Chapter 3

  I woke up, the agonising pain I had felt in every fiber of my body in the few moments before passing out gone. I quickly realised I was lying flat on my stomach, on the stone tiles just outside the wreckage of the shuttle, a pool of drool gathering on the inside of my visor. Other than that, I felt good. I clambered to my feet, happy my SAC’s movement controls still worked, and the suit moved with me smoothly. A lot more smoothly than it was supposed to, actually. Hm. Interesting. I looked around once again, taking in my surroundings through the filter of the infrared heat sensors. Nothing much seemed to have changed while I was out; I brought the clock up on my NeuroHUD — which blessedly worked as intended — and checked the current time against The Genius’ last message. Fifteen minutes. I didn’t imagine much could have had changed in that short period of time, and I didn’t feel like I was in danger. But I didn’t see much either, apart from the bright shapes of heat sources all around. I switched off infrared. My visor dimmed and let the natural light through for my eyes to discern the sights unaided. To my surprise, that cursed sulfuric mist was gone, and I could see properly for the first time. But … no. It wasn’t gone. It was there, I was sure of it, however, I was able to see through it and observe the place in all its glory unveiled.

  My eyes widened and my mouth hung open as I slowly turned around. An orderly forest of carved stone columns surrounded me in every direction, at least fifteen metres between each giant pillar, reaching up to support a ceiling I couldn’t see. Smokeless fires burned around each of them, snaking around them like serpents made of flames, and I couldn’t spot anything that could have served as source or fuel. Just looking around made me feel disoriented, lost, and very, very small. I felt like if I wandered off from here, I’d never find my way back. Or out. Or anywhere else.

  I had been right about the ground under my feet: red and black stone tiles. Cracked and cratered under the wreckage, smeared with black blood under the two dead demons; the lord and the champion. I could see signs of fighting here and there: chips and dents in the pillars around me, charred and cracked tiles all over, and blood splatter. I looked down at the dead demons; they had been going at it before my unfortunate arrival, hadn’t they?

  I could see the creatures now in horrifying detail. The crushed champion from the Third Ring – whatever that was – was a nightmarish amalgamation of a man, a bull, and some sort of … tree? The thing seemed to have charred tree bark for skin, covering its overly muscled arms, even its vaguely bovine face, and I imagined it was the same underneath the oppressively black armour plating covering his torso. Only its long, curved horns seemed to be consistent with what I envisioned a normal horn would look like.

  The demon lord, supposedly a Great Calamity, was a different story. Similarly large and heavily muscled, sure, but it had blood red leathery skin, black cracks in lightning-strike patterns visible on parts of him not covered in charred armour. Even with the holes I had shot into its face, I could tell it was vaguely humanoid. And of course horns. And hair. Long, black hair.

  Genius had claimed he couldn’t change my race, so I hoped I was still human as opposed to one of these bastards. I felt fine, I could see fine, and if I could believe the sneaky hacker, I should now be able to survive in this place.

  ‘What have you turned me into, huh?’ I muttered, and as if in response, a string of messages began to roll through my NeuroHUD.

  [Creating and assigning a soul. Complete.]

  [Bonding soul to body. Complete.]

  [Saturation of soul with Ring Energy. Complete.]

  [Saturation of body with Ring Energy. Complete.]

  [Soul’s function to convert Ring Energy into Hell Mana. Complete.]

  [Calibration of body for Hell Mana affinity. Complete.]

  [Assigning demonic traits. Complete]

  [Assigning kills. Complete.]

  [Assigning EXP and levels. In progress.]

  [Warning! Inflow of Ring Energy resulting from kills exceeds the capacity of newly formed soul and altered body.]

  [Rerouting excess Ring Energy to SAC suit and accessories. Complete.]

  [Altering SAC suit and accessories. Complete.]

  [Assigning EXP and levels to SAC suit and accessories. Complete.]

  [Creating bond between soul and SAC suit and accessories. Complete.]

  [Creating initial skills appropriate to recipient’s dual nature and current level. Complete.]

