The NU Demon

I peak over the top of the ramp at the goddamn military fortification that has been erected on the first floor. And by erected, I mean they basically turned the entire first floor into a damned fort! That in itself wouldn't be a problem because of my disguise. No, the problem is that they have guarded the doors and are checking everything going out. Crates, boxes, barrels, all are being searched. Every demon and cultist questioned, regardless of their status. A very big octopus looking demon with a humanoid head and barbs instead of tentacles argues with the guards, who appear to be a mix of well armed cultists and powerful demons. Despite the fact it's floating in the air and very clearly too powerful to be me, they won't let it through.

"We're sorry milady, but the commander has ordered that everyone leaving is to be…."

"I don't care what your commander has ordered. Get out of my way or I will pulp you!"

The octopus, which is apparently female, starts to screech at the cultist in demonic. In response, a pair of bipedal nagas seem to appear from nowhere and flank the octopus, brandishing two large swords each and doing their best to be intimidating towards it. Except these nagas have red scales instead of green ones. The demon lord ass-hat mentioned a clan in his announcement about me on the third floor, I wonder if this is a different one.

Maybe I can get them to fight or something. They are different for a reason, and knowing demons, they probably wont get along.

The octopus takes this as a threat. It lifts one of its tentacles up and points it at the human cultist in front of it, the limb practically vibrating as magical energy rolls off it. In response the two guards raise their swords and let out a warning hiss. It seems like shits about to go down, when another loud hiss reverberates from across the room. The cultist hesitates for a second, seemingly recovering from almost getting ended, before stepping aside and bowing.

"Commander Shshshs says you are free to leave. Our apologies lady Deep Blue."

The octopus gives an angry huff before floating past and out the door. I try looking over to find the source of the second hissing, but can't see anything obvious.

I realize I've been standing around to long, and that the green ones are probably getting ready to reach the bottom of the ramp. So I crest the top of the ramp and turn right to go deeper into the entry area. While not as big as the storage areas on the bottom floor, the entry area is still very large on account of having to have space for cargo containers full of supplies and massive influxes of civilians. And while civilians are missing, there are still plenty of containers still scattered around the room, even a few in stacks. I swagger my way over to an open shipping container that will allow me to view both the entrances and the ramps and duck away inside.

Unfortunately it was open for a reason. A pair of cultists lay sprawled out across some boxes, not sleeping, but clearly not all awake either. I'm initially a bit confused when they don't react to my presence. But then I spot the handmade bong on the floor, and the bag of red powder next to it. Something tells me these guys hit up something a bit stronger than weed. Either way they seem out of it, but just to be sure I walk up to the closest one and poke him in the cheek. In response the cultist lets out a quiet, delirious laugh while sluggishly trying to turn their head to look at me.

"Pretty" he dribbles out while trying to reach for me. Only to clumsily roll off his precarious laying spot and crash to the floor. Silence for a moment, then he giggles again.

Shit, maybe I do want a shot of whatever they took. Be nice to forget this shit and the hole I'm stuck in. Ignoring the cultists I check the boxes. Same type we stole the launcher out of when we inadvertently raided that cultists convoy. Mostly rectangular wooden crates probably filled with junk, but I notice two of the locked military crates within the stack. One is buried under other boxes and the other cultist, who is laying in an awkward position staring up at the ceiling drooling from atop the pile. The other is right at the base, exposed, and easily accessed.

The problem is I don't have anything to pop it open with….. but my semi continuous 'friends' here might. I walk and stand over top the cultist on the floor. His eyes drift around lazily in different directions as he continues to babble nonsense. It's easy to yank his robes open enough to reveal a belt made of string with a crude metal pipe strapped to it by a carabiner. Nothing useful for opening the box. Then I remember some of these assholes' robes have pockets.

I yank his robes around some more trying to find, and eventually rummaging through a pocket on the outside.

"Hehehe, mommy I already had my bath today." He mumbles out with quiet delirium.

