YM778.TV Chapter 62: Trust
"Of course, I remember. They turn to ash and they leave behind some… souls…"
I grimaced.
"Exactly, kid. You are, unfortunately, a mortal. Your soul isn’t meant to survive the death of your body. As such, your soul purse is designed to absorb the damage that death would otherwise cause your soul. But that messes with the other enchantments on it, so something like forty percent of your souls are lost every time you die."
"Forty percent?" I asked, just to be sure.
"Yes. A few percent more or less, depending on the kind of death you suffer. Don’t worry, the issue goes away when you become a demon. At that point, your soul will be robust enough to eat the damage on its own. Well, you’ll still lose some souls to the Abyss, for the cost of reforming your body, but that’s better than truly dying."
Things were still not computing, though. I was familiar with the weird enchantments on my soul purse, even if I didn’t understand them. One of the more useful features gave me information about my purse’s contents every time I dipped my fingers into it. At that moment, my purse was insisting that I had a grand total of 115 souls.
I had ended the invasion with 357.
"I lost a lot more than just forty percent." I scowled at the floor, like it would spit out my souls if I just intimidated it enough.
"Really?" Bronwynn frowned. "How many did you have? And how many are you left with?"
I told him, and his frown deepened. "That doesn’t make sense. You’re a recruit. The cost of resurrection for you should be a measly ten souls. How did you say you died again?"
"I think they cut off our heads." Mia smiled as she eyed her own soul purse, which she had managed to materialize while we were talking. "And my soul count is correct, according to what you just told us."
Once again, I started to explain what happened with Mercutio, then paused. A sword to the neck shouldn’t have been all that different from claws to the face, as far as deaths go.
"What exactly makes the percentages vary?" I asked instead.
Bronwynn eyed me, clearly sensing something was wrong. He could probably read my roiling emotions, but he shrugged it off.
"Mostly? If you’re killed in a certain magical way. Spells designed to harm the soul will always incur a higher loss. I think I also heard something about mind spells costing more to come back from? Those can also leave some nasty side effects, but the Abyss clears most of those when putting us back together."
I thought back to my death. I really couldn’t remember a single moment when it looked like Mercutio was casting a spell. "And the difference should be a percent or two at most anyway, right?" I pushed again.
"Correct. The biggest deviations I’ve heard of are five percent."
"Then it still doesn’t make sense," I concluded, frowning. "No matter how I died, it shouldn’t have made this much of a difference. This is more like sixty percent of my souls, just… gone."
"Well, maybe we can go ask someone wiser. I’m here to collect you, anyway," Bronwynn declared. His smile definitely hinted this was good news, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t confused.
"I thought you were here to distribute those robes?" I asked.
The innocent question made the demon scowl, and he promptly dumped all the robes on top of a recruit who was still squirming on the ground. Most of them landed on the recruit’s chest, but one robe landed right on his face.
"There, robes distributed. They stuck me with those when they saw me waiting. Not my job. Now, let’s go."
I considered doing something about the poor recruit’s state, but when Bronwynn started walking away briskly, I decided to follow.
It’s not like he’s gonna suffocate or something from that single robe. Probably.
Remembering to snatch up my dimensional bag, I fell in step with the demon. "Where are we going?"
"Sergeant Glaustro wanted to meet you." Bronwynn glanced at Mia, who had appeared on the other side of me with the grace and stealth of a ghost. "I suppose your friend can come too. I think I remember her being part of our unit, and she did make it to the end."
I shot Mia a grin and was glad to see her return it. No point in either of us lingering morbidly over our recent death.
As we walked, I looked around the massive square. I was surprised at how many recruits I saw scattered around. I also didn’t recognize most of them, not even vaguely.
"Where did all these people come from?" I asked idly. "Do so many recruits really die all the time?"
Bronwynn’s answer was a genuinely amused laugh. "Come now. You didn’t think yours was the only group of recruits on the entire planet, right? The rest were hit pretty badly, what with all the nonsense that happened, but everyone you see here made it all the way to the end of the invasion."
Well, then. In that case…
"So, everyone who made it to the end resurrected here? What about people who died before then? What happens to those recruits now?"