  [Welcome to the Fourth Ring of Hell! Good luck! Smiley Face.]

  I stared and read and re-read the messages again and again, and my mind still wasn’t able to process or understand any of it, only that it was life-altering. The time stamps on them suggested the events they referenced had all happened while I’d been out. And what the hell was that fucking Genius doing messing around with my SAC? I moved around a bit, but the only thing I could feel was the suit performing better and smoother than before. Well, improvements then.

  ‘Fine, good stuff. I’ll let you off just this once,’ I grumbled, hoping Genius would hear it. It probably did, but there was no reply. ‘Now. What else?’

  Again, as if responding to my question, something popped up on my NeuroHUD.

  Name: Calvin Jacob Hyde

  Race: Human. Sort of.

  Titles: Demon Lord / Demon Champion / Weirdness Incarnate (LOL)

  Level: 17

  HP (Health Points): 230

  HMP (Hell Mana Points): 450

  Strength: 50

  Constitution: 90

  Willpower: 40

  Soulstrength: 45

  Demonic Race Traits:

  - Live in Hell

  Makes breathing Hell’s toxic atmosphere possible

  - Demonic language

  Enables communication with all demonic races

  - Heat resistance

  As the name suggests, duh!

  - Demonic constitution

  Tougher bones, denser muscles, hardened skin, the whole lot.

  - Demonic vision

  Enables seeing through Hell’s toxic and obscuring atmosphere

  - Hell Mana Affinity

  The ability to process and utilise Hell Mana

  - Demonic Help Button (DHB)

  An information source to compensate for lack of innate demonic knowledge and intuition

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  Human Race Traits

  - Access to class system (being physically present upstairs is required)

  - Access to upstairs skills and spells (being physically present upstairs is required)

  - Upstairs Mana Affinity

  Demonic Skills:

  - Hades Heal

  A healing spell utilising Hell Mana, single injury, recovers 20-40 HP. Unique Skill derived from former profession: Combat Medic. Cost: 40 HMP

  - Cure of the Damned

  A healing spell utilising Hell Mana, removes curses, ailments or infections, recovers 2-5 HP per minute for seven minutes. Unique Skill derived from former profession: Combat Medic. Cost: 25 HMP/minute

  - Touch of Hell

  Burns target on touch. Cost: 80 HMP

  - Infernal Storm

  A hellfire-storm that burns away multiple targets in an area. Cost: 300 HMP

  - Hell Lance

  A bolt of hellfire, single target. Cost: 100 HMP

  Upstairs Skills:

  - none

  Bonded item set:

  - UTR Corporation, Army designation Mark 7 Survival and Combat Suit (SAC), Medic variant (Unique Armour)

  - JTEC S80 Assault Rifle, Automatic, 8.3 mm AP flechette, caseless (Unique weapon)

  - JTEC TR50 Semi Automatic pistol, 5 mm flechette, caseless (Unique weapon)

  - MediCorp Army designation Integrated Field Diagnostic Suite (IFD) (Unique accessory)

  Level: 20

  Durability: 890

  Strength: +110

  Physical defence: 1350

  Magical defence: 2000

  Damage per rifle round: 50 - 100

  Damage per sidearm round: 10 - 30

  IFD efficiency: 20 (Increasing IFD efficiency allows for more accurate guiding of healing skills or spells, thus increasing healing speed and quality.)

  ‘What the hell?’ I muttered just to myself. Was this the new me turned into numerical values? I had so many questions. Upstairs? Was that the world outside of this hell? Then magic? It sure seemed like I had some sort of hell magic available to me now. Well, to be tested later. And most importantly, what was going on with my SAC and my weapons? I recalled The Genius saying he won’t directly involve himself with me after whatever weird transformation it had decided to foist upon me, so I supposed I could test everything later and figure it out for myself.

