Chapter 121: Brandy's Quest (Patreon)

A/N: The next chapter should drop within 5 minutes.

The ambassador’s words stunned the audience chamber into silence. For a brief moment, nobody dared to move; they didn’t make a sound, and they hardly seemed to breathe. Then, like the oncoming roar of a rushing flood, whispers filled the room as delegates and representatives broke into hurried conversations.

Surely, none of them expected such sudden, dire news.

Even Moeldywn, who had seen it coming and had been trying to prepare the kingdom for weeks, was ashen-faced and clammy-palmed. She let the audience chamber fall into disorder as she slumped down on her throne, lacking the will to contain them or the desire to say “I told you so.”

Moeldywn felt ill. She felt powerless and weak. Igor wasn’t necessarily a friend or a close acquaintance, but she knew the man. Both as a person and a ruler. He was, in many ways, her antithesis. The demon monarch to match the human. He was of a similar level, and his power could come close to hers, though she doubted it in secret. Demon supremacy or no, it was hard to match the gifts an Archdragon gave.

Moeldywn knew he would suffer this fate. Her intelligence, along with documented historical records, proved this was a very likely outcome, as Demon Kings rarely stepped down peacefully, and it was just as unlikely that they would retire.

She could have done something. Should she have? Moeldywn didn’t know. If it were any member of her cabinet, the [Chancellor] or her advisors, Moeldywn wouldn’t have given it a second thought. She’d’ve taken steps to ensure their safety.

So why didn’t she intervene on Igor’s behalf? Was it because he was so far away? Because they weren’t that close?

…because he was a demon?

Distance wasn't an issue for Moeldywn. If she had her mind set on something, she’d achieve it, whether it was leagues across an ocean or the next room over. Perhaps her solutions might need to get…creative, but she would solve her problems.

And yet…she did nothing.

Realistically, there was nothing she could have done. She knew this, and yet her insides tore at themselves as she was plagued by guilt and doubt. Such thoughts of indecision and uncertainty would follow her for the weeks and months to come, causing her anguish and grief as her people were plunged into war.

Moeldywn felt a headache coming on, her stomach sour, and she envisioned endless sleepless nights ahead. She closed her eyes, feeling defeated and drained, but most of all, tired.

This was, perhaps, the lowest point she had been at in a very long time.

Moeldywn’s eyes shot open. She felt it before she saw it, and, indeed, before it had the chance to plunge the assembly chamber into pandemonium.

A massive wave of magic washed over the chamber, strong enough to knock even the most mana-numb individuals off their feet. Cries rose up as people stumbled over each other or fell into their seats, every defensive magical enchantment and ward overwhelmed. For half a second, Moeldywn feared the worst; that somehow, their foe was even stronger than she could have possibly imagined.

But even a Demon King could not foil the defenses strengthened by generations of her ancestors.

Moeldywn’s heart leaped to her throat as a black spot appeared hovering in the middle of the room, surrounded by a miasma of turbulent, raw magic. Then the intruder made itself known, and all will to fight left her.

A gigantic obsidian claw the size of a horse poked a hole in reality, slid roughly down toward the ground like a dull letter opener struggling to tear through paper, leaving a jagged scar of endless night, sparkling with distant stars. The claw wiggled left and right, stretching and widening the void, warping the tear into a large oval, though it was nowhere large enough for the beast connected to it to step through. It couldn’t fit a second claw, let alone an entire dragon.

Instead, from the depths of the unknown stumbled out a tiny gnome, looking ridiculously small compared to the hole she so carelessly ripped in reality, panicking with wide eyes and frantic limbs.

“Melody!” Meliastraza wailed in her high, bubbly voice. “Melody! Are you alright?!”

It took several painfully silent moments for the gnome to climb the steps up to her throne amidst the deafening silence of the gathered assembly, each and every one of them staring in disbelief.

The will to care fled Moeldywn; her apathy was profound. How was it possible for her to be stressed out about, well, anything when a creature such as this existed?

Moeldywn had mostly recovered from her shock as she watched the gnome struggle up the steps. Meliastraza could have jumped up them if she really wished, or, gods above, flown. And yet it seemed nothing was in that empty little brain of hers except the well-being of her princess. It brought an amused, if exasperated, smile to Moeldywn’s face.

“Are you hurt?! What’s wrong?! Why are you so sad?”

“Meliastraza,” Moeldywn sighed. “Why are you here?”

“You were distressed!” Meliastraza exclaimed. “Like, really distressed! Something terrible must have happened; I felt it from the Phantasia!”

