Reborn to Devour: A Demonic LitRPG

Before my hunt could begin in earnest, I needed to know more about my hunting ground. I only had two of the numerous tunnels around Tainaronopolis mapped. It was likely that these entrances would remain unused until the spider believed that we left. In that time, we would need to find suitable ambush points; blind spots in tunnel bends and intersections that would allow us to pounce without retaliation.

Using Squealer like a bloodhound, we found several more tufts of fur stuck against the tunnel walls. Gentle inclines and declines in the stone took us to higher and lower levels as we slowly looped around the village.

We could see signs of their presence; stretches of moss and mushroom picked clean by infernal hands to be taken back to illuminate their village. It was a strong concentration of several odors that made Squealer wince with the overload of sensations. Even if there were demons roaming the tunnel, they would be hard to pick up amongst this natural scent.

But then, we froze; noticing it at the same time. Standing between us and the spot that we had been holing up in was a demon. The bat-headed demon that I had seen in the village was sniffing around the intersection; no doubt in an attempt to track our whereabouts.

“So, you are willing to risk one of your own to find us, Pýlicles?” I murmured to myself.

I found a reptilian instinct attempting to overthrow the human as I looked at the demon’s exposed back. It felt as though my thoughts were becoming cloudy. The words and concepts and preferences that took up my mind melted like lava through a glacier; replaced by much simpler, much stronger impulses. This impulse said to attack, to tear my teeth into its flesh before it had the chance to react; an impulse that my muscles already began to react to.

It did not care that I would have found no real interest in a kill like that. This was a machine of cruel efficiency. Kill the demon in the simplest way. I relinquished control of my body, allowing it to move as the impulses desired. I would humor the feeling and determine if I ever wished to use it again.

“Ishmael,” Squealer said in a low voice.

I sprinted forth to pounce upon the lone beast. There was no need to hesitate or waver now that my decision was made. My legs carried me at speeds that would have made me the most decorated Olympic runner in history. I lowered my body in preparation for the collision.

As the bat’s ear twitched, I was already upon it. I hit it with a form tackle and slammed it into the wall. All the breath was squeezed from its body and I heard it sputtering for air.

Mike Tyson once said ‘Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.’ It was a maxim that I found myself following often. That’s why the most effective way to win is to strike first. Anything more complex than that will be knocked out of your mind the moment you take the first blow to the head. You allow your training, the nearly autonomous movement of your muscles, to fight your behalf through memory and instinct.

That’s why I wasn’t surprised when the bat did not appropriately react when I hit it. Concussed and stupefied, the mind worked at a painfully slow pace to inform the body as to what to do next. Such an idyllic window would allow me to dig into flesh without worry of retaliation.

Usually, such sharp pain would be enough to snap any out of that mental fog and react. But, as a large chunk of health and flesh were ripped from the bat, it only smiled. A disconcerting reaction that might have given me pause about the potential of a trap.

But, I did not stop to survey my surroundings for potential hidden foes. I had already allowed myself to be a passenger to these bestial impulses. I would do as the instincts said. I would learn quickly how trustworthy the mind of a lizard is. And that instinct said to keep going; that there were no hidden threats. It commanded me to keep ripping and biting until there was nothing left. So I obeyed the commands of the cold-blooded master. My claws tore its abdomen to ground meat and my teeth dug deeply into the bat’s windpipe.

“You’re perfect,” it gasped right before I pulled my head back and ripped its throat out. Dark red blood dripped from my teeth and splattered off of my scales.

With that, the instinct abandoned me entirely, leaving me with the odd feeling of being possessed. I rose to my feet and looked at the ruinous mess that I made. I frowned as the creature that piloted my mind left me with no lingering emotions to latch onto. While a novel experience, all I had really done was surrender control for no benefit. In that moment, I was only a puppet to baser desires bestowed upon me by my wicked host.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Squealer asked in a distraught voice, clearly affected by the predatory display. “And what the fuck did they just say?”

“They said I was perfect,” I answered as I reached down and hefted the corpse over my shoulder. “And I intend to find out why. Let’s go before Pýlicles sends reinforcements to find his dead scout.”

Squealer gave me a suspicious look before leading the way. We traveled down several more tunnels and intersections. He kept looking warily back at me, no doubt with the thoughts of my primal assault taking up the forefront of his mind. The hypocrisy in his judgments were almost endearing.

I felt movement on my shoulder. I quickly set it down on the floor of the tunnel as it began to sputter back to life. Unlike Squealer, who had been turned to paste and reformed fully, the bat’s missing flesh rapidly grew back. Meat bubbled from the voids in the wound. Sinews stitched back together and new skin and fur covered it all back up like patching a damaged stuffed animal. It did not even leave any scarring.

