Chapter 169 (Patreon)

Crown Antiques, The Pitt - 4:34 PM

I absently tapped the flat of my blade on Jeremiah’s shoulder as I thought about his words. Setting up players to be suicide bombers was an unfortunately common tactic from the Demons. Almost all of the unfortunate survivors of the Washington, D.C. had been herded into buildings to get the procedure done in the anticipated war against the Angels.

Forcing myself to relax as unwelcome memories came back to me, I activated Shield just in case. There was no reason

not to be cautious. 

Jeremiah hadn’t exploded yet, thankfully, and I noticed how the cut I caused was already starting to scar. It hadn’t been deep, but I guessed his innate healing was close to mine. He had no weapons on him that I could see, though that didn’t mean he was defenseless. It looked like Pustibule had fixed his nose, as well, on top of whatever else he had done.

Despite the powerful Angelic weapon so close to beheading him, the soldier was still and patient. He was shorter than I, though still a few inches taller than Kayla, and he was powerfully built. The last time I saw him he had been wearing military fatigues, but now he was fully kitted out from neck to feet in studded leather armor. There were several possibilities on what the gear was, but I figured it was something shadow based.

Having killed Zeros, the Royal Guardwasp Sniper of the Vespae, Jeremiah theoretically had access to the Shadow Sniper class. Since he sniped me, I had always assumed that he had taken it. His patience and composure was certainly lending to that as an option. If it were true, then I lamented that the Dealer hadn’t gotten back to me yet; some of the items I had asked him for were specifically if a shadow-based class tried to flee.

Forcing myself to relax, I rested the blade against Jeremiah’s shoulder. It wouldn’t deal any damage since it wasn’t touching him directly, but he would still feel its presence. “Alright. You said we needed to have a discussion, so let’s talk.”

“Would you mind letting me get more comfortable?” he requested.

“No. I still have half a mind to behead you right here, bomb be damned,” I told him honestly.

Jeremiah seemed to consider this for a moment, still looking straight ahead, and gave me a nod. “Pustibule needs to be stopped.”

I waited for him to continue, but it soon became clear that he had said his piece. “Jeremiah, I know you didn’t come here just to tell me shit I already knew,” I said with a sigh. “So get on with it.”

Another pause. It didn’t seem like this guy was all that good at conversation. “Shooting you was supposed to be a one time event,” he eventually said. “I’m not used to my targets getting back up. It was an easy trade, power for a single life. Nothing personal.”

“Demonification is cheap power,” I said, spitting on the ground. “You’ve leashed yourself, and all because you didn’t know who I was.”

“You’re right,” he admitted easily, which only made my frown deepen. His devil may care attitude was starting to get on my nerves. “But I know who you are now. Anthony Franklin, savior of Etson. The Warmonger, champion of Atlanta. Guildmaster of Sol Ligatus, an organization that eclipses all others. Transitioning Seraphim, opposite of myself. A real Angel, unlike the administrator.”

“So far, so true,” I said. The fact that he knew about Atlanta didn’t bother me. Kayla had made sure the people of Pittsburgh who cared knew about my past victories as part of her role as Sol Ligatus Public Relations. So far, the only thing that Jeremiah had said that wasn’t widespread was of my Angelic nature. “How do you know about that last part?”

“First, Etson was in an uproar about it. Second, Zalzarog,” the man answered. “We took a trip through Hell. Pustibule started asking around. Your name came up. There were negotiations.”

“And how did you find your trip to Hell?” I asked. Depending on his answer, I would be able to gauge how far along in the transformation he was.

“Reminded me of Jacksonville, actually,” he replied. “Except replace the water with lava.”

“So, just as comfortable as ours.”

Jeremiah shrugged. “Comfortable enough. Similar smell, too.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as I deciphered his words. Any person who went into Hell, whether into a populated area or not, would be extraordinarily uncomfortable. The only way to get over it that didn’t involve the slaughter of dozens of Demons was to be far enough along in your transformation that the energy there didn’t bother you. His conversational cadence was throwing me off, though.

“Strange, for sure, but then again I guess we are talking about Hell,” I said. “Let’s pivot to Pustibule. You said he needs to be stopped.”

“I did,” Jeremiah said. He started looking back at me, but I put my blade against his cheek and he went still again. “You don’t have to keep me like this.”

“Yes I do, Demon,” I snorted. “You already know I’m ready to kill you at a moment’s notice. Make a sudden move, talk out of turn, lie to me, anything you do out of the ordinary will net you your end.”

“Typical unyielding Angel,” he muttered.

“Enough unnecessary comments. Pustibule, get to it.”

“He knows about your new heritage, so he’s doing something about it,” Jeremiah said with a sigh. “Pustibule has been obsessed over you. I’m talking red string on a cork board levels of insanity. Nearly killed me when I reported my failure. Until we spoke to Zalzarog, he was bitter. Then, inspired.”