"They were funneled to other resurrection points, depending on how long they survived and how well they performed," Bronwynn explained. "Most of them who died early on will be delegated to roles in logistics or something similar. Some who died later on or who showed promise might be offered a chance to work their way up to a combat role. Honestly, you’re lucky. Both because you’re in this legion, and because you made it all the way to the end."
"There’s that big a difference in treatment?" I asked, forcing my tone to stay light and casual.
"Of course. I transferred in, remember? And it took me a while to scrape together enough souls to do it. In the Legion of Torment, top recruits like yourselves get a monthly stipend of souls. You’re pretty much guaranteed to become a demon. Unless you die somehow, of course. So, try not to do that."
The order was delivered in a stern tone that made me smile, but it did little to tamp down the churning in my gut.
Most of those who die early on get sent to logistics.
Well, now, who do I know that came from there and made my life a whole lot harder than it had to be?
Mercutio’s stupid face bubbled up to the surface of my mind, and I balled my hands into fists, clenching and unclenching them angrily.
The demon had shown up one day, snatched the recruits away from our proper commander, Glaustro, and then proceeded to make us miserable. As if claiming all our hard-earned souls in the name of ’research’ wasn’t enough, he had also made multiple attempts on my life.
Well, I was pretty sure it was him. Problem was, I had no real proof. Stories about a traitorous fellow recruit and a few possessed, mysteriously superpowered locals weren’t exactly sufficient evidence. If I tried to level an accusation against Mercutio, would anyone listen? Or would they discount the whole thing as a lowly mortal’s paranoid resentment?
The thought was eating me up from the inside, and I had no idea what to do about it. Worse still, Bronwynn’s information confirmed I was in more danger now than ever before. Within the Abyss, I was as killable as I assumed I was back on Berlis.
It was nice to learn that I would just poof back here if I got killed on some other plane, during some future invasion. But if someone shanked me in an alley here, in my nominal home world… there was no resurrection from that.
"Everything okay, kid?" Bronwynn asked quietly.
I shoved my feelings down as deep as I could. I knew he would probably still feel them, being a demon and all, but maybe I could work on making them less obvious.
After all, bottling up important emotions was a time-honored tradition in both the mortal and infernal realms.
"I’m fine, thanks. Where is the commander waiting for us, anyway?"
"Just down the street from this plaza." Like the swell guy he was, Bronwynn went along with my blatant change of subject. "There are plenty of inns and cafés and the like around here. He’s waiting for us at Gates of Torment. I think you’ll like the place."
The name of the establishment didn’t do much to inspire confidence in me, but I chose to trust Bronwynn. He had given me plenty of reasons to.
Sure enough, Gates of Torment turned out to be a very posh little restaurant. The decoration was understated, with soft colors, wooden paneling, and plush seats surrounding circular tables of various sizes. Private booths lined the walls, filled with customers engaged in quiet conversation.
More importantly, the second we set foot inside, the sensation of constant discomfort faded away. Until it was gone, I hadn’t realized just how much I was suffering. I had to catch myself to stay alert as relief flooded my system, leaving me strangely exhausted.
I didn’t let myself pass out on my feet, though. Instead, I hurried to catch up to Bronwynn, a dazed Mia right by my side. A glance at her face told me I wasn’t the only one who suddenly felt much better.
"Ah, here they are!"
Glaustro’s voice boomed across the restaurant as he greeted us with a stunning smile. It really was unfair how much the kind expression improved the demon’s appearance. All the sharp lines of his face melted away, transforming the harsh visage into something undeniably handsome.
A shame, then, that the good sergeant spent most of his time glaring at the world like it owed him money.
As we approached his small table, I snuck a glance at the unexpected addition to the meeting. Sergeant Graighast, my commander’s brother, was there as well. Apparently, the events of Berlis’ invasion had helped to mend the brothers’ strained relationship.
I bowed low to Glaustro. "It’s an honor to meet you again, commander."
I really meant it. Sure, my relationship with the man had started off on rocky ground. Hard not to dislike someone at least a little when they begin the acquaintance by berating you for your mortality and general uselessness. But once I proved myself, the sergeant had mellowed out significantly.