I freeze for a second at that comment then pull the contents out of the pocket. Just focus Lucy, you probably don't want to know what weird shit they're dreaming about. It's mostly junk, but I manage to fish out a pocket knife, the cheap kind with only six attachments made by the lowest quality bidder. I flip the blade open and walk over to the crate.

A sudden clash of angry hissing fills the air, aggressive and dangerous. I spin around, fearing the worst as I face the door, only to find nothing but the sounds echoing into the container from outside. I let out a deep exhale in relief. My guess is the greens finally caught up and the reds don't get along with them after all. I turn my attention back to the box, leaving the angry snakes to go at each other outside however they like. With any luck they'll thin themselves out so I don't have to deal with as many, or any if I'm lucky.

I slide the knife into the seal between the lid and body, just like Seymore had shown me before. Unfortunately, the moment I applied sideways pressure to jimmy the mechanism the knife gave out. Snapping away at its base with a metallic crack.

I curse to myself, tossing the remains of the knife to the floor. Of course it couldn't be that easy. I turn my eyes to the other cultist, he might have something. Hopefully something more useful. I scramble my way up the crates as the angry hissing outside seems to hit a new high in volume. More snake people must have shown up, or the ones outside really started going at it. I reach the second cultist, and I don't even have to look hard. I immediately spot a knife in its sheaf on his belt, which I pilfer without resistance. This one looks to be some sort of survival knife, definitely tougher. It's a little thick though, still I think I can wedge it in.

I get back to the lower box and jam the knife in, a little jimmying and a slide of the knife later, and the lid pops right open. I eagerly open the box, hoping to find any kind of hardware that might give me enough boom to blast some demons to hell.

Instead I'm meant with the taunting disappointment of an empty foam outline where a missile launcher once sat. Fuck! Can't have nice things around here, because the cultists already made off with all of it.

But I still have one more shot at loot. I turn my attention to the partially buried box near the top of the pile. Problem is it still has some other boxes on top of it, and a strung out cultist on top of them. Left with no other choice, I climb up the stack and take stock of how I can get the crate free. It should be fairly easy, once I get the cultist out of the way. Just need to move some boxes to the side, pick one up and drop it down a level.

But again, cultist in the way. Ah to hell with it, they're cultists, no need to be nice. I grab the drug addled fucker by his robe and yank, sending him tumbling down the crate stack to land on top of his friend. Also making a fair bit of noise in the process, but nothing that can be heard over the sound of perpetual hissing outside.

After a few moments of no movement or noise I call it clear, and shift my focus back to the crates. Push this one left, drop this one down, then shift this one right, and presto. Just like that I've unburied the treasure. I almost feel like a pirate. But instead of robbing merchants, I'm robbing cultists. Would that make me more of a privateer or a pirate?

I slip the knife into the gap, and after a bit of prying and shimming get the satisfying pop of the lid opening that I'm looking for. I eagerly throw it open to see my potential prize, but what I find isn't quite what I was expecting. Sitting inside, snuggly within the foam are the parts for a very big rifle. A MK2 Sabadon anti tank/demon riffle. Currently it's parted out, everything in pieces, including the body and barrel. Thank god, I immediately spot the instruction manual haphazardly smushed in under the barrel. No way in hell I'd be able to assemble this without it.

The problem is, shiny new riffle bordering on a cannon, no shiny new ammo to go with. Unless….. The case looks to be deeper than the space the foam takes up. So on a hunch I jam my fingers down the side and lift part to check underneath. I'm rewarded with a 'hidden' ammo compartment under the main one. One stuffed with a few prefilled ammo mags. Jackpot!

I greedily toss the shotgun and ammo pouch aside, pilfering the parts for the old and worn but seemingly working rifle from its foam prison. This thing is big, clearly meant to be mounted on its tripod to be fired instead of hand carried. But with my improved strength lifting and firing it shouldn't be a problem, probably. The problem is that there are probably over a thousand demons and cultists walking around out there. Some of them are powerful enough to not give a shit because this thing is no more painful to them than a poke from a toothpick.

