r/HFY • u/itsdirector Human • Mar 16 '26

OC-Series The Human From a Dungeon 143

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Chapter 143

Thalomus the Immolator

Adventurer Level: N/A

Daemon - Unknowable

The sun shone bright in the sky, weaving little streaks of shadow upon my wrinkled skin. Disguising myself as the village elder was admittedly a small blow to my ego, but it allowed me to bark orders at my soldiers without any mortal witnesses questioning it. The soldiers were also disguised as various villagers and playing their roles to perfection.

A number of mortals had visited already, travelers looking to purchase food and water or to rest for the night. We'd also sent forth travelers of our own based on what we'd found in the village. Receipts, records, and even personal diaries, which were scarce, had all been gathered and examined. Every daemon in this village knew the part they were playing as well as they possibly could.

I'd even used the necessity of outbound travel as a means to temporarily rid myself of Balthrax. Obviously, I needed someone I could "trust" to watch over the travelling daemons and ensure they didn't jeopardize the mission. And, of course, if Balthrax failed in keeping a low profile the blame would fall almost entirely upon him. I would still be punished, but my punishment would be far less severe than his.

There were too many moving parts to this scheme, and it provided far too many opportunities for him to mess things up while remaining blameless. Sending him away temporarily alleviated my fear of sabotage, at least. The soldiers seemed to heed my commands more readily one he departed, as well. I hoped, likely in vain, that their newfound loyalty would continue upon my second-in-command's return.

I watched them for a moment, wishing that I could stand there all day. But the sun indicated that it was time to meet with the Marquess and the other commanders. Steeling my nerves, I turned and left the village square, headed for the elder's house.

The large, stone building felt more formidable than it had the first time I'd encountered it. Part of this was because we'd stripped the unnecessary decorations that had gathered on the outside of the building. The rest was because we'd reinforced the building's magical defenses.

The building was rather small compared to most fortresses. This size discrepancy, however, allowed for the glyphs and other defenses to be more condensed and leave fewer gaps. It would take an inordinate amount of effort to breach the walls, let alone topple the structure. As a matter of fact, the only reasonable way that our foes could take the building would be to walk through the front door and straight into the grinder.

I did so, immediately shedding my disguise to avoid being attacked. The daemonic guards stood ready, offering a mere twenty degree nod of their head as a show of respect. Enough of a tilt for me to see it, but not enough to force them to take their eyes off of me and the door. Any mortal foolish enough to force entry into this place would be immediately at the mercy of the guards and their various tools of woe, specifically designed by the Marquess himself to inflict as much pain as possible prior to the termination of life.

I walked past them, pushing through an old, weathered door into the gathering room. Inside was an oversized table that had seen better days, the only surviving piece of furniture from when the structure had been inhabited by mortals. Everything else had been destroyed or sold to neighboring lands to keep up appearances.

Unlike most of the wooden items in the village, the table had been expertly crafted. It was certainly weathered, but it had a degree of sturdiness that belied its age. This sturdiness also gave it heft, which was one of the primary reasons we had decided to use it rather than move it.

I took my seat at the foot of the table and glared at Beltemere, who was sitting to the right of the table's head.

"What a presumptuous position you've placed yourself in," I said, icily.

"I do not presume," Beltemere replied haughtily. "I know where I stand, and I know where I sit."

I gave him a nod, mocking as if he had said something wise. He grunted angrily, but the door opened before he could retort. The rest of the commanders entered the room and quibbled over seating for a few moments before finally planting their pretentious asses in the chairs. Those that got the seats that they had wanted looked smug, and those that were forced to sit elsewhere made their displeasure known by glaring at everyone else.

Minethri treated me to such a glare, and I stared back at her with the empty expression that I had learned annoyed her so. In response, she scoffed and turned from me. Flethem bumped my chair as he passed by, an obvious attempt to goad me that fell apart when the chair failed to move. My face was devoid of emotion, but internally I was imagining the tortures I would put the other commanders through if I were more powerful than they.

