Chapter 32

Chapter 32

His searching had resulted in failure. He’d escaped the swarm but had then been chased again three times after that. The calm he’d initially experienced when first presenting here in the hellscape dungeon was now replaced with fight-or-flight situations every couple hours. First he’d run into a pack of red-skinned, fire-flinging imps; he’d he managed to kill three before getting out of dodge—and he picked up a level while doing it. Then he took a dive in the river of blood to get away from a pack of hell bears, which were essentially flaming grizzlies twice Riven’s size. Then he ended up running into patches of other patrolling undead similar to the ghoul he’d killed, although they were all scrawnier and less misshapen than the one he’d encountered in the ballroom. He’d picked up yet another level there as well, after having plastered the floors and walls with ghoul guts numerous times over. If someone were to have asked him, he’d say he was getting pretty good at killing things by now. He’d stuck most of his stat points into Intelligence, some into Willpower, and a few points into Sturdiness to keep himself alive, so he was feeling pretty good about himself.

[Riven Thane’s Status Page:

Worry about Athela, Jose, and his little sister, Allie, kept him going at a fast pace, though. He had to find Athela to make sure she didn’t die a permanent death, and he had to believe Jose would keep Allie safe until he finished the tutorial. These thoughts continued to haunt him little by little until he’d ended up passing out from exhaustion while looking for the statue his quest spoke of.

But that had been hours ago, and this was now.

[Arise.]

His mind flashed with Athela’s image, and an impulse rushed through his body, sending him into a spasming and uncontrolled fit while he remained asleep on the floor. Possibilities and potential events clashed with one another in a battle of fate within his soul structure, reorienting his soul pillars and even altering the course of his Gluttony core for a few moments before it resumed its normal cyclic rotation. Images of his bonded minion in a cage, of her death at the hands of some obscured enormous monstrosity, and then of her escape with her small body in his arms all plastered themselves against his semiconscious mind. They presented themselves as conflicting scenarios, directly opposing one another before evaporating with a single remnant feeling being left in their wake.

He needed to get the fuck up.

Then, lastly, there was his Blood Weaver minion.

Athela and the man were opposite from each other in the same cage; the man was obviously more afraid of her than she was of him, but the spider, for whatever reason, was still in that cage with him and had three of her legs missing with green ichor leaking out of fresh wounds. She was battered and bruised, shaking and curled up in the corner in an obvious state of pain and fear. There was also a long gash across her thorax...but she was definitely alive.

Riven’s heart melted at seeing Athela like that, wanting to scream out and tell her he was here to help, and he had to quickly suppress the urge to sprint out there toward her.

He took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and thought hard about how he was going to approach this. All of them were utterly terrified, and the blonde woman was outright sobbing as she shook and wrapped her arms around her shoulders while in a cage of her own—secluded from the other prisoners.

“Please! My father will pay you if you let me go! He’ll send you more sacrifices! I promise!” She was desperately pleading with the robed creatures, who simply ignored her and continued to speak in hushed tones as the larger ate nearby. “PLEASE! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!”

[Lurker Demon, Level 45]

[Jabob Demon Cultist, Level 14]

[Jabob Demon, Level 9]

[Jabob Demon, Level 11]

[Human Hunter, Level 2]

[Human Priestess, Level 4]

[Athela, Blood Weaver Demon, Level 5]

Demon cultists? Really?! Why were there so many goddamned cultists in this new multiverse?!

Riven gritted his teeth, nerves climbing high as his eyes latched onto his minion again. She’d obviously gotten into a few scuffles since their time apart and had plainly failed to escape this lot. He tried to think of what to do, but all he could think of in that moment—in that scrambled state of mind—was to harshly whisper to himself:

“You’ve gotta be fist fucking me!”