Demonic Magician

I groaned as my eyes opened. Blurry at first, before dim light tried to paint me a picture. As I attempted to lift my hands to rub some clarity in my tired orbs, I found I could not, for they were bound behind me.

Gray stone walls filtered into view. I was seated, and… I looked down and blinked. In nothing but my underwear and undershirt. My ankles were bound to the legs of the plain wooden chair, while my wrists were to the back supports, as well as to each other. Something else heavy and metallic sat on my right forearm. A manacle? It had an odd feel to it.

I looked around with an eyebrow raised. Mostly a plain, albeit rather grubby, room. A dozen or so feet square, with me somewhat near the back wall. Directly ahead of me was the doorway, made of a dark metal with a closed slit probably used as a window. A table in the front left corner, with my clothes folded upon it next to a wooden case. The floor around the chair was especially discolored. Soiled with all manner of body fluids, if my imagination allowed it.

It was all very reminiscent of a horror movie, which bordered on being too cliche to be any valid sort of threat. I smiled and tried to draw a card to cut the rope bindings. Nothing. The panic meter moved up a notch.

With the thud of footsteps close by, the door then swung open on creaking hinges. A man walked in. Stocky but strong, a dirtied leather apron covering gray linens that were grubby despite the protection. His face was obscured by a mask that was either cured leather or something made to look that way. My bare toes wiggled in amusement. He looked like a pigman, and I couldn’t wait to kill him. So very eager, the other side of me salivated at the prospect.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he grunted, his lower mouth just about visible beneath his covered face. Wide, stubbled chin and a cruel grin.

“Could have left me out for a little longer. I’m trying to sleep off a curse.”

He snorted, continuing to add to the piggish similarities. “Don’t have all day to wait for yer beauty sleep.” His thick hands shuffled through my belongings. “Doubt anyone will buy these stupid fuckin’ clothes. But the summoning item…” he whistled as he picked it up and waggled it.

Rage prickled through me. While I had been able to use it when it wasn’t quite on my person previously, the Equipment screen confirmed that it was properly unequipped now. No cards and no summons.

“You seem too smart to sign up with the Crimson Shadow,” I lied, trying to buy some time. He looked dumb as shit and I wanted to break that hand touching my deck. Tear those fingers off. My inner monologue was on fire, the showman Max cowering away from the raging inferno building under the other, less patient one.

The man chuckled wetly. “I’m not with those stupid fucks. I love being here in the System. It’s my playground. No authorities to come knockin.”

I winced and looked around the room, as if some less benign answer lay in a corner somewhere. “So, what do you do here?”

“Black market deals. Some people pay top gold for the best items without having to farm it for themselves. Lazy, if you ask me.” He shrugged and opened up the wooden case.

“Then why am I here?” Surely if robbery was their main motive, whoever had the balls to poach me in broad daylight could have just stripped me and made off with the goods.

“The gold is just the side hustle.” From within the case, he withdrew a scalpel. “It’s just so happens it aligns with my personal hobby.” He snorted. “My calling.”

He stepped closer, and his body odor washed over me as he blocked some of the light. An imposing figure, for certain, but I had fought worse-

The blade pressed against my bare thigh and he moved it down towards my knee, increasing the pressure as he went until I clenched my jaw and growled.

“Good,” he said, standing back up. He moved over to the case and placed the blade away.

Didn’t even disinfect it first, I was horrified.

“Some people have pain resistance or regeneration passives. The handcuff only restricts active abilities.” He tilted his head from side to side. “Yer pretty normal. Had one guy in that barely flinched even when I could see his bones. Fascinating, really.”

All of that aside, I needed this handcuff when I eventually escaped. Imagine being able to restrict someone from casting skills? Amazingly powerful. I grimaced at the trail of blood now running down my leg. Fucking pigman.

“You don’t really know who I am, do you?” I smiled. Either the curse was working overtime on my brain, or it took a lot more than this B-movie act to rustle the feathers of Other Max. Shouldn’t call him that, really. We were the same Max now.

“Don’t care.” He stooped a little to pull out a little cupboard on wheels from beneath the table. “Although, soon we’ll find out what you’re made of.”

He placed the open case atop the cupboard and wheeled it over closer to me. He wanted me to see the tools of his trade—which was unfair as he had taken mine without asking. The only fair thing to do would be to return the favor…

The inside was dirtied, as though it hadn’t even been cleared of dried blood from the used tools previously. It had all the sorts of things you’d expected to find if a handyman and a dentist had a baby and it grew up to believe it was a surgeon, but had no formal training. Or manners.

“Any you prefer I don’t use?” The bottom of his wide grin was illuminated beneath his mask.