I narrowed my eyes at his choice of words. “Why?”

“Because it meant he’d get a chance to dissect an Angel,” he answered with a shrug. “You already know that Demons get reincarnated in Hell, but leave a body. Angels pop directly back to Heaven, according to him. Pustibule isn’t sure what you’re going to do. He’s preparing for the day you die.”

“You could have pulled a gun on me when you thought I was unconscious,” I said with a scoff. “You’ve got a big fuck off sniper rifle, don’t you? Could have shot me in the head and been done with it.”

“It was tempting, but no.” Carefully, Jeremiah shook his head. “Pustibule is after you, but it’s bigger than just you now. He’s put up crystals he calls Angel Blinds to hide in. He’s also altering the Pitt.”

I scowled at the back of his head. Angel Blinds would certainly throw me off the scent, though I wasn’t sure if they would be powerful enough on their own to hold Sara off the trail. What was really troubling was the Demonic aura pervading Pittsburgh even with the crystals in play. That would have to be a follow up question.

“What are Angel Blinds?” I asked. He didn’t need to know that I already knew.

“Crystals that disrupt Angelic senses,” he answered. “Enough of them, and he’ll be invisible to you. The amount he brought in seemed like overkill, but he said it was necessary. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case that splinter of yours came with anything… extra,” Jeremiah said.

“Bad planning, then,” I said, inwardly cursing. Maybe he could keep Sara from finding him. “So, what? Killing me isn’t enough for him anymore?”

Once again, he slowly shook his head. “It’s still his main goal. Unfortunately, he’s gone through a lot of trouble to make sure it happens. That’s why I’m here, talking with you. Because I could handle it if it were just you. I don’t want this.”

“Then get to it already,” I urged.

Jeremiah seemed to fight with himself, as if wondering if he should really tell me this. I didn’t know if it was part of an act, but I didn’t trust him regardless. It took a few seconds, but he opened his mouth. “He’s making something he called a Conversion Grinder. That’s going to be Pittsburgh’s problem whether you’re dead or not. He’s making it a trial run.”

A chill ran through my spine at the name. Angel Blinds, sure, that was fine. I could reasonably expect those. The Conversion Grinder, on the other hand, was something that didn’t pop up until much later in the system. Blinking, I realized now what the Dealer had alluded to. Pustibule may have a low enough Demon that he didn’t matter, or he was high enough that he was able to act in secret. Maybe, maybe not.

If he was the inventor of the Grinder, then he would certainly be high on the list later regardless of what he was now.

“A Grinder sounds bad,” I said after a few seconds. “What’s it converting, exactly?”

“Souls,” Jeremiah answered immediately. “There’s a lot of them floating around. Constantly killed and revived as zombies. Perfect for Demonification. Which is what I want to stop.”

“Why?” I asked, tapping the sword against his shoulder forcefully.

“I already told you,” he said, sounding disgruntled for the first time. “If it’s just you, I could handle that. I don’t want to be complicit with a city being wiped.”

“Big morals for a Demon,” I accused.

“It was an easy path to power,” he shot back.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re really enjoying yourself now that you’ve seen what that power actually gets you.” Jeremiah grunted, but said nothing. “Why’s the admin letting Pustibule get away with this?”

He shrugged. “Not like I can ask him. Probably likes the carnage. They all seem that way.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Then why don’t you lead me to Pustibule and we can take him out?”

“Don’t know where he is,” Jeremiah admitted. “Somewhere in the Pitt, but I’m topside on recruitment.”

“How many guilds have you recruited?” I asked quickly.

“Black & Gold. No one else.”

I barely gave him time to breath as I put the blade against his neck. “What did I tell you about lying?”

“Not lying. They’re the first ones I’ve managed to infiltrate. Only been a few days.”

“And he’s set all this up?”

“Seems so.”

“Seems so or is so?”

“Can’t rightfully tell you if I don’t know.”

“I need a timeline.”

“We mobilized a week ago. Arrived here two days later. He started setting things up immediately. I joined Black & Gold, keeping an eye out for you.”

“How many Demon buddies did he bring along with you?”

“None, just me. Not that I’d count him as a buddy.”

“Is he the reason why you have your original shape?”

Jeremiah flinched. “Yes.”

“But you have a Demon form?”

“I don’t see how-“

“Answer the question,” I threatened, pushing the blade slightly into his neck to draw blood.

“Careful. I don't want to explode.”

“Demon form, yes?”

“Yes, partial. He sculpted me so I wouldn’t look out of place.”

“Like a plastic surgeon?”

“He is a doctor.”

“You pick up a sniper class from Zeros?” I wiped the blade against his armor to get the blood off. He was already healed from that. 

Jeremiah flinched again. “Irrelevant.”

“Is your sniper rifle the kind that levels up with boss kills?”