Moeldywn’s eyes widened. All the way from Oasis? Was there no limit to the reach of her senses? On one hand, Moeldywn was incredibly flattered. The most powerful dragon in existence cared for her so deeply she’d tear a shortcut in reality from the other end of U’lindala.

But on the other…now that the sky wasn’t falling and the world wasn’t ending, Moeldywn had a room full of nobles and important representatives looking at her strangely.

“Do you need a bear?” Meliastraza fretted while ringing her wrists. “I have a bear. I’ve got the perfect one!”

The gnome made a complicated hand gesture faster than the eye could track and a smaller portal opened up. From the depths of her inventory, Meliastraza proved she wasn’t lying: indeed, she had a bear. And what a glorious bear it was!

Made from a combination of [Glimmerweave] and [Crystal Silk] made from the webs of [Crystaline Spinners], the [Melii Bear] was like a giant ice sculpture. Moeldywn could see the floor and the steps through the bear, warped as if behind a transparent pillar of ice, shimmering with the light of a thousand fractured rainbows. The silly gnome squeezed it reassuringly, as if Moeldywn were a small child lured by a soft toy with a rattle.

…though, despite how cold and solid it appeared at first glance, the bear did look very soft.

The murmuring around the room grew, snapping Moeldywn back to attention.

“Ahem!” She coughed into her hand as she stood up. “This session is concluded. The assembly is dismissed!”

She did not wait to hear any objections or stick around for any prodding questions from curious gossipmongers. She quickly retrieved her new bear and marched toward the side exit of the throne room, the nosy little gnome in tow. As soon as they reached a private chamber, Meliastraza would let her go no further.

“Melody,” the gnome said, tugging on her dress. “What’s going on? That was bad, really bad; I’ve never felt you in so much pain before!”

“It’s…a long story,” Moeldywn sighed. She debated if she really wanted to try and explain things to somebody who most likely couldn’t understand. Meliastraza’s brain simply functioned differently.

“I have time,” the gnome said defiantly, hopping onto a nearby table and sitting down. Her face was scrunched into a “serious frown,” and she was likely trying to prove her good intentions, but it looked like a mopey pout and Moeldywn wanted to laugh. It was impossible to take gnomes seriously.

“I’m sure you do,” Moeldywn said wistfully. “And I’m also sure, if you put your mind to it, you could make my problems go away. But these are my problems, not yours, so you don’t need to worry about them.”

“But you can tell me?” Meliastraza needled insistently. “You can talk about it. It might make you feel better.”

“Maybe it will,” Moeldywn nodded. “At least for the time being. You see…Igor Wrathchild was killed.”

“Oh,” Meliastraza said sadly, but then her eyes sharpened and her face took on a truly hardened look. “Oh.”

Moeldywn studied the dragon carefully. As carefree as she appeared, Meliastraza had a deep memory. She knew people— their histories and their tales —and she could recite the lore of long-forgotten civilizations. She mingled with the best and brightest mortal-kind had to offer…and she suffered alongside them in their darkest hours. She knew Igor Wrathchild.

“He was an important man,” Meliastraza said thoughtfully. Moeldywn took note; the dragon would not say that about just anybody. “I didn’t know he was still alive. I should have guessed he was, since demons live longer than humans. He walked a long, hard road back when I was active before. I can only hope his later years were filled with rest. How did he meet his end?”

“He was killed,” Moeldywn said simply. “By the next to take the throne.”

“As the demons do,” Meliastraza said, shaking her head.

And then she surprised Moeldywn greatly.

“I suppose it’s finally time to act, then. Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” Moeldywn parroted. “What do you mean, go?”

“You don’t need to play coy, Melody,” Meliastraza said with a wry smile. “I know the conversations you’ve had with Brandy. I know you’re preparing for war. It’s the same with Brandy, don’t you know? She’s on her holy quest to ‘defeat the Dark Lord’; we’ve already set out. I thought we’d have more time, but apparently I was wrong.”

“Meliastraza,” Moeldywn said seriously. “Are you…sure you know what you’re getting yourself into? Are you certain you want to put yourself between the humans and demons? This is war, dragon. There will be consequences.”

“Oh, I sure hope there are,” Meliastraza said darkly, her eyes flicking back to their draconic state. “And you misunderstand. This is not war. Nor am I picking sides. This isn’t even a conflict between two races destined to be mortal enemies. No…this is about Brandy and me. Somebody made the mistake of meddling with my treasure and I mean to squash them like a bug.”

What could Moeldywn say to that? Nothing. So she didn’t. Her face paled and she nodded; these weren’t the words of a whimsical gnome, but the actions of the Archdragon. Meliastraza let her presence leak, suffocating the air around them and dropping the nearby servants to their knees. Her horns and tail burst out, and in a fit of rage, she spat a ball of fire down the corridor.

