Chapter 65: Pentademonica

Chapter 65: Pentademonica In the middle of Spinebride Forest, the air, usually thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, was instead heavy with a sickly-sweet demonic miasma. At its heart, a gargantuan stone pillar, stained crimson with ancient rituals, rose from the ground. It was bound by thick, corroded chains that seemed to writhe with a life of their own, all converging on a demonic sword pulsating with malevolent energy at the very top. The sword’s hilt hummed with a low thrum that vibrated through the very ground, a constant, low-frequency hum that unnerved even the battle-hardened orcs. A line of two hundred beastkin prisoners, their faces gaunt and their bodies wracked with a berserker’s madness, were shackled together. Males, females, young, and old alike were all reduced to the same glowing-eyed, twitching state, their instincts replacing their civility. Their claws scraped against the ground, and low, guttural growls escaped their throats. Surrounding them were the orcs, their own red-veined bodies and glowing eyes a testament to the power of the very pearls they were trading for. At the front of the convoy, a single hooded orc with a staff walked towards five figures cloaked in crimson robes. Chief Minur stopped and bowed his head slightly. "I have fulfilled my end of the bargain," he announced. The figure in the middle, her voice a high-pitched, almost unsettlingly sweet whisper, hummed with satisfaction and gave a slow, deliberate nod. A hooded figure beside her handed a purple box to the middle one, who then passed it to Minur. "Twenty demonic pearls for 200 prisoners, as per our agreement," she stated, her words dripping with a condescending politeness. Chief Minur, however, wasn’t satisfied. He took the box, the weight of it feeling inadequate, and scoffed. "This isn’t enough. Forty pearls. I lost more men than I can receive and my warriors are reaching their limits. We raided three villages for this haul, and the alliance is closer to our secret routes than ever." "I understand your concerns, but currently, we are short on materials," the middle one replied, her tone not changing. "The cost of our research is high." The figure on the far end spoke up. "As per the soul-bound contract, we are not allowed to hide, nor we can give any demonic pearls to you than necessary. We, the Pentademonica, are only interested in the research of demonic energy. We will give you old iterations of demonic pearls, but currently we have limited stocks of demonic pearls." Another figure then added, "But know that, your efforts are not in vain. We have been working on a new class of demonic pearl that will stabilize its energy without relying on the demonic field of the Spinebride Forest. This is a game-changer for your people, Chief Minur. Imagine what your army could achieve with a stable demonic supply." The middle one spoke again, her gaze sweeping over the tormented beastkin before her. "This new class of demonic pearl," she explained, "will allow your army to sustain its effects for longer periods, without the rapid decay of the pearl’s effects and control that plagues the current stock. The demonic energy will be stabilized, no longer relying on the ambient field of the forest. Thus, we hope you understand that our research demands a significant increase in raw material." Chief Minur smiled, a predatory glint in his eye. He was a tactician as much as a warrior. "Now, I understand. Your transparency has gained my respect. We will finally have a goal in mind, but I will need to test this new demonic pearl of yours." "Not yet, Chief," the middle one said. "We will notify you as soon as the first prototype is available. It’s a delicate process, and we require perfect conditions. Know that our partnership, will eventually gain fruits we can harvest." Chief Minur’s smirk widened, revealing a jagged tusk. "Fine. Then a partner should be privy to all information. I believe it’s only fair for me to access your research notes." The five crimson figures grew visibly rigid, a silent wave of pressure radiating from them. The unspoken threat in Minur’s words was a challenge to their dominance. But they could not allow their relationship to break, not when it’s already fragile enough. Not for now at least. The hooded figure next to the leader leaned in, whispering urgently, "My lady, we can give them our old research data. We can leave out any crucial information. This way we can make them believe they are gaining an advantage while we use them long enough to perfect the first iteration of the new generation demonic pearls." The middle figure, after a moment’s thought, smiled and nodded. "Chief, we can do that. However, we, the Pentademonica, have a condition: you will need to capture a live undead skeleton of us." Minur’s confidence faltered, a flicker of genuine surprise on his face. "I’m sure you know that an undead crypt is extremely rare to come by, especially a live one. Also, why do you need one for?" he demanded, his hand tightening around his staff. "It is a crucial component," she responded, her voice returning to its saccharine tone. "Our theory is that undead energy, being a form of stable, negative mana, can be a perfect counter-agent to the volatile, chaotic energy of the