“Is that like a reverse psychology thing? I hate tricks, I hope you know?” If he could see the amusement on my face, he did nothing to acknowledge it.

“Sometimes, I take the tongues first, but smart fucks usually change their tune. More fun to hear the pleading.”

I wasn’t really listening. Instead, my eyes were cycling through my Inventory. I hadn’t arranged things for a while, and I might need to make space shortly. Maybe for my own severed body parts—which was an amusing thought, if not a bit macabre.

[Restrained] [Cannot take Inventory items into your hands]

[Nullified] [Cannot use active abilities]

A knock at the door waylaid his hand from reaching for something from the assortment of jagged metal implements. He turned, and his wide waistline jostled the small cupboard a couple of extra inches towards me.

The window slat opened and two beady eyes peered through.

“Sorry, boss. We’ve got a problem.”

The piggy deflated. “What is it? I’m about to work.”

“We were… we were followed?” The man’s voice cracked, clearly not pleased about drawing the short straw to break the news.

“Stupid fucks.” The butcher shook his head. “Go take the lads and run them down before they find this place. Don’t bother with prisoners. Is it the assholes from the camp?”

“N-no, it’s… an elf and a bear.”

“I’m sure you can handle that. Fuck off already.”

He turned back to me as the slat closed. “Seems your girlfriend and pet are about to…”

His masked face turned down toward the case, now completely empty, before looking back at me.

“I’m not too sure about girlfriend,” I wrinkled up my face. “It’s not really something so… official yet, right?”

“Give those back.” His fists clenched closed. “You have a passive for looting quickly. Well done. You have prolonged your suffering.”

Part of me wished I had been better at escapology. I was neither a contortionist, nor had the man given me an easy to reach knot to try to work through. Of course, at some point in my career I had given it a go, but after pulling the muscles through my back and wiggling on the floor in pain for five minutes in my flat alone… I had decided it wasn’t for me. Didn't mean I was totally incapable, however.

“I’ll trade you.” I smiled.

He slowly shook his head, trying to control his anger. It probably wasn’t fun for him if his emotions took over. “I’m not opposed to breaking you bone by bone with my bare hands.”

If only Wolf were here, I could have made a pun. “You’re out of time already. Sorry. Either you’ll have to blue ball yourself by killing me right now, or your life is forfeit.”

Purple electricity began arcing around my body, slightly illuminating the chamber. I could see the reflection of my bright eyes on his leather apron. Was this even a passive? Didn’t matter. The brief confusion giving him pause abated, and he drew back a fist to punch me.

A little bit of finesse was required, but his weighty fist slammed into the blunt end of the sword, the point of which was pressed against the chair between my legs. Dangerously close to my alleged magic manhood.

He was strong, although it wasn’t enough to split the chair. Instead, he went to grab the weapon, but it vanished back into my Inventory. Perhaps I shouldn’t play with my food. He needed to pay for touching my magic deck. Hah.

As he stepped back away to right himself, his foot slipped on the marbles rolling across the floor. He dropped onto his wide rear end with a growl as I stood up to my feet, the ropes dropping away like water off a duck.

“How?” He seethed.

“Short answer?” I grinned as purple energy crackled around me. “Fucking magic.”

Fog burst from around me, immediately filling the small room with an impenetrable dense gray. He stood to his feet, both hands bursting into red flame as he swung out for me. I wasn’t there any longer, however.

“Tell me how to remove the cuff, and I won’t kill you.”

He swung again for my voice, but I had moved. My enraged electricity had abated, so as not to give up my position, but his flaming fists left no guesswork required for where he stood.

“Fuck you! Show yourself!”

“Wrong answer,” I hissed. A thunk shortly followed, with his growl of pain immediately after. And then another, and his left fist extinguished.

“Karn!” he yelled out.

“There’s no help on the way,” I whispered, as the fog instantly vanished.

I clicked the triggers on both the held crossbows, splitting his mask as the bolts impaled through his face into his brain. He twitched and went to swing for me as he dropped onto the floor.

[Nullification Cuff Key]

[Prison Cell Keys]

[Regeneration Orb]

With a click, I slipped from the cuff and put it into my Inventory. Plenty of tricks in that magic item's future. No time to check everything else, I need to find the rest of my Party.

Clothing looted for later and magic deck in my hand and equipped. Pact Demon into my grasp and a bright grin on my face. Stupid fucking pigman was struck and rose to become Roger.

“Hey… Boss?” He looked around. “Fuck, what did you summon me in for this time?”

“Escaping torture,” I explained. “We need to murder our way into the daylight.”

The demon whistled. “Say less, Boss.”