“Also irrelevant.”

“Why aren't you dealing with Pustibule yourself if you're so worried about it?”

Jeremiah swallowed. “I'm… incapable,” he claimed. “You were right. I'm leashed.”

“And I'm to believe you care more about the people of Pittsburgh than you do for your own freedom?” I asked, distrust abundant in my voice.

“Solving one problem solves the other,” he said, straightening slightly. “You can count on me to look out for my own interests. Either way, Pustibule needs to go.”

“On that, we agree,” I replied. 

“Behind you!” Mercury shouted from the dungeon's third floor window. I immediately lurched to the side.

The loud retort of a rifle rang out behind me, and I felt my Shield shatter as a large stinger broke through and pierced my back. Thanks to Mercury’s warning, it wouldn't be fatal. I gritted my teeth in pain as I tried to figure out what was going on.

Not willing to take my eyes off of my target, I activated Aura Sense. Whatever was preventing me from seeing him earlier was now gone, likely due to his attack, and the picture was immediately clear.

I wasn't sure how I missed it, but a long, thick tail made up of several spherical sections was coming out of Jeremiah’s lower back. It disappeared into the shadow underneath him and popped out of mine behind me.

The rifle didn’t show up with my sense, being a soulless item, but I could see where the Demon’s aura flowed around it. His tail seemed to feed it to make the stinger ammunition faster. As ingenious as it was, I didn’t have the time nor inclination to praise him.

By the time Jeremiah realized he missed, my sword was halfway through his neck. I activated Force Field in front of my chest and face in case he wasn’t lying about the bomb. His entire body shifted into a shadowy form as it lurched forward ten feet. It turned around to face me, and I immediately knew that he was a Shadow Sniper. I recognized the escape ability he used. 

In spite of the wound, I still lurched forward after him as he materialized, swinging the Scalpel of Angelic Healing to finish the job. “Why bother with all that if you're just going to shoot me!?” I roared as I attacked.

Jeremiah raised his arm, and his armor bulged as if the flesh underneath was expanding. His eyes were now orange with black irises, and his teeth transformed into something more fitting for a shark’s mouth. My Scalpel of Angelic Healing struck him just below the wrist, and I fully expected it to take his hand off. I was surprised when it didn’t.

He backed off again, reaching for a sword in the ground. I wasn't about to let him get away that easily, and I Pushed it and others nearby out of his reach.

“You think you can just escape?” I asked. His neck wound already looked healed enough for him to speak.

“Obviously,” he admitted, pulling his tail from the shadow as I swept my blade towards it. The appendage shortened, but moved so that the Stinger Rifle was hovering over his shoulder and pointed right at me. He looked like a fucked up scorpion. According to Aura Sense, the ammunition was nearly finished forming.

“What were you doing, just biding your damn time?” I demanded, brandishing the sword but pacing back and forth instead of going in for the attack.

“I have made an attempt on your life,” he answered evenly. “I have met the bare minimum of what's expected from me.”

“And that's supposed to make it okay?” I asked angrily. “You shot me!”

Jeremiah nodded seriously. “And next time, I will have to try harder. Be prepared, Franklin. There will be no more half-assed attempts.“

I Pulled three blades from the ground behind the Shadow Sniper and adjusted their course so that they would pierce his back. He reacted supernaturally fast, swiping them with his tail as I activated Crash Test with the scalpel.

I surged forward, my weapon aimed for his head. Even with Shield down, I was confident I could survive an explosion with either my hit points, Force Field, or Heavenly Hero.

But I wouldn’t need to. The moment my blade touched his forehead, his whole body was sucked into the shadow beneath him. Aura Sense showed him disappear completely from my sight in a way reminiscent of a teleport, which he’d be able to do at this point with his class. That was the entire reason I needed the Blinkback spell.

Taking a breath, I pulled the stinger from my back and tossed it into my inventory with the scalpel, though I held tight to the Writhing Belt Whip for the Constitution boost. I still had to combat the poison the rifle dispensed naturally. It was supposed to stymie attempts to cure the wound, but it seemed like my natural healing was still working fine.

“That looks like it really hurts,” Mercury called from the window. “You okay?”

“I’ve been through worse,” I told him honestly. Looking up, I could see him leaning out. “You and the Princess come to an agreement?”

“Oh yeah, man. We’ve been watching, and we both agree that guy’s a grade A asshole,” he said. “Are you ready for me to complete the dungeon?”

“You got it, Mercury,” I answered, giving him a thumb’s up. “Thanks for holding off. I couldn’t fight him if we left the Pitt.”

“No problem,” he replied before pulling his head from the window.

I took another breath, coughing as I put my hand on the wound. It was slow going, but I was still healing, and I dreaded having to explain myself to the Mills over this one. Stepping inside, I waited for the light of liberation to take over the building.