Sprigelle 23, 1995 [E.o.S (7)]

[Welcome, Emmanuel Burroughs, to the Final Chamber.]

The words hung in the air in front of me, sun-ray gold text popping in on a crystal blue screen.

[This is your ultimate challenge in the Trial of Blessing. Conquer this chamber and you shall earn your prize. However, take caution. While you may have been safe from any permanent injuries in the previous chambers, the moment that you step into this room you will be playing for keeps. His Majesty will not intervene in order to rescue you. If you wish to leave, turn around and do so now.]

The text paused, politely giving me the chance to chicken out.

Hah! Not fuckin’ likely.

After a moment more, it continued. [Good. Those who are not willing to risk it all do not get the chance to win it all. You may proceed into the Final Chamber, Emmanuel Burroughs. Check your equipment, good luck, and good fight.]

The text vanished first, followed by the screen, turning more and more translucent until it was gone. Staring me down was a massive stone double-door, easily twenty feet tall. The frame of the door was crafted from a beautiful, almost completely white wood, while the door itself was made from the same smoothed marble/granite looking stone that the rest of the Tower was. With a low, earth-shuddering rumble, the door to the Final Chamber opened. Bright, shadowless light spilled outward, revealing a golden portal that reached from floor to ceiling. It hummed with power, sending a wave of goosebumps to ripple over my body.

I let out a low whistle. Damn, that was bigger than I expected! All the other room transfer portals had only been slightly taller than I was. I suppose it made sense though. This was the grand finale after all.

Okay then, inventory time. Better safe than sorry.

I reached up and grabbed both the thick leather straps of my adventuring pack on my shoulders, slinging it off my back and onto the ground with a heavy *thump*. It was a tough old thing, made out rugged cloth. It was a dark green, with some spots of lighter green from where the cloth had worn a bit thin. It’d seen it’s fair share of tumbles during training for sure.

Shoving my arm deep inside the pack, I took a general count. Alright, whadda we got here? Potion? Check. Back-up potion? Also check. Rope, hook, bandages, splint. Check check and check.

Glass bottles tinked together as I rummaged through my various thing, making sure I had everything I could possibly need. Well, everything I could probably need at least. And a couple things I likely wouldn’t, like I doubted I would need a frickin bomb, but you never know, right? Satisfied, I closed the bag back up, and made sure all my equipment was on nice and snug.

Everything I wore was the definition of ‘run-of-the-mill’. Standard light armor; leather chest plate, some light shoulder-pads, and some bracers for my arms. Nothing fancy, I couldn’t afford anywhere close to fancy. I had dark pants made of thick cloth tucked into my leather boots for maximum maneuverability. Generic as possible.

Oh, and my belt I guess, complete with weapon loop, where I had hung my weapons of choice, the trusty gauntlets. Swords were cool and all, but I didn’t trust anything more than my own fists. I slipped the tough iron gauntlets on smoothly. They were perfectly sized to my hands (Can thank my best blacksmith bro Ferrous for that), and had long cuffs, the smooth metal coming up almost all the way to my elbows. And Ferrous even did me a favor, adding tiny jagged edges to each finger and knuckle section, making them extra deadly. Okay, maybe those weren’t so generic.

With the inventory and equipment check done, I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with as much air as they could hold.

“Haaaaaaaaaah!” I let it out in an over the top sigh, bleeding out tension. A smile crept across my face.

Alright Emmanuel, you got this.

I slung my pack back on, stepped forward into the portal, and my entire world turned into golden light.

———————————-

When the light faded, my eyes widened in shock.

What the hell?

I was in a small room, twenty five by twenty five feet at the most, with a low hanging ceiling. That was interesting, considering the rest of the Trial Chambers, though they all had their differences, had been absolutely gigantic. But they were still all made of that same marble/granite hybrid stone.

Not this room. Nope, this room was made of jet black stone. At least, I guess it was stone? It was hard to tell honestly. It was a few shades darker than midnight and didn’t seem to have any texture at all. Not just flat, or smooth. Nothing, like it was solid black air. Slowly pulsing veins of red light traced erratic lines over the walls, giving the entire room a distinctly menacing atmosphere.

I shivered. Alright, not feeling quite so confident anymore.

I barely had any time to get used to the new environment before I heard it.

*VWOOP* *VWOOP* *VWOOP*

A low pitched, spontaneous rumble of static. The unmistakable noise of a monster spawn. Three rumbles meant three monsters, and with the accompanying motes of light swirling in three small clouds in front of me, it wasn’t hard to see where they’d show up. The light joined together in a rush, coalescing together to create the monsters before my very eyes. The three sprang into life with a grating yowl, like a cat being kicked. Then they laughed, which was even worse.

“Nyeh heh heh!”

“Nyah hah hah!”

“Nyoh hoh hoh!”

Staring me down were three Lesser Imps, chuckling evilly, claws and teeth snapping at me.

Good Lord were these little bastards ugly. Each one was about the size of a small child, with muddy red, pocked marked skin. Their lumpy egg-shaped heads were bloated and topped with curling ram horns, looking far too big for the imps’ stick thin necks. Shifty pinprick eyes stared at me from under saggy eyelids. Don’t forget the boils and crooked nose either.