From my Inventory, I withdrew Jokkar’s mace. A large weapon, studded with pearl teeth. “See if you have the strength in that body.”

I struggled to pass it over, but he managed to lift it with little issue. “I may cry with fuckin’ happiness.”

“After the violence, please.” I wrenched open the door and stepped out into a cool corridor. Underground? It had that murky, damp stone look to it. Two further cells to my right where there was a dead end, one more cell to my left, and then a further illuminated passage.

“Watch the corridor,” I commanded him, and dropped down a Hellhound+ card to go assist him. I strode to the dead end and opened up the slat of the last cell. Empty. Then the next one. Not empty, but the mutilated figure within was long gone. I closed it and clenched my jaw. Fourth cell now, closest to my demons.

I stumbled back against the rocky wall, as the hastily summoned plank of wood struck me in the face. It had saved me from getting impaled by the sword jabbed through the opened slat, so I couldn’t complain, even with the blood running down from my nose.

Roger was already there, the large mace slamming into the metal door—buckling it and shattering the hinges. It struck and collapsed onto the figure beyond, knocking them to the ground. My canine pal was ready to pounce and had grabbed the struggling man by the throat before he could free himself.

The chair was occupied by a bloodied figure. Alive, but they had done some work on him. Black mustache and goatee, shoulder length wavy hair all matted with blood. His one remaining tired eye looked up at me. Too out of it to speak.

I stepped into the room, a purple card circling around the chair to cut his binds. In my hand, a Healing Potion. “Roger, come help this man. Protect him as you would me.”

“Yes, Boss.”

My head hummed. Perhaps it needed covering. I went into my Inventory and shuffled my hat over into the Equipment window, and it appeared. Comforted. Back out into the hallway with Hellhound+ by my side. There were now echoes of familiar sounds and I couldn’t help but grin—oh, I was already grinning. Face muscles ached from it, in fact.

Split my cards into the air and circled them like a spinning wheel as I walked forward. Kept me on track. Follow the light, find the Party. There was shouting now, and shadows washed over the next corner in the passageway. Two panicked men stumbled backward, as if hoping to find backup from what they were running from. Out of the frying pan and into the second, more demonic frying pan.

Card through the head of the first, the second humbled by the second before my demon dog knocked them over. Ripping and tearing, and then something more palatable slid around the corner.

“Max!” Surprise and worry across her face. Then, confusion. “You’re just in your underwear?”

“No,” I slurred, shaking slightly. “I am wearing my hat.”

“Dickbag.” She power-walked over to me and gave me a hug. “Do I need to put a leash on you?” Her grip was released so that she could burn through me with a signature glare, knowing what was going through my mind.

Mostly the curse, actually. As much as I wanted to enjoy her company, I was mentally melting away. “Thanks for coming for me,” I said with a straight face.

“Good thing your Party has a bear with a good sense of smell, and I know a bit of tracking, otherwise you’d be…” she stopped and pulled a face in seeing I was out and thriving, in a manner of speaking.

“I had things under control, but I much prefer having you both around.” I smiled as Roger moved up to join us, the injured man propped up under his arm.

“Fuck.” Ren grimaced at my pact demon's puppet. “This was the guy who was going to… torture you?”

“Not even for a good reason.” I yawned, the fading adrenaline taking my desire to stay awake along with it. “Just sell my items and then get off on hurting me.”

“At least I let you keep your stuff, huh?” She prodded my chest and gave a slight smile. “Put your clothes on already.”

Eyes unfocused, I did so—putting all my equipment and clothing in the right slots, while she gave a heal to the rescued man.

“Wolf is stuck a little further in, where the passageways are too narrow. But he is doing okay,” she informed me. “This guy, however…” she crouched down to give him a look over. “Lost an eye, maybe use of his right arm. Trauma for sure.”

I clucked my tongue. “We’ll do what we can. Nobody else from the camp cared to help you?”

She shook her head and her expression dulled before she gestured for us to move along.

“It’s like they’re afraid to die.” I rolled my eyes. “Although I don’t think Fiona is fond of me.”

“She’s a hardass,” Ren said with a shrug. “You know her opinion doesn’t matter though, right?”

“Of course, I don’t need to people-please.” I grinned, only slightly shaking as we walked down the passageway.

She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Well,” I relented, “not everyone.”

“Hey, Max!” Wolf said, his face full of apparent joy and thug gore. “Guess what I found?”

I raised my hand for him to continue, as we stepped into a wider chamber that had several mauled bodies—some of them sporting arrows.

He sat down and wiggled his head to jiggle his bowler hat for added effect.

“There’s a treasure room,” he pointed a paw toward a broken down door off to the side.

I licked my lips with anticipation. Time to loot.