Sophia Garcia
Stories
8
Chapters
3,710
Words
2.7 M
Comments
0
Reading
9 d, 5 h
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Riven began to push himself off the wall when he felt the bones in his arms snap back into place. The pain was immense, and he could barely breathe as he began violently coughing up fluid that his lungs had accumulated—but he managed to get to his knees. He needed to speed up his recovery. That’s when he saw the second vial of Sinner’s Blood he’d accidentally dropped on the floor. He reached for it, fumbling with the cork. The second vial was drained in an instant, and just as the monster…
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Riven hadn’t realized that only one specialty pillar could be obtained beyond normal subpillars, but he didn’t dwell on that for more than a half second. The exploding corpses nearly blew Riven’s eardrums out and tore into the satyr with intense ferocity that covered the surrounding walls in layers of red. Simultaneously, streams of blood from all around the room began icing over and flowing across the floor at insane speed to race up Riven’s legs. The thick red ice crept up all the way past his…
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The two behemoths collided, and the room reverberated underneath the weight of their strikes. Azmoth’s flaming fingers tore chunks out of the other large demon in huge gashes, but the sturdiness and regeneration of the satyr were obvious immediately afterward. The purple miasma surrounding the satyr quickly healed the slashes and burns Azmoth was dealing, and the enormous miniboss stood to its full height a second later—tearing through the strands of webbing encasing its right arm and swinging its club…
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Riven glanced around at the bodies of the satyrs, then smirked and shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t know…which sucks, but that was expected. Either way, I seem to be doing okay so far. I’m more worried about Allie and Jose—the two I’m gunning to meet with after this. The real problem here is that Riven refrained from letting Ben know he had two ability scrolls in his bag. He didn’t know the man yet, and he was hesitant to just hand such valuable stuff out. Especially when he might be able…
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He was going to complain about the pain still radiating across his recently injured arm to Athela when he paused in what he was about to say…and a lump in his throat began to form. Farther back in the darker recess of the cell, past the blond man, there was a pile of four small bodies. All of them human, all of them children, and all of them dead with dark marks of bruising around their necks… Riven had a good idea where they’d come from, considering there was a school bus out there in the front room…
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Riven’s heart sank when he realized he’d been just barely too late to save the woman or the man out front, but there was still one person they could save. His muscles flexed, his body stiffened, and he turned to Athela with a determined upward gesture of his hand. “Go.” She understood and immediately slunk into the room to start crawling up the wall while the satyrs were distracted. Riven took in a deep breath and exhaled; his warm breath blew out as a cloud of red mist from his mask. With a nod…
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Athela had already vaulted over the stone ledge encompassing their solitary refuge amid the rubble and was sliding down a large stone slab leading to the dirt below with a chittering cackle. Hitting the ground running, she lunged on all twelve legs toward the temple as fast as she could—which was pretty damn fast—with Riven and Azmoth scrambling to catch up. His heart pounded, and his nerves were on edge. Those definitely sounded like human voices, but the screaming and pleas were quickly dying out…
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She gave him a chittering nudge while walking by and began to stride ahead with Azmoth in tow. “Nicely done. As expected of my warlock slave!” Riven snorted and downed another vial of Sinner’s Blood, replenishing his mana to full and wiping the red liquid from his lips on his sleeve. “Warlock slave?! Hold on here…” “Royal jester, warlock slave, servant to the princess… All acceptable titles for a plebian such as yourself,” Athela stated with a dismissive wave of her spider paw while…
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Two weeks had passed since Jalel’s death, with little gained other than a couple levels for each of them and no results in terms of a way out. Kajit had also been very quiet ever since Riven had denied her request, ever since he’d said he had more important things to do at the moment. She had yet to show up again at all, actually, which was a welcome thing in Riven’s opinion. They’d never found the boat Jalel had once spoken of, the one that was supposed to have been tethered to an outcropping of…
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Riven and the two demons had found a small cellar, long abandoned, with a pair of dead bolts that still worked well enough after they closed the door behind them. It’d likely been someone else’s lair a long, long time ago due to the way various odds and ends were strewn about and a worn-out bed was in the far corner—though it was all in a heavy state of disrepair and had a thin layer of dust. “Trash.” Athela threw one of the spare articles of clothing to the side, smacking Azmoth in the face…
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