Because some demons and defenders get so powerful they just shrug off bullets and even explosions. Supposedly Greyspade once just ignored getting shot by a tank. Then again only the lesser demons and cultists are allowed to fight me right now. That still doesn't fix the problem of having only like twenty to thirty bullets at most. While there are probably thousands of them. Those numbers just don't compare. Unless maybe I can use the ammo I have to stop them, not necessarily kill them.

Something Charles told me one time while we were playing the game Demon Smashers springs to mind. "Lucy, stop chasing the other team and go OBJ. It doesn't matter if you kill eleven of the twelve enemies if they still cap."

That doesn't quite apply here, but the logic of it does. I don't need to blow my way through the cultists and demons, or even make my way up to dick head's stupid little throne. I know I'm going to die here, I figured that going in. But maybe I can at least cap point before they get me. And by that I mean break their shit. This is no rocket launcher, but it is still a fucking 50.cal anti material rifle. It will still probably chip those stupid crystals of theirs if it doesn't outright shatter them. My odds aren't as good, but still favorable.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

I pull the manual out and start arranging parts as the hissing outside turns into the clashing of steel and the screeching of spells and pain. Sounds like the snakes got tired of only just hissing at one another. This is going to take a few minutes. A few I may or may not have. Slowly I follow the step by step guide, clicking, screwing, and slotting parts together. First the body is snapped together, then the barrel is screwed in, then the stock is attached. Then the bi pod, which thankfully has built in hand screws. The scope however has regular screws, which I manage to get tight enough to work with some jury rigged screwdrivering from the knife.

The final one is the real bitch, supposed to be an allen key screw. But by the time I'm done with it its half stripped and the knife turned screwdriver is dull. Still, the job seems good enough that it probably won't rattle itself apart on the first shot. This thing is nearly half as long as I am tall, unwieldy as hell, and will probably kick like a motherfucker.

It will have to do. I fish the ammo out from the under compartment, finding three mags fully packed with ammo. Two look like normal big ass 50 cal rounds, but one mag is marked with a purple stripe and has purple tipped bullets. I've never seen purple tipped bullets before. I find nothing in the manual or on the mag to indicate what exactly it is, aside from the fact it feels heavier than the other two mags. Some kind of heavy ammo maybe?

Fuck it. I slap the purple striped mag in. Time to teach the cultists not to leave high caliber weaponry laying around guarded by junkies. I grab both the regular mags with my tail. I probably wont get to use them, but you never know.

I take a deep breath, the sounds of fighting still echoing into the container from outside through the cracked door. I may be able to use this to my advantage though. If they are to busy beating the shit out of one another I might be able to slip out unnoticed entirely. Or at least long enough that they are chasing instead of blocking.

I slowly creep over and peer out the door, careful not to touch it in any way so as to not give away I'm in here. It doesn't matter ultimately, as I notice fighting right outside the door, two greens and two reds going at it trying to off each other. They can probably sense I'm in here, but are too preoccupied to do anything about it right now. The problem is they are so close I can't actually get out without ending up in the middle of their fight. Which is something I want to avoid if possible.

But they just keep fighting, neither side able to get an edge in over the other. After another minute of waiting I see my chance. The group shifts away from the door far enough that I can slip outside without immediately being at risk of stabbing.

What I find outside is mayhem. The rest of the greens, or what's left of them, seem to have caught up. And they are in a hell of a fight with the reds, and losing by the looks of it. Spells fly about, both large and small. Single target bolts of energy pierce through scale while fireballs land in the middle of large groups. The air smells like burnt meat, blood, and death.

The green closest to me notices my exit, and spins around to lunge at me. That proved a fatal mistake, as the red it was fighting dives straight into his flank and runs it through. The now dead green's partner realizes it is now out gunned and starts trying to back out. It's opponent keeps the pressure on him, while the one who just killed the green turns its attention to me. But that scuffle was all the time I needed to jump up, landing on top of the container in the stack while dropping my disguise. Something tells me it's going to be only fighting and running from this point onward.

