Barbarian's Adventure in a Fantasy World-Chapter 337: Total War (2)

The title of the Demon King echoed in Ketal’s chest and set it thrumming, not with fear or dread but with a bright and utterly human excitement.

The Demon King was the sovereign of Hell, master of every demonic thing, and the adversary of the gods. In fairy tales back on Earth, the title Demon King was always the final villain, the shadow that only appeared once every other candle had been snuffed. The tales of this world agreed. During the Divine–Demonic War, when the gods had finally gained the upper hand, the Demon King had stepped onto the field and shattered that advantage in a single appearance. Only after devastating losses and the deaths of many gods had he been sealed. The Demon King was a creature of a different order.

Now the demons were preparing for his descent. Yet, something about that did not sit cleanly.

“Can they really manage that in their current state?” Ketal asked Kalosia.

Hell had already paid dearly. They had sacrificed heavily to bring Necrobix down, and the ritual cost more than names and noise. Then Necrobix had died. It was hard to believe Hell still had margin to burn on the Demon King.

Kalosia answered from Shadranes’s throat, each word clear as a struck bell. “With sufficient offerings, it is not impossible. And Hell has offerings to give.”

“You mean the Demon Lords...,” Ketal said.

Abyss was blocking heaven’s voice. Caliste had been set to wait near the threshold and sever whatever came through. Materia, the Mother of All Demons, would be the one preparing the ritual. Ketal let out a low whistle.

“They mean to spend everything,” he said.

“If half of Hell is consumed to bring the Demon King down, they believe the war can still be overturned once the Demon King arrives,” Kalosia said. “They are not wrong. The Demon King has that kind of power. But the descent will take time. We must strike Hell now.”

Kalosia’s gaze darkened. “If the Demon King descends, the world will shake. Abyss keeps us from stepping in directly, but we can move through our faithful. We will help as much as we are able.”

“The Demon King,” Ketal repeated, tasting the words. The name pleased him. It must have shown, because Kalosia looked almost anxious.

“Promise us,” they said. “Truly. See this through, and when it is finished, we will take you to heaven or anywhere else you ask.” 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

“You do not need to worry so much. I do not lack for desire, but I have no intention of warping the world to satisfy it. ”Ketal replied, shaking his head with a smile. “Keep your promise when it is done. That is all I ask.”

“Do not doubt it,” Kalosia said. “Even if the Hall of the Gods complains, I will not retreat.”

“That is enough,” Ketal answered, laughing softly.

The news moved through the Mortal Realm like a controlled fire. With the line partially open, the gods began to reach their Saints and Saintesses. Faces turned pale, hands trembled, and the message still found its voice. The gods ordered them to go to Hell, and stop the descent of the Demon King.

Preparation for a full assault began at once. That part came quickly, because almost all the Mortal Realm’s strength already crowded the forests around the elven sacred ground. They had gathered there to shield the south from whatever Hell might attempt; now they would go where it could be stopped.

The Tower Master and Helia shared their scouting. Anything less than Advanced would struggle to stay alive in Hell’s air. Only those of Transcendent or higher could enter without immediately dying. Those people began to gather in earnest. Amid the press, Ketal spotted a familiar face and lifted his hand.

“Kain!”

Kain, the Swordmaster who had been Ketal’s first glimpse of a Transcendent, looked startled and then relieved.

“Ketal,” he said. They clasped wrists, and Kain studied him with a look that did not quite hide his astonishment.

“You are alive. How have you been?” Ketal asked him.

“As one gets along in times like these,” Kain replied. “Hunting where the wicked gather. You... look as if I am speaking to a different person than the one I remember.”

When Kain had last seen Ketal, they had been on the road to reclaim a holy land swallowed by demons. Even then, Ketal’s name had traveled farther than his steps, yet not everyone knew it. Now, that was no longer true. People passing by kept cutting their eyes toward him the way pilgrims glanced at a shrine. Admiration and a kind of fierce gratitude filled those looks.

Ketal was already in the same realm as a Champion now. There were not many mouths left in the world that had not spoken his name.

“We have come a long way,” Kain said.

“Do not worry,” Ketal replied. “You are still my teacher.”

“For mercy’s sake, do not say that where anyone can hear you,” Kain muttered, and Ketal laughed instead of promising.

After that, Ketal called an old ally.

“Fiego,” he said into the air.

The spirit’s voice arrived with a sigh. “It has been peaceful. Too peaceful. You did not summon me, which was bliss. I suppose that ends now.”

“Forgive me,” Ketal said cheerfully. “You could not contribute much these past months.”

Given the foes they had faced, a Legendary spirit was too small a knife. The Myst cost to summon would have been wasted. That had been true until they reached an accord with the Spirit God. With that help, Ketal could call spirits without paying anything personal.

“In that case,” Fiego said, its tone brightening despite itself, “call away. I would not miss a war in Hell.”

“I will trouble you more often,” Ketal said.

“No,” Fiego said at once, horrified. “Do not.”

The strength kept gathering. Elves stood with spears grown from living wood. Dwarves arrived in mail that turned the light into hard lines. Dragons circled high, and surviving vampires and fairies flowed into ranks that looked more like pageant than army until one saw their eyes. All the world’s living titans were here, or nearly all.

One great absence remained. The Tower Master’s hand clenched.

“The damn Emperor,” he said through his teeth.

“The Empire still will not move?” Ketal asked him.

