Hundreds of Thralls twitched, shrieked, and drooled as their booted feet marched through the dark, jagged stone hallways of the dark palace. This was the epicenter of Ash’s, one of the three Fiendish Lords, domain. Some of the crazed soldiers would wander off to stare into space, or in some cases, they would kneel on the ground while hugging their chests or heads.

  “There are always a few that need a reminder,” Calzor hissed as his coal-black lips pulled back into a sneer that revealed sharp teeth.

  The Fiend’s Rune-covered whip let out a sharp crack as he got the errant Thralls back in line. It was not fear or pain that made them follow orders. Their broken minds were forged to obey. Calzor and the other overseers preferred to use whips for their cruel enjoyment. The Thralls were almost mindless, except they knew two things, fury and obedience.

  The Thralls were once people with individual thoughts and feelings, but now their minds had been twisted and corrupted by the Affliction aspect. They were the captured souls from the hundreds of realms the Stronghold invaded. Some had skin, others had fur, and others had scales. What they had in common was that they were taken, broken, enslaved, and trained like animals to participate in the endless wars the Fiends engaged in across the dimensions.

  Calzor and his fellow overseers had released them from their pens and herded them like cattle through the massive castle made from jagged onyx. The Fiend overseer was in a foul mood.

  “What’s the matter, Cally? Having a bad day?” Another Fiend overseer joked.

  Calzor scowled and snapped, “Magpie, I’ve told you to not call me that!”

  Several other overseers swooped in on their bat-like wings to join the two. They chuckled like grinding rocks at the antics and watched to see who would appear the weakest. Calzor hated them. He hated everything.

  “Any of you losers know why are we moving the Thralls?” Magpie asked. He was bigger than the others and armored with a dark breastplate over coal-black mail.

  Calzor scowled at him. Magpie thinks he is better than us! The rumor was that he'd been a soldier on the front lines and was disgraced and sent to work as an overseer. If only I could find out why, then I would have power over him! Calzor thought to himself.

  Out loud, he answered, “The lower levels of the Stronghold were shut down.”

  Ziz, another overseer who was perched above on a jagged edge like a gargoyle, hissed, “Yes, I heard that Adventurers have taken not one but two Hold Cores.”

  Magpie’s amber eyes went wide. “How is that possible?”

  Calzor growled, “It’s because we are not united,” the overseer leaned in close and quietly added, “Word has it that there are those that are aiding the Cultist to free Misery.”

  This made the other Fiends become quiet. A few glanced around nervously before flying off. Magpie glowered at Calzor. All around them, the Thralls shuffled their feet and muttered manically to themselves.

  “Where did you hear this?” Magpie demanded.

  Calzor snorted and waved a hand. “Never mind, we are all just talking here.” Maybe I said too much! I am so stupid! The overseer inwardly worried to himself.

  “You could be killed for saying that. Lord Ash might reward me himself and send me back to the front line if I bring him your head,” Magpie stated.

  “Like he would waste a moment on the likes of you, you are pathetic!” Calzor snapped.

  “You dare speak to me like that?” Magpie growled.

  Calzor blinked his yellow eyes. My big stupid mouth again! I might have crossed the line, he thought to himself. All he had was an Affliction-empowered whip. He was an overseer and never fought on the front lines. Even if Magpie was disgraced, he was still once a warrior. One that was armed with a longsword and in dark plate armor. But the other overseers were watching. If Calzor cowed before Magpie now, then he will forever be abused. Death was preferred, Calzor thought to himself. The Fiend overseer put on his most fierce scowl and gripped his whip in his right hand, and his left hand prepared to shape the Affliction spells, his most skilled aspect. Magpie grinned and reached for the longsword at his side.

  “What is the meaning of this?” A low, deep voice growled from above that was followed by an immense shadow.

  The other overseers scattered on flapping wings as an enormous Greater Fiend landed on hoofed feet in their midsts. Calzor saw that he had nowhere to go, so he immediately fell, groveling to the ground.