I land on top of the container with a thud, and the new height gives me a proper view of the receiving area turned battlefield. In the time I was in the container, the rest of the greens seem to have finished off the fight downstairs and have caught up. Keen to not lose the chance at their prize, they surge against the wall of reds upon seeing me on top of the container. Despite having only half the numbers remaining. A few spells fly out of the crowd, all targeted at me.

A fire bolt whizzes past my head before I can duck. I start diving to the side just in time to avoid a stone spike piercing through the air where my head was less than a moment ago. A giant boulder misses wide and slams into the container behind me, rattling the whole stack but somehow not knocking it over. A short bust of a water jet splashes off the container under my feet, showering me and the snake men below with droplets.

I panicky snap back to my feet and jump up the next container in the stack, desperate to get distance. Because the farther up I am the less likely I am to get skewered. An icicle embeds itself into the container next to me as I jump up the final container. I almost clear the final jump but have to give myself a little boost with flight magic. Right as I duck over the edge I feel a searing pain shoot through my right wing.

A scream rips from my throat as I throw myself down on the narrow roof of the top container in the stack. I hear more attacks clatter on metal as they fall short, while the wind whistles as others fly over my head. I try to pull my wing around to inspect the damage, but every little movement makes it throb with pain. I carefully look over my shoulder, only to find a hole the size of my fish through the webbing dead center of my wing, slowly leaking blood and charred black around the edges.

Fuck! Why does getting hit in the wings hurt so fucking bad? Oh right, because there is a hole in it! Damn it, I'm not flying on that. Not that flying was a good idea right now anyway. Still, better through the wing than a lung.

I grit my teeth and recompose myself. This is bad, but not game ending yet. I take stock of my surroundings to gauge my options. There is another container stack nearby. I can probably fly myself over to it with what little mana I have left. Speaking of, how much mana do I have left?

Mana: 3,333/41,352

Not a lot……. Shit. Well, looks like I won't be tossing around too many screach spells. And I don't know if healing is even worth it. I doubt my spell is strong enough to close my wing in one go, and multiple casts will just leave me broke.

The ceiling offers nothing of any use. It's just flat and open, the perfect place to get plugged full of holes. The other container stack isn't a good idea unless I absolutely have to move. I can't see much without poking my head over the side, which promptly earns me a cacophony of hisses and a wave of spells thrown at me. Stupid nagas and their ability to cast spells!

The only thing really of note that might be helpful is the fact that the giant main door is wide open. If I can get outside I can at least get some …… reprieve. The door is open, I can see a wide view of the outside. I didn't look very hard until now, mostly focusing on things nearby that could help me. There's nothing outside that could help me, in fact a lot of the demons and cultists are watching the carnage unfold inside the entrance. Some curious, some amused, some annoyed, and some looking like they might want to join in on the fun. But none of that is important.

What's important is that I can also see one of the magic portal crystals. The good third of the top poking over some makeshift whatever the demons have piled up. It's unguarded, at least from angle I can see. I highly doubt anything expects me to take this kind of shot.

"Alright simmer down you sinning fucks. We will be activating the portal momentarily." The voice of the demon lord echoing out across the entire camp. But he sounds much more annoyed now, like someone had pissed on his shoes.

I flip the bipod out and lay the rifle down.

"Unfortunately, some stupid little rats decided to detonate a bunch of the ammo reserves down stairs. So a lot of you all will be unburying half the downstairs and salvaging the rest."

I check the scope, only to find it completely black. I check for a lens cover, but find none. Then I realize I'm a dumb ass and it's a powered scope. I click the power on and pray the batteries have a charge.

"Now remember not to kill all the imps. Their little stunt may have left me in a bad mood, but I'll be even more cross if a lack of them delays our plans any more."