The bat’s eyes fluttered open and it immediately raised its hands up in surrender. To my surprise, however, there was no fear in its eyes towards the one that just slaughtered it. Instead, a sharp intensity and focus burned behind them.

“Please wait,” it pleaded to me to spare it from a new assault. “I have something that I need to say to you.”

“Go on,” I replied, holding my hands behind my back to further encourage the bat to speak. “I heard you call me perfect before I killed you. Seems strange to say to someone who is tearing out your throat.”

“But it’s true all the same,” the bat said with large nods. “I would have needed you to kill me anyways, for the sake of the plan.”

“What plan?” Squealer asked, eyes narrowing with distrust.

“Oh, sorry, I’ve gotten ahead of myself,” the bat replied. It slowly rose to its feet, checking its reformed body. “There are many of us that no longer wish to stay in the Bowels. We see you as our best bet to overthrow Pýlicles and finally move on.”

“Overthrow Pýlicles? Why don’t you just leave?” Squealer pressed, not impressed with the answer.

Squealer seemed insistent on being the primary interrogator; a role that I felt no real need to deny him. His untrusting nature sniffed out any bullshit that he might detect in the bat’s words. Even I could admit that offers like this were often too good to be true. It was like when my cousin, Amanda, got scammed into a high interest five year monthly payment plan for a used 2003 Chrysler Sebring with a dropped cylinder or when you would loan the new guy in the cell money and then have your buddy mug him.

“Have either of you died multiple times down here?” The bat asked.

“No,” Squealer and I said in near unison.

“Then allow me to explain to you exactly what you avoided by escaping,” the bat said. “The first time you die, you only lose stats. Every time after that, you lose XP as well. You can drop levels and stats until you reach the bare minimum; rendering you too weak to even harm the creatures of the Bowels. Pýlicles would have killed you over and over until you were too neutered to ever be a threat. Then, you would join his party and, as leader, he can determine the stats and XP you get in contribution. If you don’t play by his rules, he’ll banish you. I’ve seen it happen before.”

I touched my hand to my chin while Squealer shrank at the knowledge of what more he could lose in death.

“So Pýlicles has your stats as well?” I asked, getting to the root of the request.

“Yes, he has all of ours,” the bat answered. “As foolish as it sounds, I gave mine away willingly. I was scared, alone, and didn’t want to fight. Pýlicles showed himself more than capable of doing it. It’s safe in Tainaronopolis, but it is also stagnant. Pýlicles cannot allow us to be strong because he will never trust us, so many of us have decided we can no longer trust him and be at his mercy. It has been some time since someone strong has arrived, and we are willing to cooperate with you in order to recover at least a portion of what we lost.”

I flicked my tongue over my lips. It was a golden opportunity to rid myself of one of the more annoying obstacles in completing my quest. Pýlicles was going to be enough of a challenge without his small army of lackeys to contend with. But it was not perfect.

“If I kill Pýlicles, how will you recover what you have lost?” I asked, wondering if this betrayal would only lead to more betrayal. “Not to mention what I’ve stolen from you.”

“Joining will allow us all to benefit from his death. We will get the rest on our own. And, if my death is the payment for your cooperation, so be it. Now, allow me to explain the plan,” the bat answered. “We have already cleared the first step. You’ve killed me. Now, you will extort from me key information about the tunnel system.”

Poppet would like to share their map with you.

After accepting, numerous new tunnels snaked all over my map. Decades of wandering and scouting and patrolling all appeared in a second to turn my map into what looked to be a complex diagram of nerve cells.

Before I could fully appreciate it, Poppet placed a marker on one of the tunnels that led into the village.

“This is the tunnel that Pýlicles has the most trouble with,” Poppet explained. “Since the exit places you amongst the hovels, he has difficulty using his web. When I inform him you tortured that knowledge out of me, he will send a few of his strongest subordinates to intercept you in the tunnels to keep anyone from panicking. It will likely be Pakara and Knives. Ambush them. Their deaths will be our signal to leave Pýlicles’ party and join yours. While we fight the remaining loyal minions, you two will try to kill Pýlicles before Pakara and Knives revive and return to the battle. That should allow us to recover a great deal of what we lost. So, will you help us?”

Squealer looked towards me and gave me a shrug and creased his eyebrows as if to say ‘might as well.’ Trust was a difficult thing to come by, especially in a vat of sinners. At the very least, I knew that they could not betray me until after Pýlicles was dead.

“We have an agreement,” I replied, sticking out my arm; a gesture that was matched by Poppet grabbing hold and shaking vigorously. I wasn’t sure if I should admire her fearlessness or view her as a fool that would stick her head in the mouth of a gator.

“Let us begin.”