Brand-Bound: Hallowed Be The Menu [Rivals-to-Lovers Slowburn Fantasy Romance]

On parchment so weathered from centuries in the acrid environment of the Demon Lords' Fall that it can only be read through the Interface, sits the last of the alternative gospels, detailing the earliest moments of the Church of the Menu:

Burn did the foul-pits of the Hellmarsh. Its volcanic fumaroles claimed many an unbranded knight, though shackle-thralls did use the brands imparted upon them by the Demon Lord and its agents to blaze sound trails through the marsh. They found hidden routes and braved many demonic raids to lead the brunt of the remaining foreign marcher-knights to the landing sight of the great and dreadful Demon King.

Hundreds of demons of all battle-castes swarmed like flesh-colored clouds in the air around their leagues-tall master. All moved with flawless grace, mere extensions of the fell lord's will.

But the joined hosts of men numbered in the tens of thousands. Many a freeborn noble risked capture and enslavement to finally fight back against the demon scourge. Foreign marcher knights fought on high ground where their heavy armor would not break through the thin fumarole ground. But it was shackled brand-slaves who led the van. Each branded could level up considerably with each slain demon, achieving prodigious strength far beyond even the most well-honed night. Though the demons kept enslaved humans in bondage such that they could seldom level up, mass liberation campaigns filled the ranks of the free with vengeful Shackled. They arrived at camp ready to fight back against the beast who had brand-bound their bloodlines to the accursed Menu forevermore.

Upon the fumarole hilltop stood Shackled Priestess Mia. She looked out at the scene on the eve of battle. Her hands lay softly on the gentle curve of her belly, as it had been four months and a half-moon since the quickening by which Paladin Roland did bless her with child in the campaign tent outside Fort Duran.

Mia gazed out over the Fellmarsh, much of it trampled underfoot by the multi-limbed bulk of the Demon King. Foul gases escaped from thermal vents and out of boiling pools. It was said the miasma could negatively affect the baby as it grew in her womb. By the good Paladin's insistence, she kept to the tall hills, out of the smog and fog whenever possible.

It was on one such hill where they made their camp. The same tent served as their joint bunk ever since the priestess did give herself to brave Roland.

"We can put off maneuvers no longer," Roland reported. "Battle shall be had in this valley tomorrow. I must insist that you return to the capital. They're building caverns beneath your ancestral shrine. If the worst shall happen, then you may hide to yet strike again…"

"Beseech thee no longer, my love," said Mia. "For I shall never know life outside the sun's light again."

Neither, too, shall our kin, thought the priestess.

Roland nodded. "Very well, my love."

The ancient order of Shamana and the foreign marcher knights both kept vows of chastity. But even beyond the vow-breaking of the Cleric and Paladin, the liberated peoples of the land were casting off all manner of strictures imposed by the demons and by human lords both. For the first moment in time immemorial, the good people of the world were talking of equality between men and women, branded and unbranded, free from the choking yoke of old mores.

Mia stepped forward, as far as she dare at the edge of the steep hill. Roland approached and embraced her from behind. He did hold her near-gravid belly, granting much needed relief and eliciting a great sigh. And Priestess Mia did fall in love all over again.

Their children would be Branded – even conceived by one parent under the Brand, it was inevitable. To be bound to the brand was their fate. But with the towering lord of death on the horizon slain, they would still live free. No cavernous ceiling above them, free from prejudice by the unshackled.

"If anything happens," Roland whispered gently into Mia's ear. "I'll be within arm's reach of you every moment during the battle. I'll never let you go."

"The visions Aldia sees in his cookfires have not failed us yet," Mia said, her eyes shut.

The voice in the fire had shared with them a safe route around demon patrols to the capital. A secret passage to open the gates. And the first path through this volcanic marsh. The weakness in the Demon King's skull, a quarter-league off center between its twin, towering horns… a mighty lance was being forged by top-level Shackled slave-blacksmith even now. Battlemage Aldia trusted the fire visions intrinsically. But the avatar in which they resided… Mia shuddered just thinking of it.

Still, the lovers cradled their yet-born children in the womb as they looked out over the sight of the final battle. With fear did they stare, yes, but also with boundless hope for the morrow.

Paladin Roland, the highest-ranking and highest-leveled of the rebellious Shackled, held his mighty gladius aloft. His vanguard, the marcher knights, foreign mercenaries, and liberty-minded folks all waited in formation. All fury would be unleashed at his signal.

The Demon King, for its part, had only moved a single limb a league to the west, in rough ground that was harder to reach on foot. It was theorized that the fiend could only move a single stride every day. It delegated most movement to its lesser antibodies, gathering all manner of demons in a defensive wedge near this limb.