But the worst thing about ‘em was their disgusting bodies. They had the bodies of pot-bellied old men. Equal parts flab, sweat, and wrinkles. Their skin was thin—paper thin—and where there wasn’t a dark purple liver spot, reedy red veins visibly pulsed with demonic essence.

No, they didn’t wear pants. Yes, that does mean what you think it means.

Even though looking at them was practically a physical assault on my eyes, I smiled. From the aesthetics of the room, I’d been expecting much worse, like a full-on Fiend or something. That would have been tough, to say the least. But three Lesser Imps? That didn’t worry me. Ugly or not, that’s basically just a gang of kids with knives. From previous experience, that wasn’t much of a threat.

“Well hello there boys! How ya doin’?” I called to them, waving my hand jovially. The imps paused their sneering chuckles and looked at me in confusion, caterpillar thick eyebrows furrowing. I nodded, then squared up for a fight. My fists came up, polished gauntlets glinting menacingly in the red light. I led with my right side and bounced lightly on the balls of my feet.

“Yeah, you all, the three ugly ass imps. I know you all are too stupid to understand this, but I’m gonna go ahead and tell you, you should attack me all at once, not one at a time. It’d be more interesting that way.”

The imps collectively froze, eyes blinking slowly. Then the middle imp’s lips curled into a snarl, flashing broken, but still razor sharp, teeth. The imp lurched forward onto all fours and shot forward before the other two got it together.

I shook my head, a wry grin on my face. Yeah, that’s about what I expected. Then I took a sharp, deep breath, pulling a mighty rush of air into my lungs, focusing on the imp intently.

Like a charging bull, the imp rushed forward, sharp claws scraping and clattering on the floor, pot belly swinging wildly from side to side. He was surprisingly fast, I’ll give him that. One second he was on the other side of the room, then he was in front of me. His legs coiled and he sprung, launching his lumpy, bloated egg head at me, claws outstretched and ready for rending.

What did I tell ya about over-thinkin’, boy? Yer not dancin’ round with the blade, and yer not goin’ for anythin’ tricky! Ya fuckin’ get in there, put yer fuckin’ back into it, and punch em square in the fuckin’ face. If they dodge, ya swing faster. If they get up, ya hit em harder. Those are the only two rules of fist-fightin’, and ya had better learn em well.

This was a punch I’d had beaten into my blood. My left hand shot forward, ripping through the air in a textbook left cross. Coach Caliber had drilled hours and hours of fighting form into me (Two rules or not), teaching me how to put my everything into every punch I had until I was black and blue. My left heel turned outward, acting like a natural fulcrum, hips rotating, driving my body’s weight forward and into my fist.

If you’ll excuse me tooting my own horn, it was a damn fine punch. My fist collided square with the imp’s ugly mug like a sledgehammer, the force from the imp’s jump only adding to the strength of the blow. There was an immediate ‘CRUNCH’ and a softer ‘pop’ as I caved the imp’s entire nose in, shattering it completely. It didn’t stop there though, my fist driving deeper into the imp’s face. There were a couple of more crunches, though I wasn’t as sure what that was. Jaw? Eye-sockets? Maybe both.

There was, for lack of a better term, a small explosion of blood. The tiny, sharp edges on the fingers of my gauntlets had done their job, tearing bits of flesh from the front of the imp’s face. That was in addition to the fountain of blood from his nose and the small streams of blood coming from his busted ass eyes. Oh, and his mouth, where he was now missing most of his teeth, bloody red holes in the gums where they used to be. Ah, both it is.

All in all, it wasn’t pretty. The imp hit the ground with a wet *plop*, the thick (Almost glue like, really) red blood pooling liberally around him.

Dead. As. Hell.

I shook my left hand furiously, trying to fling the blood and flesh bits loose. The other two imps just stared at me, mouths agape.

I shrugged. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! I did warn you guys. You two still gonna try one on one?”

The two looked at each other. Then back at me. Then, back at each other, all traces of earlier animalistic rage gone. Now they looked more like a couple of kids getting caught elbow deep in the cookie jar. A couple of very ugly kids. The two imps nodded, then began to slowly flank out to the sides of the room, staying upright this time and taking it much more carefully.

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s better! Good job.” Two thumbs up flashed for the imps.

I got back into boxing stance, bending my knees low, coiling them like a leopard ready to pounce on its unwitting prey.

I waited, holding my breath as the imps shuffled their curve across the room. The tension was thick for a few long seconds as the imps crept closer and closer, both preparing to throw themselves at me.

But I struck first. As soon as the imps reached the halfway point of the room, my legs uncoiled and I launched into action. My feet pounded forward in two quick steps then I flung myself onto the imp, landing on top of him and smashing him into the ground. I sat on top of his chest, and he flailed under my weight, thrashing his arms wildly, claws swinging everywhere. I grunted in pain as he nicked my thighs up real good, slashing them open with thin crimson lines.