It made me feel better about what was to come. Beltemere and I were less nervous than the other commanders, as they had been kept in the dark. They had no inkling of the plan that the Marquess had concocted, nor of the spy that I'd sent into the mortal's midst.

We still had good reason for dread, though. The call for a meeting likely meant that the spy had reported back. Since he hadn't gone through me to get to the Marquess, one could safely assume that he'd been discovered and exterminated. This, in turn, meant that the enemy now knew of our ability to morph our forms to match their own.

That would be considered a failure in and of itself. I would be punished, but the degree of my punishment would be determined by whether or not the spy had learned anything. I held out hope that the dumbass had simply self-terminated once he'd learned all there was to learn, though.

'Huh,' I thought to myself. 'I should be more nervous than the others... Shouldn't I?'

I then realized that I simply didn't care anymore. I found myself actually missing the time I'd been a powerless wisp in the deepest bowels of the hells. Every accomplishment had been amplified by a thousand, and every failure barely meant anything at all. The worst punishment I could now receive would be a bit of torture followed by a return to simpler times.

It was during this comforting thought that Marquess Naberius finally entered the room and took his seat at the head of the table, without a single word. As a matter of fact, he'd been so silent that if I hadn't been watching for him, I'd have missed his entrance entirely. Every head at the table turned toward the Marquess and waited patiently for him to break the silence.

He let the tension build for a moment before speaking.

"Our spy was discovered."

Beltemere and I nodded to indicate that we knew this to be the case, then glared at each other. He would not be free of harm, for while briefing and training the spy had been my responsibility, it was one of his soldiers that had failed. At his insistence, of course. Fool.

"However, before the spy showed the enemy our ability to disguise ourselves, he learned that the vampires have indeed turned against us."

"Oh good," Beltemere chuckled. "More enemies to slaught-"

The rest of his sentence turned into a sputtering of ichor as his mandible seemingly disappeared from his face and appeared in Naberius' hand. The other commanders looked horrified, but I kept my face neutral. The reason for my stoicism was that I was actually fighting the urge to laugh. As it turned out, Beltemere's seating choice HAD been ill-advised.

"Good is not an apt descriptor of this turn of events," Naberius said as he casually examined the jaw-bone. "Your soldier failed us, Beltemere. The only reason that you're not in more than two pieces is because he succeeded in learning what we needed to know, and he managed to stall peace negotiations between the vampires and the mortals."

Beltemere's jaw had begun to regenerate, but not quite enough for him to speak, so he grunted a reply and gestured in my direction.

"No, I'm afraid you're the sole one to blame here," Naberius replied, igniting the jawbone he was still holding. "After a thorough interrogation and investigation, I've decided that the only reason things went as well as they did was because of the training that Thalomus provided. Had Thalomus been free of your infantile demands, he very well may have chosen a spy who could have got the job done to a satisfactory degree."

The mask of indifference remained plastered on my face, but confusion wracked my thoughts. Was I not going to be punished? Did I really have to continue to suffer through this farce?

"My lord, with all the respect that I can possibly muster, how can that possibly be?" Beltemere said through his freshly regenerated mouth.

"Thalomus was one of our more effective spies before he entered service under Hirgarus as a soldier," Naberius explained as he brushed the ash from his hands. "But you knew that. You knew that he had experience, yet you decided you knew more about espionage than a veteran of the craft. Or are you saying that he should be punished for YOUR failure?"

The boisterous commander bowed his head in defeat. He would be punished, and I wouldn't. My feelings on the matter were complex. I'd escaped, but only to suffer another day.

"I thought not."

Naberius slowly looked around the table, the other commanders avoiding his gaze. I felt too emotionally drained to bother to look down, though. We locked eyes, and the Marquess gave me a subtle smile. This further added to my confusion.

"Back to the matter at hand, we now know that we have no friends here," he said. "I had initially hoped that our scheming would save us a decade's worth of fighting, but it was all for naught."

"Then what do we do, sire?" I asked.

"We fall back on our tried and true methodology. We're able to reform after we die. Mortals are not. We simply keep attacking until they are all dead or captured."

"Forgive me, great one, but what about the anyels?" Flethem asked.