  What I was really curious about was the Live in Hell demonic trait. I had another 71 hours of O2 left in the tank, and if I was indeed able to breathe the toxic crap that passed for air in this place, I would do well to conserve my precious oxygen. So, first thing to be tested then. Ah, that meant I had to trust The Genius and open my visor. Shit! Was I ready for that? Suffocating in a sulfuric mist wasn’t the most pleasant way to go. I took one last deep breath of the clean and delicious air my SAC’s life support system provided, then I disabled it, and opened the visor of my helmet.

  The smell was … strangely bearable as I took my first breath of Hell’s atmosphere. Then there was the absence of pain and suffocation. I kept breathing, and … nothing. I was fine.

  ‘Alright, good stuff. It works,’ I mumbled.

  I disconnected my helmet and I took it off, and that’s when the worst shock of my life came. I stared at the helmet for long moments, dumbfounded by the change. The camo pattern turning into a dark charcoal gray was one thing, but horns? Why the hell did my helmet have horns now? Because they were horns, no doubt about that. Not as long and impressive as the ones the dead demons boasted, but horns nonetheless. Red, metallic, sharp and pointy protrusions on my now almost black helmet. Shit. I was fairly certain Lieutenant Sarkis was gone along with the rest of the platoon, so I didn’t have to worry about my CO chewing me out for unapproved customisation of my SAC, but still! I needed a smoke. Badly.

  I climbed back into the wreckage and looked for my carry bag. It was safely secured next to the seat I had occupied. I opened it and grabbed a pack, fiddled a single cigarette out of it with my gauntleted hand without crushing or breaking it. The lighter was a bit more tricky, but I managed to work it, then I leaned against the broken bulkhead as blessed nicotine and a bunch of toxic crap filled my lungs at long last. Aaah! I needed this. And I needed a plan. I couldn’t just let my juicy army pension and that seaside cottage on Earth I’d always dreamed of slip away from me. If I was lucky, I’d be listed as MIA — since I had disappeared without leaving a dead body or at least a couple of molecules behind — then it would take three years before the brass bumped me up to KIA. And if that happened, well, they weren’t in the habit of paying dead soldiers a pension. Quite a lot was at stake here. Unfortunately, I suffered from a severe lack of information regarding my whereabouts and circumstances, so the plan I formed wasn’t really a plan, more like a set of objectives. I had to find my way out of Hell, get to this “upstairs” The Genius had kept mentioning, and then perhaps I’d be able to contact the fleet or someone, anyone from the Allied Systems military branches. That was good enough for now. Save my pension first, worry about the rest later.

  I spent some time collecting the scattered crates and containers that had fallen out of the shuttle on our downward journey; ammunition, supplies, tools and other army issue stuff we would have needed planetside. I wondered how the hell I had ended up here instead. The snaking flames around the pillars didn’t go higher than four or five metres, and the ceiling was shrouded in darkness, so I couldn’t see if there was a hole the shuttle compartment might have left in the roof. I couldn’t see any debris such a fall would have scattered on the ground either. Hm. Remains a mystery then.

  Once I had all the crates together inside the wreckage, I opened one that had “Drone” stencilled on it. Yes! The recon drone was intact. The small contraption whirred to life as I pressed the button on it, and I connected it to my NeuroHUD. With Sys gone I’d have to pilot it myself, but that wasn’t a difficult thing to do. It was time to have a look around the place and see if I could find a way out of here before bumping into unfriendly locals.

  ***

  I watched the camera feed from the drone on NeuroHUD as I flew the little thing around the wreckage to make sure I could control it properly, then I pointed its camera at myself, and I could finally see what I looked like. Damn, my SAC’ Army standard camo pattern had turned into a uniform charcoal gray colour, and of course the red horns on my helmet. I looked … scary. At least my face was the same: days old stubble, strands of gray in my otherwise black hair, eyes and other things still where they should be and looking like they should be. Still human. That was good.

  I rummaged through a few more crates that were undamaged, and as luck would have it, I found a portable sentry turret. I was familiar with the nasty things from my deployment during the Corian civil war — as many Allied Systems soldiers could thank their lives to them as separatist fighters had received large holes in their bodies from these automated guns. There was no bouncing back even from a single hit by the large caliber rounds, no matter how good a medic was — a lesson learned with pain and tears. Getting it to the top of the shuttle wreckage was the hard part, setting it up and linking it to my SAC was the easy part. I set the deadly contraption for a full 360 degree scanning pattern, and thus my home base became a heavily defended heap of scrap metal.