demonic pearls. By integrating a sample, we believe we can permanently prolong the pearl’s effects, creating a far more potent and reliable version." "Now, where do I find one?" Minur demanded, the question carrying a new, urgent weight. The middle figure’s smile widened. "That is not a problem at all, Chief Minur. We can provide you with the exact location of a recently awakened undead crypt." As the talks finished, more hooded figures emerged from the forest. The orcs dispersed, watching as the new arrivals of cultists began to chant in unison. The 200 berserked beastkins shook violently, their limbs twisting and contorting. Their eyes glowed white as ethereal energy orbs floated from their mouths. Meanwhile, a young female cultist, her face hidden in shadow, watched the spectacle. Fools, she thought. They are nothing but beasts of burden, and these souls, fuel our true power. She looked at the leader and saw the same cold, calculating resolve in her posture. One of the robed figures handed a small chest to the leader, who took it just as the chanting grew louder. The orbs above the beastkins’ corpses gathered and flew into the chest, which the leader promptly closed. "Now that 200 souls are secured, let’s move before the alliance soldiers spots us," the middle figure said, and the others nodded, disappearing into the woods. The orcs also began to move, with Chief Minur walking away in the opposite direction. An orc with a huge axe named Korome fell into step beside him. "Chief, are you gonna let those scums get away with all the pearls? We could have taken them, you know." Chief Minur smirked. "For now, Korome. They use us, we use them. But next time, we will gain more from this partnership of ours. In time, we will be able make our own demonic pearls. We can no longer rely on their schemey contracts that binds us to follow their orders." Minur then handed a scroll to Korome. "For now, I want you and your men to capture a live skeleton." Korome took the scroll, confused. "What’s this, Chief?" "This is the map to the undead crypt they told us about. However, you may not need it if you remember where the old chiefs are buried. While you’re there, find the tombs of the old chieftains. There’s a clan artifact there, and I want you to find it for me. If it’s not there, the brothers might have it. But for now, prioritize their orders. As soon as the Pentademonica have succeeded, we will make our move. And Korome, make sure no one follows you. This is a secret mission." "Yes, Chief," Korome said, a grim and determined look on his face. Meanwhile, in the dungeon’s core room, Karl stood on a stone pedestal, a marvel of magical engineering at his feet. A network of shimmering Arcstones, connected by intricate transparent circuit glass, pulsed with a soft blue light. The skeleton researchers scurried around it, making minor adjustments to the console’s makeshift buttons and levers, each one meticulously labeled with arcane symbols. Karl watched with a satisfied smirk, the hum of the mana-circuits a symphony to his undead ears. Simon, the young orc who had sought asylum, stood beside him, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Mr. Karl, what’s this?" he asked, his voice filled with childlike wonder. Karl turned, a friendly warmth in his empty eye sockets. "That, dear Simon, is a console, or at least, a similar one," he explained patiently. "Kon-sol?" Simon repeated, struggling with the alien word. "Never mind," Karl chuckled, waving a skeletal hand dismissively. "Think of it as a master controller for all the elemental stones active in the dungeon. It connects directly from the Dungeon Core to these Arcstones, which transfer mana to the Arcstones on each floor. Which then distributes mana to every elemental stone in the dungeon, powering the entire operation." "Woooahhh! That’s amazing!" Simon exclaimed, his green skin flushing with excitement. "I didn’t know you could do that! It’s so much more efficient than the ones I’ve seen." Karl’s smile widened as he gazed at the glowing console. "You’ve yet to see what’s coming, Simon." His mind raced with possibilities, envisioning a modern, magically-powered world: mana-powered factories, automated assembly lines, and a logistics network of undead-driven trucks. "I’m going to bring the future to this world." "I will look forward to it, Mr. Karl," Simon said, a sense of hope in his voice. Just then, Rook approached, his movements silent and respectful. He bowed low, a perfect 90-degree angle. "My lord, there’s trouble at the gate," he announced calmly. "It’s an orc." Karl’s good mood instantly soured. "What? This early?" he said, a note of worry in his voice. This wasn’t part of his plan. His dungeon was still in its infancy, and he was not yet fully prepared for outside threats. Simon’s excitement evaporated, replaced by a look of dawning horror. "Mr. Karl, I-I believe it’s my brother," he stammered sheepishly. "The one I told you about..." "I thought you already reminded your brother about your situation?," Karl said, his voice flat with slight disappointment. "I-I kinda forgot about it," Simon mumbled, looking at the floor. Karl sighed, a long, dry rustle of air. "Let’s go. We’ll meet your brother before he becomes a bigger problem." He gestured for Simon to follow him.