Soulforged Dungeoneer

I suppose it says enough about me that I didn't really understand.

As the Devil stood up, looking menacing, his sword in hand, I thought that this was just another boss fight, but I couldn't help worrying--after all, I'd only grabbed one of the skulls on the way by. Last time around, the quest option was obviously triggered by a conversation, and so when he... looking, perhaps, reluctant, still obviously got into position to fight me, I just... didn't understand.

But he didn't quite jump into the fight, either. He stood there, sword in hand, looking at me, and I looked back, confused.

"I know who you are," he said, and it took me too long to place what was in his voice. "I know what you are... why you're here." And then, he charged at me, sword cutting in a horizontal chop that might have cut my head off, if I just stood there and let it happen, which of course I didn't.

I danced my way across the stage, mostly puppeting my body with telekinesis, looking in confusion at the Devil as he kind of... stubbornly charged at me again. I wanted to say he seemed suicidal.

Maybe he DOES remember you.

It was Merry that put it all in context. When he said that the first time... all I thought was that it was scripting, set dressing. I had won a fight against him before, and now I would fight him again. We had a special thing going because I'd fought him at the halfway mark of the dungeon, and because of that, I would get a quest.

But he did remember me. The second time, he was upset that I'd killed him, and then... I guess he got his memory wiped, because I screwed around? And then I deliberately tortured him and killed him ruthlessly. Although he was just passing on this quest from the Administrator, I treated him like a real devil trying to do true and malicious evil, and I slaughtered him.

And now that I looked, I thought that I understood this new behavior from The Devil.

I didn't say anything for a while, even as I let him charge and attack me several times without attacking him in return. It... it's not like it wasn't dangerous; my health was never high, I don't have armor, and assuming his sword is like my copy, he gets bonus damage as long as there's a significant difference in our levels. But I guess I was expecting that I would just stumble onto the right thing to say that would make this encounter go the way I wanted.

His sword came a little close, and I blocked it with a telekinetic... well, shield makes it sound more formal than it was, but something like that, you know. Just a little solid patch of force. And I realized as I twisted the little patch of force and pushed the sword away that I'd seen something in his face, back when he and I sat there and actually tried talking for once. A spark of life--of something like humanity in him.

And I'd told him that it was his fate to die anyway, and stabbed him in the eyes and poured poison down his throat as he cried for mercy. All in good fun, taking out your aggression on dungeon monsters, right?

Yeah, uh, if he remembers you, he may not be happy--

I know. In the moment, I almost regretted not having a tangible sword to throw down in defeat. My Soulforged weapons could be recalled instantly, and also, as a telekinetic... I could still use it as a weapon when it wasn't in my hand, so it's not like it would matter. There was no gesture I could make that was disarming myself, proving myself innocent or unwilling to fight.

Hell--I could almost recall an Administrator's Note saying something about how I had to reflect on my own sins. It was... no, I don't know, I can't come up with it in the heat of battle. And even the Administrator saying that I was what monsters wished they could become--I'd taken that to mean that I'd stopped being a monster, but had I? Did a monster really want to stop being one, or did they just want safety and strength?

After a moment, I reached out with my mind and grabbed the sword that was in the Devil's hand, telekinetic force holding it in place so that he couldn't swing it. I still couldn't come up with a good thing to say, nothing that would make me less of a monster in my own right. Not even... not even saying sorry, really. What was the point of that, really? Saying that I regretted my moment of cruelty now that it was getting in my way?

The Devil flexed his not-insignificant strength, and I felt the blade actually stinging my mind, but I didn't really care that much.

"I'm not worthy, anymore, am I?" I asked, not really sure how to say it.

If nothing else, the large horned man stopped only focusing on the blade in his hand and turned to look at me. For a long moment, he stopped trying desperately to move it, and he scowled at me.

"Worthy? You?" He moved like he wanted to throw the sword aside in disgust, though again... held in place. "I don't know where you came from or why the hell I was supposed to offer you a quest, but you destroyed me. Like vermin to be executed, you delighted in my agony. And well, certainly, I understand that I am a devil," and he put one hand to his chest, in faux theatrics, "but I would never consider acting on such cruel instincts. Killing, yes--killing I understand. But what you did went beyond that."