He even tried to protect us from Mercutio, I think. At the very least, when Mercutio stole all the mortal recruits, Glaustro was the only commander who actually bothered to show up and explain to us what was happening.
Glaustro laughed as I rose from my bow.
"No need for that. Not yet. Truth be told, I am not currently your commander," the demon confessed. "That’s why I wanted to talk to you. With your first invasion over, you can now take up a permanent post under a commander. I came here to invite you into my troop. At this point, your ascension is guaranteed, and from what I saw of you, I would be honored if you chose to serve under me."
I managed to stop most of the shock from showing on my face, though the demons could probably sense it anyway.
"I would be honored to accept, commander."
Rough start or not, I had served under the man before, and I knew I could trust him.
"I would like to apply to join your troop as well, if you’ll have me, commander," Mia said quietly.
The woman was much braver than I expected. But Glaustro seemed to approve of her boldness, if his small smile was any indication.
"And I would be happy to have you. You seem to have started down the same path as Hayden. Your mana core is not large, but it is impressive for a fresh recruit."
Graighast scoffed, though with a teasing smile. "Typical. You get not one, but two promising recruits from a single recruitment pitch. You’ve had quite the luck lately, brother."
For just a moment, something dark passed over my commander’s face. Then he relaxed and shot Graighast a tentative smile. "So it seems. Now, I’ll send for a notary, and have him fetch your belongings, too. It would be a waste of time to go to their office just to finalize your transfer to my unit when we could have some excellent food instead."
He waved his hand carelessly towards the restaurant’s entrance, where I noticed a demon nod and duck outside.
"Fetch our belongings?" I repeated.
"Well, yes. You made it to the end of the invasion." Graighast sounded confused. "Your death was a necessity, but you’ll have all your belongings returned to you. Did the person in charge of your passing not inform you of this?"
"Not… exactly," I hedged, resentment flaring within me again.
Mercutio had done no such thing. He rounded us up, taunted us, then summarily had us executed.
But this news brightened my mood considerably. With my death, I thought I had lost one of the few possessions I genuinely cherished.
My armor was a marvel. It was more of a gift than a purchase, handmade by the daughter of a renowned demoness armorer. Yules was her mother’s apprentice, and though she wasn’t yet skilled enough to display her work in the shop, she had done an amazing job with my armor. On numerous occasions, it had been the difference between a life-threatening wound and just a painful scratch. I loved it to bits and had taken great care to keep it in pristine condition.
Knowing I would get to see it again was a relief I wasn’t prepared for. The roiling bitterness inside me settled down to a simmer, and when I was offered a seat, I sank into it much more comfortably.
The atmosphere relaxed significantly after that. Glaustro and his brother led the conversation towards some of the worlds and wonders they had seen, and while I knew they had only visited these places to kill and pillage and steal souls, it was hard not to appreciate their stories.
Eventually, a squirrel-looking demon walked into the restaurant, followed by the soldier Glaustro had sent out. The demon looked nervous as he approached us, the olive-green skin of his face shifting to an unhealthy gray when he spotted the two commanders.
"Ah, you requested my presence, officers?" he asked tentatively, eyes skipping between them.
Glaustro nodded. "Correct. You will help my two new recruits sign up properly under my leadership. Tybalt, you have their belongings, correct?"
"Yes, sir." The soldier hefted the two wooden crates he was carrying.
He checked the names, looked at us blankly, and then just proffered both crates to me. Amused, I snatched the top crate, spotted Mia’s name, and handed it off.
Scooting my empty plate aside, I eagerly placed my crate on the table. I cast my Cleansing spell over the entire thing a couple times just to be safe. I did die in this stuff, after all. Then I started digging through the crate. When my fingers closed around leather, I gave a little noise of happiness as I pulled out the marvelous armor.
That happiness quickly died.
Yules’s work of art and craftsmanship was in ruins. Gouges were carved straight through the plate meant to guard my chest and back. Other metallic bits were partially melted off. It looked like someone had taken a knife to every inch of leather, leaving it in ribbons.
At first, all I could do was stare. Then a strangled sentence escaped my mouth.
"I’m going to kill him."