“The dungeon has evidently rearranged itself,” the lieutenant breathed to Ralph as he ran his fingers appreciatively over the fine leather boots I’d woven into being through Physical Essence. “You didn’t anticipate the traps in the first room.”
“This is the second time you’ve questioned me, Zarrik. One more slight against me, and you’ll find I am not so different from your previous chief.”
Ah, the folly of brazen courage. I couldn’t wait to make it the cause of Ralph’s downfall.
I could’ve pulled the trigger on the Hellbats and my new Storm minions right then, but I needed more. The prizes had caused some of them to lose their edge, and the obvious madness of their leader was weakening Ralph’s magical power over them. I could feel the sweat drip from their brows and splash against my floor. It was salty and sweet—it tasted like delicious fear.
I chuckled as I redirected my minions and sent them screeching and howling up into the soul forge alcove. The adventurers tensed, lunged away from the altars, and turned their gazes up to the invisible vents. My alcove was directly above them, but instead of sending the minions through the vents, I hurtled them down the stairs from the antechamber. The redirection confused the pirates as a whirling column of Storm and Infernal Essence descended upon them. From the other side of the Pretzel, I pulled the last of my minions into the trapped corridor.
Classic pincer manoeuver.
The Sand Pirates, caught on two sides, instantly adapted. Four faced the corridor, slashing and slicing Hellbats out of the air while Ralph and his lieutenant spun and covered their backs from the stairs. Even as crossbows twanged and eliminated two Hellbats, the close-quarters setup of the hallway rendered the spearmen almost useless.
My jewel contracted with anticipation as a Storm Sprite clung to a man holding a spear and stunned him. My Storm Sprites worked similar to a status-effect—they froze the pirates long enough for my winged hellspawn to damage them, but their enchanted equipment and teamwork prevented any serious damage. A Hellbat whirled around Ralph’s attacks, latching onto his hand and ripping at the fresh meat underneath with glittering white fangs. The Chosen One howled and reeled backward, leaving a gap in their ranks.
I watched the Infernal and Storm Essence swirl as the pirates crushed, slashed, stabbed, and shot the bats and sprites from the air. The crackling electricity of the Storm Essence didn’t swirl into the adventurers as the Infernal Essence eagerly did. I absorbed it through my dungeon walls, feeling my core crackle with newly-found energy.
“It’s time for round two, Puck,” I willed.
Then my newly-forged champion slithered from his alcove, as slippery as a greased serpent. Infernal magic flickered around him, and once again, his area-of-effect spell blasted out from him, clouding the chamber with the smell of boiling ammonia and sulfur. The magic seeped into minor wounds and surface-damage scratches. The pain in the pirates’ bodies spiked into something far more vicious.
But these were professionals, and they weathered the intense sensations as they mowed down my minions. Infernal Essence howled in their bodies, and the more they drank in, the more manic they became. I tried to absorb the essence before they could acquire it, but my jewel was too far away, and they were too close to the monster corpses.
The Sand Pirates possessed a resolve that the Scalpers had lacked. Or maybe they were filled with more essence than any rational creature would consume at once. Either way, the grit of their teeth, their grim smiles, and the cunning in the eyes were teaching me something.
These men wouldn’t give in. They would fight to the death.
And I was more than willing to give it to them on a hellish platter.
Chapter Thirty-One
Puck slid up a wall and his claws aided him against the carved patterns until he found the ceiling. Then he released his grip, tucked his wings by his side, and plowed into a crossbowman. My champion’s new form was much larger than an imp, and he crashed into the man like a predatory bird smashing into prey. The pirate could barely lift his weapon before Puck’s shadows rolled over him and devoured his face like some kind of acidic mist.
I was really starting to like this new version of Puck.
Even as the pirate screamed, he drew a dagger and sliced madly at the Shade. My champion detached himself and somersaulted backward before twin shadow-spheres flickered in his hands. They crashed against the unfortunate pirate’s gushing face and neck, raced into his bloodstream, and caused him to fall to his knees and damn near claw his own face off.
Then the pirates descended upon Puck, paying little mind to the few sprites and bats that remained. Their blades tore into my champion, and his blood splattered across the walls. The mist had vanished, leaving the leather-skinned creature that had Puck had become completely vulnerable.
Ralph ripped a Hellbat out of the sky with a sword-slash and dashed it against the wall before driving his second blade into its body and ripping it wing from wing. He drank in the essence with a raw-throated yell, and whirled back toward Puck. My champion managed to scuttle away from his attackers and find refuge in the vents above. The pirates roared at their loss of essence and attempted to shoot him down, but he crawled a little further into the duct so they couldn’t reach him.
He’d taken too much damage - my champion had put up one hell of a fight, but even he had his limits against these fucking Sand Pirates. Even without his magical mist and suffering from serious wounds, Puck wouldn’t shut up.
“Tell me, oh Chosen One,” he panted from the vent, “why two swords? One should be perfectly sufficient for your purposes. Are you trying to compensate for something?”
“You have a big mouth for someone who hides away,” Ralph sneered.
“Hiding? I’m merely catching my