Thankfully, nobody was nearby to get incinerated, but the carpets might be a little singed. The dragon probably knew what she was doing anyway, since she could probably sense living things from quite far off. If their smell didn’t give them away, then their innate magic would have.

Meliastraza wasn’t idle. Once she made up her mind to act, she set things in motion. There, in the middle of a random hall in the castle, she opened up a portal. Moeldywn saw a glittering pile of gold in the background, and she had a bad feeling about it.

“Come,” the tiny terror demanded. She waved her hand impatiently, motioning at the portal, and she wasn’t satisfied until Moeldywn stepped through. She wasted no time following, and as soon as they stood in the open fields of Abbyton, it closed behind them.

“Meliastraza,” Moeldywn said hesitantly. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the Withers," Meliastraza said. Before Moeldywn could complain about a journey to the heart of the demon lands, the gnome bounded to the middle of her lair and transformed back into her true body. Every time Moeldywn saw it, it took her breath away. Truly, there was never a more magnificent creature than the obsidian Archdragon. The giant black head lowered to the ground and stared at her with a single amethyst eye.

“But first, we need to make a detour.”

Moeldywn didn’t need to be told twice. She scrambled up the dragon’s snout and lodged herself firmly against a horn. With two beats of her mighty wings, Meliastraza lifted off the ground…and headed south.

​

There was something surreal about sitting at a fantasy slot machine. It had all the trademarks of a modern-day piece of equipment, complete with anti-cheat precautions and variable probability selectors. It also retained the flashy allure and appeal of ancient mechanical devices, with a hand-pulled lever and spinning wheels. It even had lights, engaging sound effects, and what could be more iconic than the rhythmic clunk of metal coins filling up the tray after paying out from a vintage slot machine?

Brandy never thought she’d see a recreation of those mid-20th-century marvels, especially not while sitting on a padded stool next to an [Archer] wearing leather pants.

Granted, Jessica wasn’t helping things out by shouting things like “Big money, no whammies!” or “Show me potato salad!”

Brandy didn’t know this place had potato salad.

But if places like Penny’s could serve genuine 5-star cuisine over a multi-course meal, then surely some land somewhere on this world specialized in potato salad. Perhaps, sometime down the road of this long, inevitable quest she found herself on, Brandy would have to seek them out. She enjoyed a good potato salad every now and then.

Brandy was up on the day, netting a cool 50 silver after several hours of ups and downs, and she felt the time was right to quit. Sure, there was that old saying that people always stop right before the jackpot, but that was just stupid. Brandy enjoyed the risk and thrill of winning big, but she was no gambler.

…if she recalled correctly, once upon a time the game had considered adding a [Gambler] class. But when it came down to it, people didn’t want to literally throw their hard-earned money away, and the devs couldn’t balance it to make the class playable.

Jessica, on the other hand, was surprisingly shrewd. She could fleece a table full of noobs at blackjack or hustle a poker tourney like a real shark. But when it came down to it, the girl really liked to watch those slots spin. Brandy thought she’d have to intervene, but the [Hunter] never let herself dip below a certain line; if she did, she’d march back over to the tables, work her way back up, and then blow it away again at the slots.

All while sipping down some complimentary drinks.

What a strange world they lived in.

“Don’t you think it’s time we met up with the others?” Brandy asked, watching Jessica even out.

“Nah,” Jessica smirked. “If I know Ellesea, she’s probably at the DAMA tables with all the other math nerds. We’ve got time.”

Brandy was about to nod, but her ears involuntarily twitched as a familiar sound drew near. Funny how these antennas attached to her head seemed to have a memory back for sounds that she didn’t even have a name for. But several seconds later, as the sound got closer, accompanied by an out-of-breath pant and the shuffling of robes, she understood.

“You were saying?” Brandy smirked. Jessica turned away from the machine to question her, but her eyes locked onto the two figures rushing toward them. Brandy didn’t even need to turn around to know it was Ellesea and Y’cennia.

“There you are,” Ellesea huffed, catching her breath. “Something’s happening. Do you know where Melia might have gone? She was in the middle of a match when suddenly she froze, made a portal, and disappeared. She didn’t even stop to tell us what was up! That was several minutes ago now and I’m getting worried.”

“I’ve taken the liberty of retrieving Lord Alastair,” Lethia said smoothly, appearing behind them. Brandy hardly glanced at the other elf and shook her head. In the beginning, watching somebody appear out of thin air would have scared the pants right off her. Moments later, the [Paladin] came shuffling down the aisle, looking calm but confused.

