ten years before it needs looking at and it was installed last week.”
She tapped her chest as she talked and Damien couldn’t help but grimace at the glassy clinks it made in reply. Cassandra glanced up in time to catch his reaction.
“Hey, cut that out. You paid a lot of credits for this thing and it’s a damn sight better than the one I had before!”
Damien silently squinted at the upside-down display from the other side of the table, then at the spot where the bionic replacement’s servicing panel glowed through her clothing. Granted, a working bionic heart was much better than a failing regular one. He’d still rath
er his mother had been given a lab-grown heart for the same price, even if they were reserved for people with lesser means and longer waiting times. They might’ve been a bit less durable, but they were a great deal less exotic. Or high maintenance.
As things were, they’d simply swapped one uncomfortable ritual for another. Fortunately, his mom had adapted to it pretty quickly. She seemed to be handling the lump of madness in her chest a lot better than he was. And the regular testing would only last until the end of the week, while it calibrated. Then her recovery period would be at an end and she’d be due back at work, although Damien was vying to make that unnecessary.
The food processor went off and Damien went to fetch it. He opened the top panel and immediately understood why his mom had been having so much trouble. She’d made pizza. What kind wasn’t immediately obvious but it was a pretty good attempt, better than any pizza he’d personally managed so far.
By the time he got it back to the table, Cassandra was finally done with the guardian wristband display. Now she was pursing her lips and checking her fingernails. Damien assumed she was searching for well-earned praise, right up until she opened her mouth and looked at him coyly.
“How is Lillian, by the way? I’m still surprised you haven’t introduced us yet.”
“Well, we’ve both been pretty busy since you got back, but I’m sure you’ll meet her eventually.”
“Mmm. I’ve got to admit, of all the crazy things that happened to you the strangest is ending up shacked up with such a nice girl. You...you didn’t get up to any, you know...”