"It did." I laughed, though I couldn't have told you why. No... I suppose in a way I could. "You know, I had just started to think that maybe I was really some hero, that after all of this, I was better. That all of my cruel nature was spent in that first trip through the dungeon, before... before I met you, I guess, technically." Likely, this Devil was different from the one I met the first time? I mean, his sword and behaviors were different. It really didn't matter, either way. "But now that I think about it, I still have that cruel streak in me, don't I?"

The Devil looked at me, snarling, and said, "Perhaps you're irredeemable. And even if you're not, I'm sure I don't forgive you."

And that thought broke my heart.

Not because... not because it was or wasn't true, I guess. In fact, most likely, the reason why the thought broke my heart was that I suddenly felt sure that the whole thing was a cosmic joke. I'd been told that I might become the next Administrator, met with fairies, been trained by gods... but the truth was, my darkness wasn't as far in my past as I'd thought. Maybe it was still there, waiting for another trigger.

I idly threw the devil's sword away, and it stuck in a wall somewhere. Not... not the lava fall where I'd thrown it the one time, which destroyed his throne. It just kind of smashed into a regular-ass stone wall and stuck there, and I kind of sat down on the ground for a minute. I wasn't crying, but I might have been. I kind of was, on the inside.

"You..." the Devil moved up to me, his long clawed hands flexing. "You weren't like this, before."

I looked up at him. In a lot of ways, the creature before me might have been a cartoon. Big, muscular red body, curly, pointed horns, black claws... I mean, for fuck's sake, the guy was dressed in a pelt loincloth. A loincloth. He was built like a brick shithouse, and I have no doubt that--purely out of spite I'm sure--behind that loincloth was some big ol' red devil dong, which I had no interested in ever seeing or knowing anything about, but the point was that Dungeon Creatures really were...

...creatures.

"You have feelings," I said, not because I needed his confirmation. I knew; I was a psychic, even before I had the telepathy skill. On some level I suppose I'd known the first time, I just didn't care. It was just another layer of illusion, another created thing to make him seem real when he wasn't. He wasn't real.

"Yes of course I do," snapped the Devil, crossly. "And I'm also a devil, a creature meant only to be destroyed by heroic creatures such as yourself." He broke the rhythm of his speech to put special emphasis on the word heroic, piling on as much scorn to the word as he could. "And I understand that my death is inevitable, and yet you went far beyond the pale, didn't you? All to, what, prove something? That you were willing to destroy a devil?"

I just stared at him for a minute, and eventually, looked away. "I guess I thought I was sending a message to your creator," I said, "without really thinking that you were your own person. Being cruel to you was just... spitting at the feet of the Administrator. And I guess that's just dumb."

"Oh, well, it's dumb. Well, yes, I'm glad you realized that torture is dumb." The Devil crossed his arms over his chest, sassily, but clearly that didn't vent enough of his frustration, because he turned and started stomping towards the sword I'd tossed away. Along the way, he turned and shouted back at me over his shoulder. "I'm sure in time you'll realize just how childish war crimes are and how inconvenient genocide can be for the people who live through it. Truly, I'm in awe of your wholesome moral fiber."

I watched him retrieve the sword, just sitting there on the floor. Not that I couldn't have defended myself, but... I didn't see a need to, or at least, I wanted fighting at all to be a last resort here, even fighting defensively. So I just watched.

He picked it up, and dragged the wide tip over the ground as he stomped his way back towards me. And then, to my surprise, when he got closer he simply sat down on the ground in front of me, his sword still held underhanded and mostly behind him.

"And tell me, oh great sage of humanity," he said, crossly. "What advice do you have to give to a devil who doesn't wish to be a devil? A sinner born to evil, without his consent? Perhaps if you have even a shred of thought as to how I should escape from this hell, I'll consider letting you carry my war declaration to the gods."

Merry gave me a mental nudge and whispered something in my mind's ear, and I mentally nodded at her, but didn't act on the thought directly.