As of now, the easiest point of approach would be the left-front claw. When positioned on the ground, it should be a steep, if manageable, grade to the devil's back. Beyond that their next chance was the tail – leagues to the north and east, and another day's march back along the length of the Demon King back to its 'crown.'

Battlemage Aldia approached the Paladin, wearing his signature robes, hiding pale skin from lack of sleep.

"Lord Roland," Aldia began. "I have consulted the fire. You must know…"

The mage whispered into Roland's ear.

"So that's how it is?" Roland grimaced. "We need to get up there before it matters."

"The Lance is prepared, m'lord. Each party leader will have at least one…"

Roland nodded. He traded for it with the Battlemage. Then, his sword arm trembled, catching the sun even through the volcanic haze. Without a word, he swung it vertically.

A mighty war cry went out over the marshes. All forces, Branded and freeborn, knights and peasants, charged this last redoubt of demonic menace.

Paladin Roland observed the battle to end all battles from outside his command tent.

The combined forces of man advanced on all fronts but the air (where only demons could tread) at monumental cost.

The main force of knights was two leagues from the Demon King's ever-leering face. They were supposed to avoid the area below the maw, for that could lead to only death.

"The fire was clear," Aldia said repeatedly, a shadow of his formerly kept-together monster slaying self.

"Aye, should have stayed at the docks," Gustavo muttered.

Still, the old thief remained with the party for the duration.

Mia stood by the Paladin's side as the battle raged below. Roland would give orders and make signals, and the rank and file would either fall back or charge based on his command.

Hours passed, humanity advancing, but no closer to the piercing the iron defense near that left paw.

"Damn it all," Roland said. "If we don't get someone up there before this thing tries to reposition…"

The thought was scrambled when a shout rang over the camp. "Flyers!"

Great bat demons approached. The camp was prepared. Mia cast a simple protection spell upon her love as archers wielding hefty greatbows and Battletower-derived crossbows shot the fiends down in a flechette haze.

"Keep pressing. Have the marcher knights flank the arm," Roland said.

"Aberrant! Aberrant!" a guard cried.

Something fat and fast dived from behind, landed off Roland's left shoulder, and quickly took off. Before Mia knew it, she was afloat, her arms being held in twin claws.

Mia gasped, struggling fruitlessly to protect her midsection. She looked up and saw the rotund and snarling profile and squat bat wings of a gaoler demon. The same caste of fiend that had imprisoned her and her line in the Southern Shackled Asylum for generations. The demon let out a sinister chortle as cries of shock and retribution sounded from the camp.

At least, the priestess realized, she wasn't about to be dropped from this great height. Indeed, her captor wished to keep her, and her beloved cargo, alive for a time. From up here, Mia could see the battle turn away from them.

The Demon King opened its city-sized jaw. Purple miasma flooded out from between razor-teeth, falling upon the furthest contingent of marcher knights. The fog enveloped them one and all. Long after the battle, when the smog dissipated, those who braved the impact site could not tell metal armor from fused, writhing flesh.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Again, the Demon King moved its rightmost claw. It cast a spell, and at once, entire legions of the left flank found themselves Shackled, stumbling about in pain from the branding. Reduced to level 1, they were easily picked off or captured by their demonic enslavers. Shackled soldiers of level seventy-plus still struggled, just barely etching out a foothold on the Demon King's forwardmost claw.

Humanity's rear reserves turned and fled rather than back up the faltering assault. Sinkholes swallowed whole brigades worth of parties. Out emerged burrowing Gulper Demons, with another horde of demons pouring out of the caverns they'd made. The horde had a straight shot at the camp.

Roland's camp had defenses, but they would not be enough. To stand and fight was to be overwhelmed. To retreat was to lose the battle, never to make it this far again. Mia briefly wondered about her fate. Her captor was taking her towards the Demon King's massive countenance. Were her children to be kept in the fell swamp? To see the sun, perhaps, but as servants to the massive beast?

A bellowing cry went out over the battlefield.

"Command outpost, equip spears!" Roland's voice could be heard even from this lofty abode. "All forces, charge!"

There was a chain that wasn't there before, running from the kidnapping demon's claw back to somewhere behind Mia. It wasn't there when she'd been picked up. Mia hazarded a look down. A man swung at the end of the chain. It was Gustavo in a last-ditch attempt to keep Mia safe. Was Gustavo's stunt on the orders of Roland? Or were these heroics of the reluctant thief's own volition? Mia hoped to survive long enough to find out.

Sights of battle disappeared beneath an acrid volcanic smoke. Sounds of clashing blades were still legible until they neared the thin air above the Demon King's head. Then they were sailing over the coarse skull chitin, itself a micro-region far different from the marshes.