The scope hums to life as something lands next to my feet. I look back and to my horror a live frag grenade, or what I assume is one, has been tossed up. I swing my right leg out and smack the thing off into the crowd below. It detonates a moment later.

"But enough of that. This is the moment, all the work comes together. All my resources and your perseverance pay off."

The cultists and demons go wild with cheers. I aim down the sights and take in what if offers. A actually fairly good view, with distance bars overlaid on the image, and a number at the top. A number changes as I shift the gun and thus the scopes position. It's got a built-in rangefinder.

"And awwww, it looks like our little reject half form didn't make it in time after all. Such a shame."

I shift the gun and take the range on the crystal. Then shift so the crystal is under the corresponding notch. Problem is this thing isn't sighting or calibrated at all, and I know my hack together job isn't going to help in that regard. But what else can I do?

"Just, I don't know, capture her or something. You can kill her if you'd like, I don't care any more. If any of you peons want to capture her go for it. She should be able to mother offspring like a mortal so maybe you can try to get some use out of her. Would be interesting to see where that goes."

I take and hold a breath, then pull the trigger.

Whatever this ammo is, it isn't normal. The gun kicks so hard I swear it's about to break my shoulder, and even slides me backwards a tiny bit. The shot leaves a blazing trail of purple that flies to the lower right of the crystal and off into the dawn of the morning sky.

"Hey, fuck heads, What was that? You idiots better Not break my damn crystals! I've had enough delays!"

I let out a curse and re situate myself, thankful that somehow the kick of the rifle didn't gouge my eye out with the scope. I take another breath and aim down the sites again. Below me I hear the clatter of lizard men trying to climb the containers.

I fire again, this time the shot almost grazes the crystal.

"What the shit is going….. It's her! Stop her you idiots, she's loaded enchanted rounds! Sbrugeth!"

I feel the air around me charge with magic, and an immense pressure bolts into the room and straight for me. I don't have time to aim again, I eyeball it, and pull the trigger.

A sudden large shape in my field of view eats the shot. I pull my head away from the scope just in time to see Sburgeth bring his massive clawed hands down on my left arm.

It shattered instantly. Unbearable pain shooting through me as he smashes, then crushes the arm in his grip before picking me up by it and wrenching me around.

Suddenly the world is spinning. More agency laces its way through my arm, and then every other part of my body as I'm hurled to the ground hard.

He could have killed me, but he didn't. They want this to hurt, and it hurts a lot.

"By your shit tastical gods you ungrateful little brat! I give you the opportunity to earn your privilege to live, and this is how you repay me!?" The angry voice of Bayloroth yells out from above me.

I open my eyes again, and crane my head. I'm at the base of his throne, he sits above me, looking down his nose at me with disdain and annoyance. Like someone would look at a fly they've swatted after it buzzes around them too much.

"What should I do with it, my lord?" Sbrugeth asks his master with a eager to please tone.

I look, there is a crystal to my left, so close, but so far. Somehow I've got the gun still in my right hand. Though calling it a gun might be too generous now. The scope is smashed, the stock shattered. The body banged to hell and looking like its barely holding together. I see a crystal to my right, so close, yet so far.

The lighting changes, the air takes on an uneasy feel. The crystals start to emit a hum that overpowers all the noise of the camp.

"I'm not even going to let you see the grand opening of the portal that will herald the beginning of the end for your world. Though that might be a blessing depending on how you look at it. Any last words before I have you tossed to an incubi to be made stock out of?" Bayloroth asks with a tone of victory and finality.

But I'm too focused on the crystal to care. With the last of my strength I force the around and across my chest, aiming it vaguely in the direction of the crystal. Everything hurts beyond words as my muscles scream under the strain and I feel what remains of my unshattered bones creak. I'm dead anyway, or worse.

"No!"

Is all he gets out before I pull the trigger, and everything goes white from the pain……………..

I have one final thought before everything seems to just fade away.

Fuck him, I broke his stupid toys.