The lone survivor of the tribe fluttered closer, his voice taking on a pleading tone. “I’m incredibly useful. And incredibly loyal. This troll will require so much time and effort to maintain, yet I am so easily swayed by your allure.”
“Bertha chose to be my first champion,” I challenged him, “And she didn’t almost get me killed while doing it.”
I paused and thought over the possibilities. My timer was still ticking down, and even if the imp was no Bertha, I did need minions to protect my core. There was no telling when Gavin or the guilds would arrive to throw yet another spanner in the works.
“What can you do, Imp?” I asked finally.
“I throw shadow-spheres. Fly. Negotiate.”
They were all things that weren’t Bertha’s strong suit. I needed a balance—magic, mobility, strength, cunning, and fast talkers. Between Bertha, this Infernal Imp, and myself, I’d at least have a headstart on consolidating my power as a dungeon core.
“You speak of Lilith. The trolls—and apparently the imps, if you’re not lying to me—have abandoned her. She named me Viceroy. I understand your plight, and that the power of the Infernal monsters is waning. Yet you still worship Lilith. And you saw fit to bring me aid, of a kind, in my time of need. You will be rewarded with your wish. Consider yourself my champion, Imp.”
“You are the Infernal Goddess’s Viceroy?”
“Yeah,” I said. “We’ve struck up something of an understanding.”
Something about this imp was bringing out my whole evil overlord schtick way too much. Still, it was good practice. The monsters here seemed to respond well to it and took me more seriously when I cranked it up to maximum.
The imp’s mouth dropped to a gaping hole. “Truly?”
“Uh-huh.” I thought about telling the imp that I’d shared saliva with the demon goddess, but I’d always stuck by the motto, never kiss and tell. Besides, this imp was already stunned I’d even met Lilith; if I told him I’d kissed her, he might have a seizure. Also, I needed Bertha to stay focused, and couldn’t afford to take the time to explain that she might have to share me a little.
Any of the creatures I’d run into who took Lilith seriously—at this point, only Bertha and this little flying magic bastard—had served me well. I had another slot for a second champion, and this creature might even have useful evolutions. For all of the perks and apparent combat power of my avatar, I could only use it for an hour a day presently. The more loyal creatures I had watching my back, the stronger I could become.
The imp was no massive troll, but I’d already witnessed the offensive capabilities of his kind. Flight, the ability to communicate across huge distances through MindSpeak, and the orbs of Infernal magic were a set of skills I couldn’t turn down.
Alright. Time to capture this guy.
“Look into my eyes,” I said to the imp, and he turned his slitted eyes to mine.
Charm test . . . Success!
Puck the Infernal Imp successfully Captured!
Infernal Imp
Name: Puck
Core: Infernal
Rarity: Common
Possible Evolutions: 2 (Shade, Lava Demon)
“So, your name’s Puck?” I asked my new minion.
“Yes, Master,” he replied. His tone sounded much more subservient than before, so he must have been telling the truth about how easily he could be charmed. That, or bowing and scraping were pretty standard with new captures.
“And you’re an Infernal Imp? What’s the difference between you and those other imps we fought? There were only two of the Infernals.”
“They are lesser imps. Ordinary creatures of less-than-ordinary intelligence. The Infernal Imps rule over them. At least they did. Before you killed Squallish and Oltop.”
“They were the last of the Infernals?”
“Yes, Master. The last that existed in the Black Sands, at least.”
“Hmm . . .” If the Infernals ruled over the lesser imps, then maybe Puck would be far more useful than I had thought. It was a topic I’d need to follow up later, so I banked the thought. “I need to get to the top of the mountain. As much as I love kicking ass with you, I don’t really want to be here when Gavin comes. I’ve done enough essence farming for today. It’s time I started building my dungeon.”
Increased strength, two minions, and an ocean of Infernal Essence later, and today was shaping up to be quite productive. But I still had to get to the top of the mountain. At least now I had Bertha and Puck for bodyguards, and with them under my control, I could have them carry my jewel.
Bertha didn’t look in a condition to do much fighting, but her injuries were only skin-deep. Her eyes were clear, and she bore herself with a new kind of pride I hadn’t seen before, even while she was doing her damn best to break her bed with me. The gashes and bruises could wait; once my dungeon took form, I’d find a way to heal her. Either I’d do it by having Puck go for supplies, or by finding a way to infuse her with Infernal Essence and repair the surface damage.
My avatar timer’s seconds ticked down to fewer than thirty.
“Bertha, you’ll carry my jewel. Puck, you scout ahead. Watch for any potential dangers and inform me if you see anything.”
“Say no more, Master,” the imp said.
I looked down at the hands of my elf. My time was done here, but hell, had it been an hour well-spent! Two champions, a cavern full of corpses, and lessons learned. I was stronger now. I could fight, maul, and wrestle with the best of them. I could rip things to pieces and drink them dry to restore my strength.
My Tainted Elf was quick, but the power I’d gained from Bertha gave me