The gaoler demon descended. Gustavo ejected and fell to the floor once it was safe enough to do so. Mia was placed, daintily, atop the Demon King's head. Twin horns towered over the crags and pores of the demon's bug-like chitin.

A purplish fissure sat just off Mia's landing pad. The weak point. Oh, if only she'd begged for a copy of the lance. They could end this here…

Demon Sentry #1 landed beside Mia. It held a finely-tuned machete, which it continued to file down. The demon chortled. It was keeping Mia here, alive, for what could only be one purpose.

"You are a thrall to the Demon King no longer," Mia realized. "You're here for Roland?"

But the Demon Sentry #1 only snarled at the name.

Mia huddled down. There were no other demons on this high perch. Just the Demon King, all encompassing, and this rampant sentry. She held her hands near her belly defensively and awaited rescue.

No sight and only the scarcest din of battle reached this lofty perch. Still, there was no sign of Gustavo, still hiding. All the while, Demon Sentry #1 loomed over the priestess.

Sounds of combat resumed from the east. Though the Demon King's limbs could not be seen from atop the summit of its head, there was a din of steel on claw from south and east. A squadron had made it to the limb!

Mia was left to wait as the din of combat grew closer. Demon Sentry #1 loomed over her, machete sharp and ready.

The first knight emerged over the craggy chitin and was immediately pulled down into the king by some trapdoor demon. Mia's heart dropped… but then, another ten full parties took that fallen knight's place! At the lead, with a Devilslayer Spear equipped on his back, and his gladius and kite shield in town.

"Watch your step!" Roland bellowed. "But keep pressing!"

Aldia summoned forth a trio of mighty lava tornadoes, scaring away trapdoor and gulper demons but failing to so much as scuff the Demon King.

Onward, Roland advanced. Lesser demons fell before his gladius. He was headed towards Mia, but the weak point his spear was destined to pierce was there as well.

Still, flying demons and parasitical demons attacked from above and under the Demon King's chitin. Terrestrial demons rushed in from behind, having cut this last squadron off from escape. Spear-wielders fell one by one. Still, Roland rushed forward.

Demon Sentry #1 stood behind Mia, picking her up by the torso in a clawed fist. It held the machete up to the pregnant priestesses' neck. To slay her, in view of the Paladin, and fight Roland at the extent of his fury and rage was its goal. This was no plan of the Demon King, steely and impassionate in its oppression. The Sentry Demon was rampart, having grown beyond its programming.

Smoke bombs distracted the Demon Sentry, diverting its blade at the critical moment. Gustavo attacked, knives slicing at the dense demonic flesh but failing to do much damage. Still, with Mia able to wiggle free, the attack was a success.

Gustavo parried and dodged the great machete. Each second that passed put Roland one step closer, one more demon slain by his sword. With not but twenty paces to go, Demon Sentry #1's blade raked diagonally across Gustavo's chest. Gustavo fell, exposed. The machete rose, ready to land upon his neck. When it fell, though, the machete bounced off with a golden crackle.

A spell, courtesy of Mia. Myriad Holy Blessings had saved the thief's life. Rather than keep up the attack, Demon Sentry #1 turned to snarl at Mia. Before it could advance, Roland leaped between them, shield up.

At high levels under the Brand, Roland and Demon Sentry #1 traded blows so quickly as to be imperceptible to unenhanced eyes. Blade met shield, blade met demon-chitin, and health bars chipped down piecemeal.

Mia healed and cast protective spells on her love. This enraged the demon, but Roland offered it no chance to attack. With one last climactic swing, the machete hit the shield. With a parry, the pair flew apart.

Roland breathed heavily. In its rampant state, the demon was enraged. Furious. It rammed its machete blade-down between a gap in the king's scales. Demon Sentry #1 flicked its nails into a razor-sharp, open position. Its own hide began to glow.

"It's turning red," Gustavo hacked, still injured. "It'll be three times faster."

The demon and Roland performed a flying leap at each other. Claws tore the shield asunder. But, Roland's fine-rafted gladius plunged itself deep into the demon's chest. He thrust it further, and when the demon kicked him off and withdrew, the sword remained deeply embedded.

Demon Sentry #1 wailed in something approaching pain. It pulled the gladius out of its own hide, then wielded it threateningly at Roland.

A ringing bell announced the presence of a new retinue of demons. The Demon King's 'personal guard', such that it could be described as such, emerged from a pore. At the lead was a Demon Templar:

A mighty sword of pure gold was held aloft. The Demon Templar clicked out some kind of demonic screed. Demon Sentry #1 snarled back. They were arguing, such that demons could argue.

