The Author's Viewpoint-Chapter 135 - And Then There Were Four

So, in a blink, Tave dropped the Scum-Brew’s face and brought back Skarn’s face. His expression twisted into a smug, angry grin as he faced the demon.

"Ah crap, you found me. Now should we drink our asses off and celebrate this damn night?"

Tave didn’t have much of a choice. It was reckless, stupid even. But right now, it was his only shot. He had to steer this into something he could control, anything to lower the threat.

The demon blinked, drunk and barely holding onto what was left of his tiny brain.

"Oh... you really are Skarn! Hahaha!" he said, completely missing the fact that Tave had just shifted his face right in front of him.

Tave shoved a mug into his hand. "Shut up. Now we drink. And drink deep. There’s more brew here than your pathetic body can handle. You don’t wanna waste this, do you?"

They dropped into the nearest chairs. The demon howled with laughter.

"This stuff’s amazing! And you, damn, you actually survived! Why the fuck were you hiding, dumbass? Haha! Now tell me. How’d you live? Weren’t the rest of you slaughtered by those rat-faced bastards?"

Tave took a fake swig from his mug, forcing a bitter smirk. "You seriously think I’m dumb enough to die at the hands of those worthless pests? Please."

They both laughed, hard and loud, like true demons enjoying their sick idea of fun.

Tave kept pushing more drinks his way, mug after mug, filling and refilling, not letting the demon take a break. He grabbed the demon’s head and tilted it back, pouring more straight down his throat.

"You weak bastard. This is all it takes for you to give up? You’re that pathetic? You’re nothing. Worthless."

The demon in front of Tave was barely hanging on. His head kept dipping toward the table, and though he tried to lift it, his arms were shaking.

"Our other friends... they’re looking for you," he mumbled with a sloppy, tired grin. "Let’s go out and celebrate with them, Skarn. I really thought you were dead. Forget the debt for now, I can live with that... but we need to talk with the others."

His voice suddenly caught in his throat. He gagged, his neck tightening as if something inside was choking him.

"This brew... it’s delicious and brutal... like I’m dying. It’s perfect."

Tave gave a thin smile, gently leaning the demon’s body back as he sagged in the chair, barely conscious.

"Yes. I mixed it with Soul Fire. Now the flame’s eating your organs from the inside. You’re not just dying. You’re about to die for real."

The demon blinked, confused, then started laughing again, weak and raspy.

"This is... amazing. What a drink... I love it."

His words stopped.

Something sharp sank clean into his chest, smooth and deep.

Tave shoved the blade in hard, and the Soul Fire surged through the wound. The thick blood sizzled and lit up, burning from the inside as the demon stared down, dazed.

"What... was that? A blade? You stabbed me?" he muttered, stunned. "But it doesn’t even hurt... wait... are you killing me? But we were still drinking..."

His voice faded.

And that was it. The demon slumped forward. Dead.

Tave moved fast, dragging the body and hauling it over to the same storage shelf where Scum-Brew’s corpse was already tucked away. He propped them up side by side, covered them with a heavy cloth, and shut the cabinet door.

If only I could just keep doing this. But there were still hundreds of demons outside.

Then. Wait.

He reopened the cabinet door, and searched the second demon’s belongings. Scum-Brew had nothing useful, just junk, cheap supplies, and scraps.

The demon’s storage ring was shattered.

No blade. Nothing he could use.

Alright, enough wasting time. Tave had things to do, starting with freeing Fang and the others.

He moved quickly toward the door. Until the door in front of him suddenly creaked open.

Another demon stepped in.

Tave froze for a second, heart skipping.

Wait, whose face am I wearing now?

Right. Skarn’s.

"Oh, so you really are alive, Skarn?" the demon said, raising a brow. "I thought those idiots were just drunk-talking again. Man, I figured you got eaten by corpse-feeders."

Tave didn’t flinch. He grabbed the demon by the arm, yanked him inside, and kicked the door shut behind them.

"Hahaha, you caught me!" Tave barked, deepening his voice. "Yeah, I’m alive, and I’ve got the best brew stashed in here. Tons of it. Let’s drink it all before those greedy bastards outside do!"

Shit. More people finding out Skarn’s alive? This is getting out of hand.

He had to ditch Skarn’s face soon. Maybe switch to the last demon he killed... but that guy had two horns, and Tave still only had one. That would be a problem, single-horn demons were rare. Too easy to notice.

For now, he poured a full mug and shoved it into the newcomer’s hand.

The demon took a deep drink and sighed with satisfaction. "This is good. Real good. You’ve been partying in secret, huh? Come on, tell me, what the hell happened to you?"

Tave laughed, throwing in a low growl for effect.

"Ah, it’s a mess," he said, waving a hand like it barely mattered. "I got swallowed by this massive corpse-beast out near the black ridge. Thing had a whole graveyard in its stomach. I lit a fire inside it with my own blood, blew it open from the inside, then got spit out straight into a lava bog full of blind leeches. Crawled through that for a week while some acid rain tried to eat my skin. Ended up in the pit caves under this place, got chased by shadow worms, lost a toe, maybe two. I don’t even remember anymore. Took me forever to climb back up."

The demon stared, blinking slowly, suspicion creeping into his eyes.

"What? Don’t believe me?" Tave growled, leaning in. "You too dumb to wrap your little brain around it?"

That snapped the demon out of it. He burst into laughter, slamming a hand on the table, then coughed hard and leaned forward, bracing himself on his elbow.

"That’s insane... and this drink—damn..."

Then his voice cut off.

A cold blade slid clean through the back of his neck, bursting through the front. He jerked once, then collapsed face-first onto the table.

Tave stood behind him, blade still in hand, eyes cold.

"You party with Scum-Brew and your buddy," he muttered with a bitter smile. "I’ve got other things to do."

Tave dragged the newest corpse across the floor, adding it to the growing pile of bodies he’d already tucked away. "Let’s see what you’ve got..." he muttered, patting the demon down for anything useful.

That’s when the door creaked open. Again.

Tave spun, cursed under his breath. No time to think, he turned, sprinted across the room, and greeted the next demon who was already stepping in.

"Hei! Yes, I’m Skarn! Let’s drink! A lot!" Tave said, grabbing a mug and shoving it toward the intruder.

"Wait, I’m looking for Scum-Brew," the demon replied, confused.

But Tave didn’t let him say more. He kicked the door shut again and locked it tight.

A little while later... The cabinet holding ingredients now held four demon corpses, lined up like some awful trophy shelf. It was practically bursting.

Tave wiped sweat off his brow, breathing hard.

Please... no more demons.

Tave didn’t waste another second. He rifled through the demons’ bodies, grabbing anything that looked remotely useful. Time was bleeding out fast, and he had to disappear before another one of these drunk bastards came barging in.

But one problem remained, none of the four dead demons had a single horn.

Damn it. He couldn’t use their faces. Not without raising questions.

As he turned to move, his eyes caught the reflection in a nearby mirror.

He froze.

A human face stared back. His own face!

What the.

Panic shot through him. He checked his mask, still there. Still intact.

Then why...?

He focused, sending a mental command to shift his face back to Skarn. Nothing happened.

He tried Scum-Brew. This time, slowly, he watched as his reflection shifted. His features morph back into the familiar face of the brew-maker.

Wait... there’s a limit?

Was it time-based? Or tied to the number of kills? Or maybe... tied to something else entirely?

Before he could think it through, a wave of weakness crashed over him. His knees buckled, and he dropped, barely catching himself on the floor.

His heart thundered, louder and faster, like it was going to rip through his chest.

What is this...?

Am I... leveling up?