“They are silent,” the Tower Master replied. “We have sent messengers and received nothing. I have gone myself and not reached the Emperor’s face.”

The demons had invaded the Mortal Realm and Necrobix had descended. Yet, the Empire had kept its doors closed. Now, with the Demon King’s name spoken aloud and even the gods choosing to cooperate, the Empire was still silent.

“You don’t think they’re favoring Hell, do you?” Ketal said.

“If they did, we would have felt their hand already,” the Tower Master said. “They are doing nothing, in the exact way that means they do not care who owns the world at the end.”

He rubbed his jawbone in a motion that would have been thoughtful in a living man and came out aggravated in a lich. “Whatever they want, we will not leave it alone when this is done.”

All the rest assembled. The count passed several hundred, and still they came. When the numbers settled and the air had the stillness of a held breath, the faithful knelt and lifted prayers. Their gods answered.

Light gathered until it sang, and a road opened like a seam of gold through the air. No one leaped at once. Even for the sake of the world, walking into Hell could not be done lightly. The Tower Master and Helia steadied themselves and set their faces.

However, one person did not need steadiness at all. Ketal smiled and stepped forward.

“Let’s go!” he cried.

The answer rose from a hundred throats and rolled like thunder. The Mortal Realm ran toward Hell.

***

They arrived in Hell, and the sky tried to kill them. Everything fell at once. A storm of bombardments closed the upper air, and demonic authorities screamed as they tore at the shape of the battlefield.

“Shield of Hephite,” Helia chanted as she lifted her hand.

The vault of the sky lit, and a shield unfolded overhead. Fire and stone broke upon it and slid away in dead light.

“This is a warmer welcome than last time,” Ketal said, whistling. When he, the Tower Master, and Helia had first descended, Hell had not shown a single face. Then, the trap had depended on surprise. Now, the gates opened onto punishment, and the meaning was unmistakable—this was war.

“Let’s move,” Helia said, voice level.

Dragons rose on hammers of air and spoke the Dragon Tongue, so that the sky sounded like metal struck with metal. Swordmasters ran forward and entered the press where blades were tongues and grammar was blood. Mages put their hands in the air and wrote in them until the letters burned.

Hell shook, and Ketal placed his foot and breathed. The ground bucked forward like a wave. Hundreds of charging creatures vanished beneath the soil and did not rise. Those watching could only stare.

“Wow!” someone said.

“All that from a single step!”

“I had heard the tales,” another answered, “but this is something else.”

During the march against Necrobix, Ketal had crossed continents and left witnesses behind him. Even so, for as many who had seen him, there were more who had not. Now, the very best looked at him as if they had met a fable with a hand out.

Ketal extended his fist. Pressure rolled out and swept the field. Five named demons vanished into torn pieces. The Tower Master appeared at his side as if he had unfolded from a fold in the light.

“Leave the riffraff to us,” the Tower Master said. “Save your strength for what comes.”

“I will,” Ketal said. “How do we hunt?”

“Find where they are bringing the King down and stop it. They will not attempt the ritual in the open. They will choose a place that can be perfectly protected, a fortress that can stand even if all the Mortal Realm points itself at its walls.”

“A Demon King’s castle,” Ketal said, teeth flashing.

The Tower Master nodded. “Find the castle. That is the task.”

The order ran outward, and the army broke into streams that cut through Hell like water finding every weakness in a bank. Demons slammed themselves against those streams. The fighting climbed from fierce to frantic, and still both sides held. After a hard hour, the Tower Master found Ketal again.

“We have it,” he said simply.

“Where?” Ketal asked him.

“Follow me.”

They ran. The farther they went, the stronger Hell’s answer became. However, it did not matter. They cut their way through.

At the end of that road, Ketal saw it. A castle made of night, enormous enough to break the horizon. Black walls, black towers, black light leaking from windows that should not have had room to hold it. Others who had fought their way free reached the plain before it and stopped at the same time.

“Listen,” Helia said, her breath caught.

They understood the moment they stood within its shadow. Inside those walls, demonic energy had thickened until it almost took form—a living mass calling to something higher and far beyond. Ketal did not need to ask what it summoned. The ritual was underway. The castle itself was singing for the Demon King.

“There are many,” the Tower Master murmured.

The walls had every weapon Hell could strap to stone, and demons stood in lines thick enough to turn a charge into slaughter if the wave broke wrong.

“That is why their resistance felt strangely thin,” the Tower Master added. “They were letting us come and spending only enough to slow the bold. Everything else is gathered here.”

The castle had to be cracked. The Tower Master turned to Ketal.

“We will open the way,” he said. “You take the gatekeeper.”

“Understood.”

The Mortal Realm used everything it had. The castle answered with everything Hell could put into a wall. Power tore the air into ragged sheets, then knotted it and tore it again. The noise was its own kind of weather.

Behind the exchange, Ketal walked. He did not hurry. He crossed the killing ground and came to the gate.

An old chair sat there, and a demon sat on the chair with a sword point-down in the soil, leaning as if he were resting. The demonic energy in him was a mere handful, the sort of trickle that would not earn a name. There was no reason to notice him at all, unless one understood that the strongest person on this field was not always the one who glowed.

“Hello again,” Ketal said.

“You returned sooner than I expected,” the demon replied.

“I told you,” Ketal said, smiling with honest pleasure. “Next time, we would do it properly. We would kill and be killed in truth.”

Caliste, the Demon of the Sword, wrapped his fingers around the hilt.