  From a few more undamaged containers I stocked up on extra mags for both my rifle and sidearm, some extra supplies for my medkit, and slid a pack of ciggies, a number of Crunchymel bars, and a few small bottles of drinking water into my armoured carry bag. I put my helmet back on, and I was ready to embark on the mission to reccie the hell out of Hell. But for some reason, my eyes lingered on the enormous sword of the late demon lord, lying on the ground outside the wreckage. Whatever metal it was forged of, it was black with a blood red pattern running through its length. The blade was wide, almost as long as I was tall; a good fit for the huge demon, but too heavy and unwieldy for a much smaller human. With the strength my SAC lent me I could probably carry it, use it even, but I hadn’t the faintest how swordsmanship worked — that art was a part of the long gone past of Earth, definitely not a part of the Allied Systems Army training programme. Still, I kind of felt bad leaving it behind. Maybe it was because of my brand new title of Demon Lord, but the weapon was calling to me. I supposed I could take a minute to try it out. I took the sword from the ground — my SAC had no issue with it and I could barely feel the weight of it — then stared at it intently.

  ‘Alright, DHB, what’s the deal with this thing?’

  The Demonic Help Button put the messages on my NeuroHUD instantly.

  [The Magnificently Destructive Blade of Utter Darkness and Burning Death]

  [Bonded weapon of Ugrathar the Great Calamity, Demon Lord of the Fourth Ring, deceased. With its owner lost, this bonded weapon is looking for a new bond.]

  [Durability: determined by bond]

  [Damage: determined by bond]

  [Hell Mana Capacity: determined by bond]

  ‘Holy shit, who the hell came up with that name?’ I muttered just to myself upon reading the helpful description.

  There were those in the army, and of course amongst the marines, who did name their rifles, but mostly along the crude lines of “Spitting Jenny” or “Little Matilda”, often inspired by prostitutes they frequented while on leave on orbital stations or planetside.

  [Do you wish to form a bond with the weapon known as The Magnificently Destructive Blade of Utter Darkness and Burning Death?]

  Huh? That was an option? I considered it for a moment; perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to have a glorified combat knife to poke the enemy with, in case of depleting my ammo store, so yes. But not with that name. Too long.

  ‘Button, can I re-name the sword? To something shorter, like Burning Darkness or something?’

  [As bonded items typically are in possession of a proto-soul to enable utilising Mana, they also possess varying amount of will. Conditions of the bond can be negotiated with the item before the bonding process.]

  ‘Ah … what? Does that mean my SAC has a will of its own now?’ I asked, not quite sure if I should be pleased or panicked.

  [The articles of your bonded item set, consisting of your SAC, your weapons and your IFD Suite, share a single proto-soul, enabling Mana utilisation, but not sufficient to form a will. Adding The Magnificently Destructive Blade of Utter Darkness and Burning Death to the set will merge its proto-soul with the set’s existing proto-soul. The resulting proto-soul will be shared between all articles of the set, and a small will may be present. Alternatively, you may choose to form the bond with The Magnificently Destructive Blade of Utter Darkness and Burning Death separately from your existing bonded item set, in which case you will have a bonded item set, and a single bonded item. This can also be negotiated before bonding process.]

  ‘Good stuff,’ I grumbled. This was too complicated a thing for my taste. ‘What even is a bonded item, eh, Button?’

  [A bonded item is an item in possession of a proto-soul, connected to its owner’s soul via a bond through which Mana can travel in both directions. The bond ensures the item can receive EXP and levels, and it prevents anyone other than its owner to use said item.]

  Hm. Button was a useful feature indeed, I would even say crucial to my long term prospects of survival and eventual escape from Hell. And the matter at hand, well …

  ‘Alright, let the negotiations begin!’