I ignored it, stiffening my back ram-rod straight. Both of my fists raised into the air, and I slammed them down directly into the imp’s completely open face. You ever squeeze a ripe, juicy, plump-as-hell grape till they pop? This was a lot like that, except I’d say the imp’s bloated head was more than just ‘ripe.’

*Crunch*

*Shblorp*

My fists broke through the imp’s forehead like the rind of a melon, which didn’t bother me too much. But I hadn’t considered what it’d be like to have my hands covered in Lesser Imp grey matter. It was bad. Greasy, sticky. And smelly. So, so smelly. Like tar mixed with human waste.

I retched. Oh God, I think I’m gonna be sick. Two fists had definitely been too much. I retched again, then scrambled to get off the imp’s corpse. Wow. That’d been a successful move, but definitely was not gonna do it again.

As I stood—getting back into fighting stance of course— I scanned the area for the last imp. If he was smart, he’d be trying to get the fuck away from me (Not that he really could in a room this small). But he definitely wasn’t smart, so I had to be prepared for an attack from anywhere.

*Click clack. Click clack*

I froze. Soft tapping noises from directly behind me. Very soft, and very slow. I waited several seconds, but the noises didn’t happen again. I started moving again, turning very carefully in a circle, this time listening intently.

*Click clack. Click clack*

Once more directly behind me, almost un-noticeable among the background noise of my movement. Yeah, that must’ve been the imp. This last bastard was way craftier than the Bestiary had given Lesser Imps credit for. Timing it’s movement with mine to stealth on up? Color me impressed. I had expected it to freeze up after seeing me sprint at Imp Two and clobber him. If they had all acted this way from the start, I’d have actually been in some deep shit.

But as it was, it was just a single imp, so I kept slowly turning, more than happy to play along and let him get as close as he’d like.

*Click clack. Click clack.*

Seven feet out.

*Click clack. Click clack.*

Six feet out.

*Clickclack clickclack.*

Five and a half feet behind me. That one sounded different. Was it getting ready to pounce? I stopped moving, going as still and quiet as I could, trying to listen for the right moment. If I mistimed this, it was going to be very unpleasant.

*Huuu!*

There was a sharp intake of air. I immediately began whirling into an about face, whipping my arm around, hand open and ready.

“GAAAAAH-uurk!” The imp leapt directly into my trajectory and my hand met the imp’s neck mid-scream, gauntlet fingers biting into his throat like a wolf’s fangs, cutting him off with a pained gurgle.

“Sorry bud, you almost had me.” I said sympathetically to the imp. He stared at me, bloodshot eyes wide with panic, but I shook my head. “Nope, can’t let you go. Sorry.”

Then it was squeezed, squeezered, squeezest.

*Crack*

The imp’s neck snapped like a twig, his head lolling limply to the side. Dead.

*BING DING DING DING!*

There was rapid series of bell strikes, just like the end of a big Arena match. I jumped, flinging the imp’s corpse to the side like an old ragdoll.

*Boom! Bang Boom Boom!*

A series of explosions rang out. Like, from directly inside my head. I didn’t just jump for that one.

“OH SHIT!”

I know, I know. The epitome of calm and collected warrior. The explosions continued, but quickly muffled in volume, like listening to far-off fireworks. A light fanfare began, trumpets and other horned instruments trilling gleefully.

[Congratulations, Emmanuel Burroughs! You have completed the Final Chamber, and have conquered your Trial of Blessing! Please stand by while His Majesty tallies your score.]

Oh that screen! That beautiful blue screen! There it was, a brilliant, crystal clear, undeniable declaration of VIC-TOR-Y! I threw my hands- my blood splattered, brain covered, imp slaying hands— into the air and bellowed my success!

“OOOOOOOOOOOOO! WOOHOOOOOO! THAT’S RIGHT!” I punched the air once, twice, three times. This was it. This was the single best moment of my life. I was pumped. More than pumped. Thrilled? No, no. Ecstatic? Better, but that still didn’t feel strong enough. It was pure bliss running through my veins, charging me with an excitement I’d never felt before.

“Hahahahah! Screw every one of you bastards who thought I couldn’t do it! I’m gonna make you eat those words.” I crossed my arms and waited, a huuuge grin splitting my face. It was almost obscene how smug I felt about my fantastic win, but I didn’t even care. Hell, I was honestly expecting the Trial to be a lot harder than it was. If anything, I’d say it had actually been pretty easy.

The explosions and the fanfare were both immediately silenced. Gone.

And then I felt it.

The presence. Being watched taken to it’s farthest possible extreme. The crushing weight of the entire universe suddenly focusing intently--solely--on me. My knees collapsed, my body giving out under the pressure.

“Well now, aren’t you proud of yourself.”

It came from everywhere. I immediately recognized it. I, and every single other creature born in the land of Terralane had that voice embedded into our very souls, our very structure. It carried the force of a thousand brass bells. The warming comfort of watching sunset from Spring-view Hill.

That was the voice of God. Godking Samuel Lionheart.

“Emmanuel Burroughs, you and I are going to have a little talk.”