“I see we’re all gathered here together,” Alastair said. “Has something happened that I should be aware of?”

“Melia disappeared,” Brandy said, glancing at Ellesea for confirmation. The small girl nodded as she straightened her clothes. “And by the sounds of things, this isn’t one of her standard, ‘Welp, that’s just Melia’s.”

“So what do we need to do?” Al asked. “Are we supposed to do something?”

“It would really help if we knew what was going on,” Brandy groaned. “With her, it could be anything. She could have been struck with sudden inspiration for a new dish she wanted to cook and zippied off to grab the ingredients–”

Suddenly, the whole building shook like an earthquake, sending panicked cries up into the air from nearby casino patrons. [Sunrise] was slightly more composed, with Al moving to protect his teammates with his shield and Brandy about to cast a protective bubble.

But the shaking stopped as soon as it started, and there weren’t even any aftershocks. In fact, it felt less like an earthquake and more like something impossibly heavy had landed nearby, even though the group was relatively far from the outer walls.

What really gave it away, however, was when a deep, commanding voice called out, probably broadcasting to everybody in the city.

“Brandy, I need you! [Sunrise], to me!”

“–or she could be a giant dragon right outside the casino, not caring what the people think,” Brandy finished with a sigh. “Well, we don’t want to keep the big girl waiting. Let’s go see what’s up.”

It took the group almost 10 minutes to leave the casino, and that was with them hustling toward the exit. Once they made it outside, they found exactly what they feared: a giant [Obsidian Dragon] sitting in the middle of the road, blocking traffic and absolutely terrorizing the locals. Giant cracks scarred the stone where she landed with excessive force, and several carts had toppled over. Thankfully, nobody got crushed, but at least two horses had broken free from their harnesses and had injured themselves in a frenzy. Brandy could hear Moeldywn scolding Melia from atop her head.

“Really, Meliastraza, you need to watch where you land,” she said in her incredibly posh, faux-British accent. “And would it have really killed you to wait to take off until after I changed? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to use a [Changing Room] whilst on top of a dragon’s head?”

It was hard to tell, but Brandy thought Melia looked contrite. But her chastened face brightened the moment Brandy came into view, and her giant tail began swaying back and forth in the street, shoving things this way and that like an unconcerned dog.

“There you are,” Melia grinned, her massive fangs fully on display. She lowered her head as close to the ground as she could and peered at Brandy with one large eye. Brandy’s skin prickled; she could feel magic working in the eye as the long vertical iris zipped around, practically looking through her. “Do you have your necklace with you?”

“Yes?” Brandy said hesitantly. As much as she didn’t like being saddled with an imprisoned goddess, she didn’t like other people calling it out, either. It was…personal. But Melia wouldn’t try to take it from her, not that she could do anything with it even if she did, so Brandy pulled on the chain around her neck and exhibited it for the eye. Melia blinked twice, the iris widened, and she drew her head back up.

“Good. You’ll need it. It’s time to finish this business.”

“Finish?” Brandy asked. “We haven’t even started! I know we talked about leveling, but, hey, is this really the place to have this conversation? Or the time?”

“Resistance is futile,” Moeldywn said. “She’s made up her mind. Join me on the seat of power and experience true flight.”

​

Riding on top of a dragon’s head, compared to being trapped inside a bubble clamped between its claws, was an eye-opening experience. For one, Melia was traveling much faster now than she had been after her attack on Horizon; for another, they weren’t skimming the water. Either due to magic innate to dragons or perhaps a subtle spell of comfort from Moeldywn, Brandy felt like she was riding a private jet. She watched the clouds zip past, breaking apart as they hit Melia’s snout or wings, but they slid away from the top of her head before enveloping the party and drenching them.

But as much as Brandy wanted to enjoy the experience, she could not. Melia’s words rang in her ears and all she could think about was the quest.

How she was set up on a pedestal as a “chosen one.”

How she was meant to kill someone in cold blood.

How she probably wasn’t meant to survive.

And most importantly…how much she avoided thinking about all of this before.

A month. Maybe two. That’s how long she’d been here on this world. That’s how long she had to come to grips with the fact that she’d been ripped away from her home, her job, her life, her pets…all because she was the only one who resonated with an imprisoned goddess.

And why? Because she played a healer in a video game?

She wasn’t ready. The group wasn’t ready. If this were the game, they wouldn’t stand a chance. No amount of RNG, luck, or any insane metric could overcome the level gap. She was barely level 200. Her party wasn’t even 400. And they were supposed to take on a Demon King? That was raid boss territory, not a 5-man encounter. This was a job that should have taken years. If they kept going, they were going to get slaughtered.

Except….