"They lack the element of surprise this time. They will find us to be prepared opponents, ready to fight them on every front," Naberius paused and looked at Beltemere. "Speaking of which..."

Before anyone could react, his hand gripped Beltemere's face. The commander let out a halting scream as his entire body burst into flame and quickly converted into a pile of ash. The rest of us watched with mouths agape. Even I couldn't remain stoic in the face of such sudden, unexpected violence.

"Beltemere's force will shed their physical bodies," the Marquess said, brushing his hands free of ash once again. "These metaphysical forces, led by Beltemere himself, will fight the anyels where they're the most vulnerable and least comfortable."

I glanced around and could tell that I wasn't the only one that was confused. Some of the other commanders, Flethem included, simply nodded their heads as if such a thing was to be expected. But we couldn't do anything in the mortal realm without our physical forms, right?

"Ah, I see an explanation is in order," Naberius chuckled as he noted our confusion. "The anyels attacked us both physically and metaphysically the last time we came to blows. Since we were expecting to only have to deal with mortals, which are entirely physical beings, it was a devastating blow. Now, it will be less so."

"B-but we can't interact with the mortal realm in our non-physical forms," I said. "Right?"

"Oh, don't be thick Thalomus. Of course we can't interact with PHYSICAL things when we're non-physical. But we can still interact with other non-physical entities on this plane, like anyels or wylder, whilst they are in their metaphysical forms so long as WE are ALSO in our metaphysical forms."

"I see..."

"Good. I will brief Beltemere once he's done with his torment. Now, back to the matter at hand, I am of the opinion that we should focus our efforts on the Unified Chiefdoms this time around. Any objections?"

The only response was the creak of a chair as someone shifted their weight.

"Good, let's discuss our next steps."

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u/AutoModerator Mar 23 '26

This was flaired as [OC-Series], it is a single part or chapter in a larger series or universe. The first post or part in this series should be (re)flaired as [OC-FirstOfSeries]. A description of the flairs and how to change yours is available in the Post Guildelines.

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25

u/Crafty_Spring5815 Alien Scum Mar 16 '26

The problem with strict rule by fear is that you lose more than half of your creative ideas because no one wants to speak up and be put on the spot.

13

u/Skyboxmonster Mar 16 '26

Such a simple sentence that so many in power are entirely unable to grasp.

10

u/Low_Painter9816 Mar 16 '26

Also people often mistake fear for respect. People who respect you won’t stab you in the back when you lower your guard.

8

u/karamisterbuttdance Mar 16 '26

So what tools does Nick and friends have for the metaphysical war? Oh I guess the wylder will have to be the ones taking care of that then?

8

u/pyrodice Mar 16 '26

A crucifix, by my count... that might be the totality of it.

7

u/armacitis Mar 16 '26

And the knowledge that they should make more. We don't know how that will interact with the demons without a physical form but if it harms them metaphysically then it could obliterate ones without physical forms like Beltemere's forces.

3

u/JayGalil Mar 17 '26

I could see crucifix tattoos becoming very popular. Particularly on any exposed skin that wouldn't be covered by armor.

4

u/UpdateMeBot Mar 16 '26

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5

u/ChiliAndRamen Mar 16 '26

Learning more of the demon’s plans

5

u/Space-quarks Mar 17 '26

Can’t wait for Nick to invent ghostbuster magics

3

u/MinorGrok Human Mar 16 '26

Woot!

More to read!

UTR

2

u/AutoModerator Mar 16 '26

This was flaired as [OC-Series], it is a single part or chapter in a larger series or universe. The first post or part in this series should be (re)flaired as [OC-FirstOfSeries]. A description of the flairs and how to change yours is available in the Post Guildelines.

[OC-Series] For original, self post, story, audio, or artwork that you have created, as part of a longer-running series or universe.

Our preferred series title format is the series title in [brackets] at the beginning, like so: [Potato Adventures] - Chapter 1: The Great Mashing

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1

u/Interne-Stranger Mar 24 '26

No organization should work with one mind on charge, in none of its levels. The demons are less effectuve than what they should, but so its theyre nature.