"Honestly," I said, knowing that my voice sounded very tired, "the first time I came through here, I wasn't in any position to answer a question like that, and I guess I'm still not. Because I have no idea what your situation actually is. A boss creature created by the Administrator--it's not like whatever backstory you have as, what was it, Satan's Valet? It's not like that's real, or answers any questions about how to help you."

"Since then, I've made friends, bonded with a fairy, and I've asked a different Administrator to create an NPC pet item for me out of ...well, not something as intelligent as you. He--Julius--seemed nice, and he was free--"

"And where is he now?"

I hesitated. "Due to circumstances beyond my control--"

"He's dead." The Devil's voice was unimpressed.

I shrugged. "I had no part in that. I liked him, and I treated him with respect. And other ...dungeon item creatures I've seen also seem decent and intelligent and whatever else. It's not impossible.

"Oh yes," the devil put one clawed finger up to his chin, thoughtfully. "That's just what I was looking for--going from having no control over my fate to being a slave. Wondrous idea; really, I can't imagine why I didn't think of it myself."

I nodded at him, making no effort to defend what I'd just said. Because in the end, I'd been thinking about that same question for a while, now, hadn't I? Ever since I learned about Bo. "I know," I said, tiredly. "But if you ask me what can become of you, I legitimately don't know what's possible. You can only exist in the dungeon, or through an item like that. And even..." I hesitated, and mentally probed Merry, and she went searching for something. "...even if I did that, it wouldn't necessarily change what you want to change, in addition to not giving you freedom. It's a hell of a choice."

The big creature looked at me, unimpressed, and a few moments awkwardly passed.

I was a little surprised when Merry came out of her own accord, dragging along with her what appeared to be a piece of paper, but which must have been the physical form of a mental document. The Devil, too, looked a little surprised, even as Merry cleared her throat and turned to me.

"So, uh," Merry's voice was hesitant, but clear. "I'm not really sure the answer to what you asked, bro, but I'll tell you what it says and then what I think it means. Skill provides ownership over all that taken or freely given, as defined in... blah blah. Skill advancement requires adept use of soul manipulation techniques. Contract as defined, blah blah, must be fitted to target or targets, blah blah..." Merry scratched her head. "Contract is binding, with cost comm... commens... commensurate? to the degree of soul manipulation..."

"I find the very fact that you have some kind of soul binding technique disturbing," opined the Devil.

Merry just held a finger up in his direction as a shushing gesture.

"...terms of the contract can be any that are stored as soul or type binding assignments in the System, so long as those terms do not conflict with another binding arrangement. Soul and type binding assignments include but are not limited to... uh, a lot of examples, but I'll say form and nature." Merry lowered the piece of paper. "The hag turned monsters into a weapon because she could change their form. Controlling someone that you kill has to be both turning their form into an item and also changing their nature, right? But if you can form your own contract, you could also just specify that the dude is no longer evil without taking control."

I nodded, though I didn't feel particularly encouraged. "That doesn't mean that things will be good, though. Even if he's not evil, as long as he's the boss of the dungeon, Dungeoneers will come kill him."

Merry nodded, lowering the paper. "Yeah. But if you took him out of the dungeon, where would he go, anyway?"

"I'm sorry," the Devil broke in, "but are you seriously suggesting that you have the ability to rewrite my soul to make me no longer evil?"

Merry turned to him. "Only with your consent. Unless you dropped your own corpse upon dying, I don't think we can force it on you."

He considered what my fairy said for a long minute before asking a simple question. "Can you rid of the Satan's Valet thing, too? That guy always has the most unreasonable demands."

I just rolled my eyes. "Sure. I mean, it means nothing to anyone but you. And, I guess, Satan, if he really exists out there somewhere."

"Also, as long as we're talking about wish fulfillment," said the Devil, "do you think you could, ah, increase the size of my... well, I mean, it's not as though it's not of reasonable size, but you know, there are just some devils, I hear, that just have really big ones..."

I put my head in my hands as I considered just where, exactly, my life had taken this kind of a turn, as the Devil talked about exactly what it was willing to sell me his soul for.