They had Melia.

The only reason Brandy wasn’t summoning her ruby slippers and clicking them together like mad was that she trusted her best friend. It helped that said friend was an overpowered monster, but what made the difference was the woman behind the dragon.

Brandy desperately wished she knew what was coming next.

She glanced around the group gathered on the dragon’s head. Every one of them wore somber, dour faces, even the queen and the [Retainers]. Brandy briefly wondered if having the [White Witch] and three monstrous maids would tip the scales in their favor, but even if they did, it would be a pyrrhic victory at best. And they all knew it, too.

Jessica’s normally snarky grin had vanished; Alastair hadn’t stopped reciting psalms since they took off. Ellesea was prepping her staff, casting motes of light as target practice, while Y’cennia looked like she wanted to hide under a nice, dark bed. But that’s what all cats did, didn’t they?

God, she was going to miss these people.

Why couldn’t she have found her way to this amazing place through peaceful means? Why did it have to come at the expense of her real life?

Why did it have to be her?

So many questions, none of them answered…especially from the goddess in the necklace. Celestara had been awfully quiet the moment Melia touched down outside of the casino. No rants about how her toga was ill-fitting or how if she didn’t carefully watch her hair, it made her look like a floozy. No demands for avocado toast. Recently, she’d been subtly hinting about everything bagels, but Brandy learned her lesson and wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

Not for another year at least.

A year that they didn’t have.

Would things have been different if she’d gotten Melia to bake some bagels? She had unlimited herbs and spices, didn’t she? Technically, there was still time!

…who was she kidding? No there wasn’t.

Far below them, the world went from golden desert sands to burnt, blistering reddish-pink, and now they were seeing with their own eyes the final cost of summoning gone wrong with the Withers. The ground wasn’t just ashen-grey or black; it was as if the planet's very life force had decayed. Nothing grew here except deadwood and bracken. No wonder the demons wanted the humans’ lands so badly. Such an aggressive, warlike species would surely grow tired of bartering for food, no matter how generously priced, when they could take it by force.

According to Moeldywn, that was only one worry. Once a new Demon King was crowned, it usually took some time for his reign to solidify, but it was faster than any human court. To a demon, strength mattered above all else, and weakness was a sin. The strong survived; the strong ruled. Nothing else was important.

From what little they knew, this new king was young, brash, hotheaded…and, of course, insanely powerful. He overthrew the last king, who was a character Brandy recognized from Ebonvale lore. A man who’d fought alongside the players to end existential threats like extra-planar demons, summonings gone wrong, power-hungry madmen bent on mortal ascension, and one or two old gods.

Now that was a resume if Brandy ever heard one.

Yes, age weakens people, but somebody who had to be in the high 1100s certainly wouldn’t go down without a fight…right?

She supposed it was almost time to find out.

Melia began circling a tiny dot of a palace like an overgrown crow. Melia’s whole body tilted to the side, but she didn’t want to dump her passengers, so they slowly traveled downward in wide, smooth arcs, descending on the wind. It didn’t take long for Brandy to hear warning trumpets and shouting from the city, signs of a gathering army to repel the beast. But even if they flung their biggest, pointiest sticks all the way up here, there was no chance it would pierce the softest of Melia’s scales.

​

Eventually, Melia touched down gracelessly in a large training ground in the middle of a palace, sending a shower of rocks cascading in the air. Brandy shared a look with Moeldywn and the whole party grimaced; nobody wanted to be the one to tell Melia she needed to work on her landings.

But then again…noticing some of the lesser soldiers scramble away from the sudden intruder, fearing for their lives, Melia’s entrance held a certain theatrical appeal. It screamed, I am a massive dragon and I don’t care what I’m landing on.

Which was true.

Melia’s wings flapped aimlessly as she tried to make them comfortable, but they also billowed several more soldiers out of the courtyard. Soon, the entire thing was empty, and Melia twisted her neck around, trying to get a good view.

“Demon King, come out!” She challenged. “Your time has come; be judged!”

Well, that put a point on it.

If anybody was wondering whether the massive bat that landed in the garden was hostile or not, well, now they had their answer.

The courtyard grew still; it was like the wind itself was afraid to blow. The few demons who mastered their resolve refused to flee, but neither did they engage. The world waited: it needed to see.

Slowly, from the depths of the palace, laughter rose. It was a harsh, sinister laugh, fitting for a man who sat upon a bloody throne. A shadow emerged at the entrance to the grounds, revealing a tall demon man with black goat horns gleaming in the afternoon sun, bringing his hands together at a sedate pace.

