Elysium's Multiverse

Chapter 47

Chapter 47

She gave him a chittering nudge while walking by and began to stride ahead with Azmoth in tow. “Nicely done. As expected of my warlock slave!”

Riven snorted and downed another vial of Sinner’s Blood, replenishing his mana to full and wiping the red liquid from his lips on his sleeve. “Warlock slave?! Hold on here…”

“Royal jester, warlock slave, servant to the princess… All acceptable titles for a plebian such as yourself,” Athela stated with a dismissive wave of her spider paw while continuing down the hallway and bypassing larger chambers on her left that were illuminated with dull red light. “Whichever suits you best, little man. Just let me know and it shall be so!”

“Little man?! I’m three times your size, you little runt!”

“PLEBIAN! I’VE STOMPED BABIES STURDIER THAN YOU!”

Riven merely rolled his eyes. They continued their trek toward the river of blood for their daily meal, with Riven muttering to himself about how arachnids were stupid and Athela doing that strange thorax-bobbing swagger-walk she did whenever she won an argument or a battle.

The three of them had been doing very well in choosing their battles over the course of their time here. Low-level monsters were eagerly picked off in order to grind levels and increase their stats, while higher-level monsters or large groups of them were generally avoided. The exception was situations like this, where they were able to funnel larger groups of low-level monsters into a tight space with Azmoth as the front line if they needed him to be. It was incredibly likely Azmoth could have handled all these low-level ghouls by himself without much hassle if needed—or that Riven could kill multiple enemies with a single strike of his Blood Lance spell if they were lined up correctly.

At the very least, they were all improving at a steady rate. Quite a fast one at that, if Riven had to guess. According to Athela, they were all likely to get level-assigned abilities soon. Riven had been lucky enough to find ways to acquire Blessing of the Crow and Blood Lance, but that’d been external and not an internal source of acquisition. It was all random as to when someone would get a new ability, yes, but the longer one went on without getting one, the more likely they were to get one the next time they leveled up.

Or, at the very least, they’d get a trait or upgrade or some sort. Athela had to correct herself and explain that one to Riven thoroughly, but long story short, a level up might actually give other types of bonuses instead of spells or abilities. Better classes and longer periods of time between skill gains or upgrades often presented better options, but it wasn’t an absolute. Even then it was still random to a great extent.

On the way through the ruins, Riven picked up an old bronze coin he saw lying around and pocketed it with a smile, but otherwise he stepped over the corpses and chuckled at Azmoth when the four-armed demon dragged one of the corpses along to eat as he went. The crunching of bone, snapping of ligaments, and shredding of flesh that had once made Riven sick to hear…now it was welcome. It meant Azmoth was in a good mood, and he was really beginning to like the big guy.

“Hey, Azmoth—” Riven began with a genuine smile, skipping ahead to walk alongside Athela as they turned the corner and continued down their regular path through the dark, ruined building toward the river of blood. “I want to say thanks. Thanks for saving my life the day we met, and thanks for cooking all our meals. Roasted harpy isn’t all that bad.”

“A little like chicken!” Athela chimed in happily.

“You’ve never been out of the nether realms prior to becoming my minion. Have you ever eaten chicken before? For real, though.”

“No…but I plan to!”

“Didn’t think so.”

Azmoth displayed his rows of glistening black teeth and smiled back Riven’s way, letting out a deep and hissing laugh that’d become characteristic of the lumbering demon over the couple weeks they’d known him. “Tee hee hee. Harpies big chickens, yes. You like chickens. Right, Athela?”

Both Riven and Athela stopped in their tracks, looked at each other, and then gawked back at Azmoth.

“Did you just talk?” Riven stated, bewildered. “Or is this my mind playing tricks on me?”

“I think he just talked,” Athela confirmed with a quick double nod. “Hurry, Azmoth, slap him to make sure he’s not hallucinating!” Athela jumped up and aggressively smacked Riven across the face again to bring him back to reality. “HURRY, AZMOTH, HURRY!”

Riven scowled down at the arachnid and roughly kicked the spider into a wall with his foot. “Do not slap me, Azmoth. I’d likely die.”

Athela bounced off the side of the hall, laughed, and glanced back over her shoulder as they passed by another window filtering crimson dungeon light into the narrow passage, and she gave Azmoth the widest, most genuine spider smile she could muster. “When we get out, I’ll show you what real chickens are like!”

“Yes, yes,” Azmoth stated, as if pondering the meaning of it. “Can you draw chicken for Azmoth? I want see.”

Athela leaped at the opportunity. “Of course I can! When we get back, I’ll draw you all the chickens!”

“Uh…” Riven shook his head and nudged Azmoth as they walked. “She doesn’t know what a chicken looks like, either, mark my words. She’ll draw you something more like a dinosaur.”

“What’s a dinosaur?” Azmoth asked in a deep rumbling voice.

Riven just grunted. “Never mind, but it’s good to hear you talking. I didn’t even know you could.”

Azmoth just chortled again, flames flickering in the back of his throat through rows of sharp black teeth. “Tee hee hee.”

Athela covered her mouth with her paw, hiding her arachnid smile as she scurried up along the side of the wall. “All righty, let’s get a move on! We’re almost to the river, and I want to be back before nightfall. All the scaries come out at night!”

Riven paused, shortening his step for a second as he thought about it with furrowed brows. “Actually, yeah. Most of the scariest creatures do come out at night.”

An hour later they exited the series of closely knit buildings through a pseudo-tunnel to a spot they liked to frequent for visiting the river. Looming archways and the spires of a cathedral to their left stood ominously, casting shadows over a bend in the blood river that snaked into a recess between two mountains of rubble before exiting back into the inner city again. Across the river were ancient stone aqueducts spanning the length of many miles, and underneath these dried-up aqueducts were some of the only fields of plants that the group had encountered since getting here. Instead of grass or green foliage, though, these plants were black…and grew about a foot in length while occasionally flowering a bright white. There were also a couple scattered black trees, each with translucent leaves that gave off a strange, illuminating mist whenever night fell.

It was at this recess within the mountains of rubble that their tunnel exited next to a large bridge, and as usual Athela sighed with desire at the flowers across the river of blood while sporting a pouty frown. “I really wish we could go pick some.”

“Uh-huh.” Riven snorted and put his hands on his hips to stretch, obviously not willing to take that chance. He gave the spider a sidelong look. “Ask yourself this, Athela: Why is there an untouched field of flowers across that river? Why in all the dungeon we’ve explored thus far does this one area seem pristine and beautiful? Why are there no monsters over there, trampling the plants? Why have we not even one time seen a creature venture that way in the weeks we’ve been coming here?”

He gave her a knowing look with a raised eyebrow underneath the hood of his fur-lined brown cloak. “It’s absolutely fishy, and I’m willing to bet that those plants are dangerous. What does a demonic spider want with flowers, anyways?”

She animatedly waved her front spider legs around in the air. “I’m a princess, Riven! I need pretty things!”

“Right.”

Athela glared at him, and with a humph she trotted toward the river’s edge to start filling up.