With another wave of his golden blade, the Demon Templar cast:

With the gladius still in hand, Demon Sentry #1 began to float. Three runic spirals surrounded it… and was at once flung like a comet into the southern horizon. It landed out of sight, possibly having flown as far as the desert. The Demon Templar was left chittering its teeth in an approximation of a laugh.

To the surprise of all, the Templar Demon spoke in a harsh but audible tongue.

"Cavort with the Rot," it said, sword pointed at Roland. "You know not what you do. Disperse, and submit 10% of your unbranded population for tribute and quarantine."

The party said nothing, too flabbergasted for a response.

Roland switched to the Devilslayer Spear in conjunction with his broken shield. Other demons – a sickle-wielding Hunter Demon and a noncombat-oriented Castellan Demon emerged. The castellan summoned forth a shield, blocking further human reinforcements from approaching the fissure in the Demon King's armor. A slender Collector Demon in the wings sang, buffing all demons in hearing range. It was now just Mia, Aldia, Roland, and a critically injured Gustavo on the field. Their reinforcements were trapped between the barrier and a tide of demons of all kinds.

Only a single Devil-slaying lance remained, wielded by Roland. Mia lumbered over to the sidelines—her delicate state leaving her easily fatigued—and began to heal Gustavo.

The Templar Demon stood between Roland and the cracked fissure that would spell the end of the Demon King. Aldia locked blades with that Hunter Demon even as the Castellan Demon erected barriers around the weak point. The Templar had a shield of its own, a tower shield as if grown as an extension of its left arm, and it used this to bash Roland with an effect that forced Roland to drop his lance. It was scattered across the floor between Mia and the weak point.

Gustavo was by now healed enough to stumble to his feet. "I can distract that shield-spamming demon. Back Roland up, however possible."

"Of course," Mia began.

"Do not." Gustavo pulled Mia close. "Do not strike the Demon King until either Alida or Roland is in place."

While Mia did not understand Gustavo's warning, she nodded.

Battle continued. Mia cast buffs upon Roland that left him at parity with the Templar Demon. Armed with just half a shield, Roland blocked and bashed for a fair percentage of damage off the prodigious health bar.

That bardic demon hide behind a dozen shields and barriers, tripling his alies' speed and strength. Behind the largest barrier, the remaining human forces were slowly slaughtered by the demonic onslaught.

Roland continued to fight, outmatched. The spear was right there, too far to kick or throw it to Roland, but just a few precious steps from the Demon King's fatal weak point…

A pregnant woman hauled the Devilslayer Spear along the forehead of the Demon King. The stat requirements were prodigious, far too heavy to properly wield. But Mia did not have to wield the spear with efficiency to ram it into the fissure. One final hit is all that remained…

Everyone else was preoccupied. Mia rushed for the cracked fissure in the Demon King's skull. She held the heavy lance aloft. The soft chitin beneath its spear point would shatter with only a thrust. While pregnancy made simply holding the thing awkward, she would let gravity assist.

"Wait!"

Roland chipped the Templar Demon's natural armor with the jagged end of his shield. This pushed the mighty Templar away, allowing Roland to rush to Mia's side.

"Do not strike the fissure," he said, grappling with the spear.

Every second brought more death. Mia looked at her love, wondering what he possibly meant by this. The only way out of this certain slaughter lay in slaying the demon king. With no way to trade, though, they couldn't even swap the spear!

Roland, as gently as possible, gave Mia a tap. With his prodigious strength and skill, he set her stumbling back with relative ease. At the same time, he used:

The spear was taken from Mia's inventory and returned to Roland's. He must have had Gustavo teach him the thief-based skill. At any rate, Mia fell back, with Gustavo there to lessen the blow.

The Templar and Castellan demons rushed at the Paladin. With no time to wind up or thrust, Roland swung the lance around his torso until it was angled vertically down. He put his weight into a fall and let gravity do the rest. The moment the lance pierced the mighty beast, a stream of purple miasma erupted straight up into the sky. Roland's silhouette remained for a time, even as the Demon King began its slow-motion fall to the Fellmarsh floor.

By the time the Demon King hit the ground, a surprisingly smooth fall while situated atop the city-sized devil. Mia, Gustavo, and Aldia were left to watch the coterie of demons, of which the Templar demon was the last to flee, slinking back through some cervices in their master's carapace.

When the foul miasma abated, all that was left of brave Paladin Roland was a thin strip of skin around his neck brand. These calcified remains would come to be left in a wayshrine in the capital and prayed to as a relic for many years. It was later stolen in the two-hundred-thirty-fifth year of the church's reign and was lost to history.