“Well done,” he clapped. “I was wondering who would answer the call. I must admit, I’m a bit surprised. You’re early; I was told to expect you much later. I would have had a better army here to greet you…[White Witch].”

“Demon,” Moeldywn said sternly, standing tall on the bridge of Melia’s brow. “You have me at a disadvantage; I prefer to know the name of the man I’m about to kill.”

The man paused, his eyes betraying his surprise, before he leaned back and laughed. A full, hearty laugh, uncaring for how vulnerable it made him.

“Very good!” He cheered. “I expect no less from a human queen!”

He let his laughter roll far longer than was appropriate…and shut it off abruptly, adopting a stern glare.

“Not that I expected much. Yes, your name is known to me, [White Witch], as told to me by my predecessor. But, seeing how he’s, ah, lost his head? I don’t know how much stock I put in idle warnings and meaningless threats.”

Brandy’s frown turned into a full grimace. She’d heard of cultures who put the heads of their enemies on a pike out in the open for all to see…she could imagine something like that going on here, too. It probably helped cement the new king’s rule, being able to see the disembodied head of the previous ruler hanging from a gate.

Or it might ensure panic, pandemonium, and an age of unrest. But what did Brandy know?

“As for my name,” the demon continued, “What does it matter? You’ll soon be dead, and I’d have wasted my words. But let it not be said that I’m an ungracious host! You stand– or perhaps it should be better said that you sit atop your tamed beast –before Darius Blight! Demon King!”

“You presume me to be tamed?” Melia growled, and for the first time, Darius’ smile faltered. “Foolish mortal.”

“What unholy bargain have you struck, [Witch]?” Darius demanded, taking a step back. “The dragons are neutral. That way they remain, as decreed by their lord, lest they drive the entire continent to ruin.”

Hmm. Brandy recalled something in the lore about draconic accords, but what the man said struck a chord with her.

“You speak of bargains,” Brandy called, stepping up next to Moeldywn. “But what of your own? You cannot deceive me, Blight! I see through your charade!”

She held up her necklace, and Celestara’s crystal glowed with the intensity of the sun. The white radiance was so piercing she had to close her eyes, and she quickly hid it back down the neck of her robes. No one else was spared; everyone, even the Demon King, blinked away stars.

He did, however, recover quickly.

As he stared up at her, Brandy felt the telltale signs of [Inspect] wash over her. He blinked, regained his cocky composure, and smiled.

“Oh, the [Saint]! How rich! [Witch], it seems you’ve assembled a proper party! Well then, don’t leave us in suspense. Do you have a [Hero]? Or a [Brave]? Perhaps a [Druid] or two? Come now, let us see!”

Brandy could see the [Identification] magic coalescing around the rest of the party too, so it was no use trying to hide. The others must have felt it, because they all joined Brandy at the front. Alastair, bless him, spoke first.

“I am Alastair Trevain,” he said solemnly. “[Paladin of Light]. I stand with the [Saint]. My life is her shield!”

Brandy closed her eyes, wishing the boy could be a little less serious. But moments like these breed martyrs…which Brandy was desperately hoping to avoid.

Beside him, Jessica was far less reverent.

“Yeah, like hell am I giving my name to a psychopath. Get bent!”

But then again, maybe she shouldn’t antagonize the guy either?

“Charming!” Darius laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “A [Paladin], a [Hunter], an [Archanist], a [Mixologist], and a [Witch]. Oooh, stop me if you’ve heard this one, but I believe that’s the start of a good joke. They all walk into a bar…and ask for death!”

Without warning, Darius flung up his hand, palm out, and conjured up a swirling mass of shadow. Brandy’s eyes went wide; she could see the power growing rapidly by the second, increasing exponentially. Before she could move, before she could dive to the side or throw herself to the ground, he released the spell.

A swirling vortex the size of a small van shot toward them, intent on eradication.

Brandy did the only thing she could think of.

She closed her eyes.

And wished to wake up from the dream.

…

The attack didn’t hit.

Melia had leaned forward…and swallowed it.

Looking down, Brandy could see through the smoking haze of the spells’ aftereffects as it fizzled between Melia’s jaws that Darius was stunned. That certainly wasn’t his strongest attack, but he clearly intended it to obliterate a handful of low-rank adventurers. Brandy could feel the ire wafting off of Melia like a smoldering ember waiting to combust.

“You are outclassed,” Melia seethed. “As a [Mage], your skill is pitiful. And yet, I find it in myself that I’d rather not eat you. Tell me, Darius; what is your real goal? Why has your god imprisoned Celestara? What bargain have you made with Letharion?”

The demon’s eyes went wide, and he laughed again. But this time it wasn’t the mocking sort of laugh of someone looking down on ants. Instead, it was the laugh of a man drunk on power, tasting the divine.

