Chapter 155: Maurice the Demon
Jack studied the bridge. It looked solid enough, ancient stone construction, wide enough for three people to walk side by side. But something felt off.
"You’re not coming with me?" Jack asked.
"What am I, your fuckin’ babysitter?" Maurice laughed, a sound like rocks grinding together. "I got you here. The rest is your problem. Now get moving before I change my mind and kick you off myself."
Jack took a step onto the bridge.
Then another.
The stone felt solid beneath his boots.
He walked forward, his eyes fixed on the castle in the distance. Five steps. Ten. Twenty.
Behind him, Maurice’s laugh echoed across the chasm. "Hey, Soul Warden! One more thing!"
Jack turned to look back.
Maurice was grinning, his needle teeth on full display. And then, with exaggerated slowness, he raised both hands and flipped Jack off with both middle fingers.
"Enjoy the fall, dipshit!"
The bridge vanished.
Jack had one moment of absolute clarity.
Understanding that he’d been tricked, that the bridge had been an illusion the entire time, that Maurice was exactly the piece of shit he’d seemed to be.
Then gravity took hold, and Jack plummeted into the abyss.
He fell.
And fell.
And fell.
Time lost meaning. Jack couldn’t tell if he’d been falling for seconds or hours.
The darkness around him was absolute, broken only by occasional flashes of something that might have been light or might have been his eyes playing tricks on him.
’If I ever get out of this,’ Jack thought with cold fury, ’I’m coming back for Maurice. And when I do, I’m going to make him regret every second of his miserable existence.’
The fall seemed endless. Jack’s stomach had long since stopped lurching. His inner ear had given up trying to tell him which way was up. He simply existed in a state of perpetual descent, waiting for an end that might never come.
Then, without warning, he stopped.
He didn’t hit anything. He just... stopped.
Jack found himself standing on solid ground, his boots touching stone as if he’d never been falling at all. His momentum was gone, replaced by perfect stillness.
Before him stood a door.
Massive. Ancient. Made of dark wood bound with iron that had long since rusted to a deep orange-brown.
Carved into its surface were scenes of battles, demons fighting demons, demons fighting humans, demons fighting things Jack couldn’t identify.
And at the center, a single symbol, a crown made of thorns dripping with blood.
Jack reached out and pushed.
The door opened with surprising ease, swinging inward on hinges that made no sound.
Light spilled out, and Jack stepped through into what appeared to be a pantheon.
Pillars stretched toward a domed ceiling. The architecture was reminiscent of ancient Rome or Greece.
Then the space shifted.
The pantheon dissolved like smoke, and Jack found himself standing in a throne room.
Everything was black.
The walls, the floor, the ceiling, all constructed from stone so dark it was like looking into a void.
Red drapes hung from the walls, their color so deep they looked almost purple in the dim illumination.
A red carpet stretched from where Jack stood to the far end of the chamber, leading to a throne that dominated the space.
The throne was made entirely of bones.
Not decoratively arranged bones. Not artistically sculpted bones.
Real bones, femurs, ribs, skulls, all fitted together with joints that still moved slightly, as if the throne were alive and breathing.
Dark metal had been fused with the bone structure.
Lanterns hung throughout the chamber, but their flames were different.
Instead of a red fire, the flames were black.
And sitting on that throne of bones was a figure that made Jack’s heart skip a beat.
The pressure hit him first. An invisible weight that pressed down on his shoulders, his chest, his entire being.
It was like standing under a mountain, or at the bottom of an ocean, the sense that something impossibly massive and powerful was pressing down with casual indifference to whether he could bear it or not.
[DING!]
[Warning: You are in the presence of a God]
[Extreme caution advised]
Jack forced himself to look up, to see what sat on that throne.
The demon was enormous. Seven meters tall at least, his form humanoid but clearly inhuman in its proportions.
His skin was jet black, so dark it seemed to be carved from the void itself. But running across that darkness were veins of bright green that pulsed with power.
Horns curved from his head, massive things that could have gored an elephant with ease.
His eyes burned with green fire, two points of emerald flame that tracked Jack’s every movement.
He wore no shirt, his torso exposed to reveal muscles that could have been sculpted from stone. Scars crossed his chest and arms, white lines against the black skin that told stories of battles Jack couldn’t imagine.
Leaning against the throne was a great sword.
No, calling it a greatsword was like calling a mountain a hill. The blade was easily twice Jack’s height, its width broader than his torso. Dark metal etched with glowing green runes.
The crossguard was made from what looked like dragon bones, and the pommel was a skull with green flames burning in its eye sockets.
"What’s a little lamb doing in my throne room?"
The voice was deep enough to vibrate Jack’s chest. Not loud, but carrying weight that made Jack’s ears ring.
The demon god leaned forward slightly, his green eyes narrowing as he studied Jack with interest that felt more predatory than curious.
"Smells like a human."
This wasn’t just a demon. This wasn’t even just a powerful demon.
This was a god. A real, genuine, terrifyingly powerful god who could probably erase Jack from existence with a thought.
And yet, Jack felt no fear. Not the paralyzing terror he should have felt standing before divinity. Instead, there was something else, curiosity mixed with a strange sense of familiarity.
As if some part of him recognized what sat on that throne.
The demonic essence flowing through his veins resonated with the god’s presence in a way that felt almost... comfortable.
Jack’s hand instinctively moved to Draven’s pendant at his neck, the metal warm against his blood-stained skin. He wore two god’s blessings already. What would happen if he accepted another?
The demon god’s green eyes tracked the movement, his smile widening as if he’d seen something amusing.
"Interesting," the god rumbled, his voice making the black flames flicker. "You carry divine favor already. Yet you stand in my throne room, uninvited and unannounced."
His massive form shifted forward slightly, the bone throne creaking under his weight. "Tell me, little lamb, are you brave, or simply too ignorant to understand the danger you’re in?"
The demon god smiled, revealing perfect white teeth.
"Well, little lamb? Are you going to answer me, or are you going to stand there gaping like a fish until I lose interest and crush you?"
Jack forced himself to activate Flawed Sight despite the pressure threatening to drive him to his knees.
His enhanced perception reached out, trying to analyze the being before him.
[Target: D...]
The system cut off, unable to complete the analysis. The name was there, just beyond Jack’s ability to read, blocked by power that his current abilities couldn’t pierce.