“So you know, do you? I’m surprised! Though he did say there was a chance the [Saint] would see through it. Behold, my true might!”

Darion ripped off his shirt…and began to transform. Where before he had mostly looked like a muscular human man with an above-average physique, his body began to stretch and contort. His legs bulged, thickening to the point of tree trunks, muscles swelling and tearing through his pants. They quickly became covered in thick, black fur, but they didn’t grow any longer. His torso, meanwhile, swelled in size. It quickly doubled, then tripled, leaving a hulking parody of a man with bulging arms and shoulders that swallowed his neck. Giant, batlike wings sprouted from his back…and Brandy had to admit, she regretted likening Melia in the same way.

“Kneel, mortals, before your new god!”

His voice had deepened, not nearly to the degree Melia’s did in her true form, but it came out gurgly, coarse, and sounded like boiled tar given life.

Melia was…unmoved.

“Little godlet,” she sneered. “Such rewards seldom come without a price. The bargain, demon, what was it?”

“What else?” Darius gurgled. “What else does the god of war cherish? Fighting! Bloody fighting! And on the pinnacle of that battlefield, I stand!”

Melia’s eyes narrowed into slits so thin that the group standing on her head had to shift with the movement of her brow.

“I will ask you once, and only once, demon,” she growled. “Is there no chance for peace? Will you leave the human kingdom alone?”

“Meliastraza?” Moeldywn gasped beside her, but Brandy’s heart swelled with pride. Leave it to Melia to be the best of them. Even if things were about to devolve into fighting, at least she tried.

“Impossible,” Darius instantly denied. “There can be no peace.”

What happened next was nearly too fast for Brandy to observe. She expected more banter, a little back and forth, perhaps some more grandstanding as the demon played with his food. In the back of her mind, a very quiet, tiny part of her also expected them to be given the chance to prepare, as if they really were sitting in front of a boss’ arena before they engaged.

They were not.

But to Brandy’s surprise…Melia struck first.

She crouched low and swiped her claw at the man, intent on crushing him with a decisive blow. But Darius was fast, and he saw it coming. His eyes narrowed as he frowned and leaped backward, narrowly avoiding the eviscerating claws.

And yet, Melia was faster than fast.

She recovered instantly, and before her arm finished its swing, she lunged forward and chomped.

Brandy heard a sickening crunch…and then a thump as something hit the ground and slid into a wall.

She stared, dumbfounded, at half a demon, slumped in a sitting position…missing the legs. The torso heaved heavily as life surged out of him, his arms falling limp, not knowing what to do.

“You taste revolting,” Melia spat, working her jaw to rid her mouth of the foul stench.

“I don’t understand,” Darius said coarsely, utterly betrayed. “We had a contract! Arrgh!!!”

Darius’ head slumped forward…but instead of dying, his whole body began to convulse. The light of life left his eyes briefly, before flaring with unholy fire. His body calmed, and an entirely different voice spoke through his mouth.

“Next time, get it in writing!”

The new voice was smooth, suave, and sounded like it enjoyed a good glass of bourbon or gin. Somehow, Melia managed to narrow her eyes even further, lowering her head to inspect the corpse.

“Letharion?” She accused, as only an insanely overpowered dragon could address a god.

“We meet at last, [Destroyer],” the god of war said. “Though it was not the first time our paths have crossed, nor will it be the last.”

“You were responsible for sealing Celestara?” Melia demanded. “Why?”

“Why not?” Letharion mused. “It killed two birds with one stone! It gave me strength and it amused Balance; and really, what more could one ever ask for except the favor of the creator?”

“How does that serve your purpose?” Melia challenged. “How does that give you strength? Your champion is dead; you’ve lost!”

“This corpse?” Lehtarion laughed. “One of many! Give it time! I’ll have another within the decade. And maybe by then, your [Saint] will be ready to complete her quest.”

“What?!” Melia bellowed. “What do you mean?! It’s done! We’ve done it! The Demon King is dead!”

“Always…check…the…fine…print…,” Letharion said with a twisted smile…and the body breathed its last.

“Free her!” Melia screamed. “We played your game, now let her go! Answer me!!”

The body remained silent.

Melia began to tremble. Thanks to some very quick thinking on Moeldywn’s part, the party was quickly trapped inside a protective bubble, floating their way to the ground. Just in the nick of time, as Melia reared back and howled her rage into the sky. Black flames licked at her lips and everything they touched vanished. Fortunately, it was only a few birds and a passing cloud, but…Brandy, along with the rest of the team, was shaken.

Melia sat with her head pointed at the sky for several moments. The party didn’t want to make a move, not even to breathe.

Eventually, she calmed down, and in doing so, turned back into a gnome.

Her eyes were swollen and red, as if she’d just spent an hour crying, but she tried her best to force a smile on her face.

“The necklace,” she said, hiccuping. “Can we see it?”

Brandy pulled it out. No change. She could feel the goddess trapped within…but it was no closer to breaking open. The prison held firm.

“She’s still there,” Brandy confirmed with a sigh. She was met with a round of groans.

“That bastard,” Melia said through clenched teeth. “That arrogant, unbelievable waste of a godling…!”

Her horns and tail manifested, but she caught herself before she could go full [Destroyer]. Melia wiped at her eyes and took on a calculating look.

“Brandy,” she said, her voice unnaturally calm. “What exactly does your quest say?”

“Eh?” Brandy paused. “Let’s see…[Quest: Defeat the Dark Lord].”

“That’s it?” Melia asked. “Dark Lord? Not Demon King?”

“Ah,” Brandy said, coming to a horrible realization, one not shared by this world’s inhabitants.

“Same thing, isn’t it?” Jessica asked. Poor, sweet Jessica. Unfettered by the shackles of edgy middle school syndrome.

“No, it isn’t,” Brandy said. “One’s the ruler of a race of people. The other….”

Was generally considered the most powerful being in existence. Sometimes it was a boss hidden behind a boss; the one, true evil pulling all the strings and threatening to take over the world.

But why would that matter here? In a world completely detached from Earth’s clichés?

Except…it wasn’t, was it? This world’s history was full of tropes and nods to popular fiction over the ages. For what purpose? To be entertained? That’s what Letharion made it sound like when he mentioned Balance. Brandy didn’t know anything about Ebonvale's upper pantheon, other than that Balance was at the top.

“The other?” Alastair pressed. “What does that mean for us?”

“It means nothing,” Melia said. She smiled brightly, but in all the ways that screamed wrong! to Brandy. But before the alarm bells could stop ringing in her brain, Melia acted.

“Say, Lethia? Can you, Lee, and Meni take the group back home? I…just have a few more questions for Brandy and Melody, and they’ll be right behind.”

Brandy clocked how Melia said they, not we, but she was already opening a portal back to Horizon. The [Retainers] looked at her worriedly, most likely feeling exactly what Brandy felt, but they obeyed. Jessica, Al, Y’cennia, and Ellesea all gave Melia a long, speculative look before stepping through the portal.

Melia waved her hand…and anchored the portal to the leyline. It wasn’t going anywhere.

“Meliastraza,” Moeldywn began, her eyes wide and filled with doubt. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, Melody,” Melia said, her voice filled with genuine hurt. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“For what? What’s going on?”

“You see,” Melia explained, her huge eyes filling with tears, “There’s something Brandy and I know that you might not. You heard what Letharion said at the end, right?”

“Eh?” The queen muttered. “About reading the fine print? I don’t understand.”

“Well, the difference between the Demon King and the Dark Lord,” Melia explained, using her hands to wipe the fat globs of tears streaking down her cheeks, “Is that one is a really strong demon. The other…is the strongest person on the planet.”

“But…that would be you, would it not?” Moeldywn gave a halfhearted chuckle, thinking it was a joke.

“Yeah,” Melia gave a soft laugh. “It is.”

“But you’re not a Dark Lord,” Moeldywn scoffed, and at that moment, Brandy wanted to hug the old princess.

“Depends on who you ask,” Melia answered with a wry grin. “You know that dungeon that opened because of me? I’m pretty sure when you get to the end and fight me, you’re gonna find out most people think I am.”

“Wait, you’re the last boss?!” Moeldywn cried. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“Guess it slipped my mind,” Melia shrugged helplessly. She turned to Brandy again, who was rigid as a steel pole.

“You wanna go home, right?” Melia asked.

Brandy couldn’t move.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Brandy couldn’t make a noise.

“It’s time to go. I need to let go.”

It was happening all over again!

“Brandy, I love you. You’re the sister I never had. You’re family to me, just like Mom, Dad, or little Mattie. I don’t think you could ever know how much it means to me, seeing you again, and I hope you know I’ll cherish it for as long as I live.”

Don’t. Don’t say it. Don’t do it!

“Which,” she gave a very deprecating laugh, “Isn’t going to be much longer.”

She pulled out a dagger, something a [Rogue] would use. It was as long as her arm, wicked-looking, sharp enough to cut on contact, and dripping with venom.

“Brandy,” Melia said. “Live well. Be happy. Goodbye.”

Melia took the dagger…and drove it straight through her heart.