  “This one speaks of treason,” Magpie declared and pointed with a clawed finger.

  Calzor’s head was bowed, and he didn’t see what happened next. Instead, he heard a great rush of wind, Magpie’s final gasp of pain, and the splash of hot blood onto the back of his head.

  “I wanted these Thralls by the Monster Portals an hour ago. If they are not there in the next thirty minutes, then more heads will roll,” the Greater Fiend hissed. He finished his sentence with a deep, rumbling chuckle before leaping into the air to fly away in a gust of buffeting wind.

  Calzor remained bowed and shaken for several moments before he looked up. The other overseers have already taken their Thralls and moved on. But they left Calzor with his and Magpie’s troops. Great! He cursed himself. Speaking of Magpie, Calzor looked over and saw the bloodied corpse on the ground and the Fiend’s head a short distance away. Magpie’s mouth remained open as if he were about to speak. His final words were lost forever. The cruelty of the Greater Fiends was random. Survival was often determined by not being noticed.

  The Thralls twitched and drooled, and dozens had already started to wander off. Calzor had his work cut out for him, but not before he claimed Magpie’s armor and sword! If I can get the Thralls to the portals in time and survive, then I will be the one to push around the others! He thought to himself.

  “Get in line you pathetic runts!” Calzor roared and cracked his enchanted whip.

  The overseer was equipped in bloodied armor, a whip, and a sword as he flew above the marching Thralls. He felt good as he utilized the whip with the Affliction aspect to keep the mindless shock troopers marching in line. It took double the effort since he had double the work, but he gritted his teeth and pushed the Thralls hard to move them out of the castle and toward the Monster Portals.

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  The plains of red sand outside of Lord Ash’s enormous castle were busy with activity as hundreds of gibbering Thralls formed battle lines. Are we trying to defend the Stronghold, or are we preparing for war? Calzor wondered. He moved his two platoons of Thralls into place before a shimmering red threshold. He landed to stand before them with his whip at the ready. Occasionally, a Thrall would wander out of formation, and he would force them back into line. To his left and right were many other red glowing Thresholds with rows of Thralls standing before them. His fellow overseers kept the insane shock troopers in line. This was not for war against Char, the other Fiendish Lord, Calzor decided to himself. He did not see any units of Fiends or Ogres. Heck, I don’t even see beastmasters with swarms of Bloodlings, he thought. This was just to reinforce the Stronghold until it could be repaired. Now, that would be a while since it required Ash and Char to cooperate and free Misery, Calzor thought with a crooked grin. They would have to give up their power and they would never do that.

  A Thrall stepped out of line and shambled toward him. Calzor was distracted by his own thoughts, and he was slow to notice the stumbling form get close to him.

  “Get back in line!” The overseer snapped and lashed out with his whip, but the Thrall dodged the attack!

  “What?” Calzor gasped, but it was too late. The Thrall, no longer stumbling, closed the distance and plunged a knife into the Fiend’s throat, just above Magpie’s used armor.

  Calzor gurgled and dropped his whip to hold his bleeding neck in his hands. It did nothing to stop the flow of blood, and as his life faded, he glanced at his killer. How did I not notice this earlier? Calzor wondered. The Thrall was a human with dark skin, almost as dark as a Fiend, and with a muscular frame quite unlike a malnourished Thrall. The man had piercing dark eyes and burn scars along one side of his face. The human grabbed Calzor by his head and plunged the dagger through the Fiend’s skull.

  *****

  Drake pulled his knife free from the overseer’s head as the pathetic being fell to the floor with surprise etched forever on its face. The disgraced captain glanced around. He was not noticed, and the Thralls remained mindless. Drake reached down and picked up the whip. He was no Rune caster, but Drake knew enough to operate enchanted tools and equipment. He made sure not to over-rely on them, but a tool was a tool. He would be a fool if he didn’t take advantage of all that was available to him. So Drake made sure to know enough for moments like this where using a Rune-enchanted whip could make all the difference.

  For the past three days he studied the overseer using the whip to control the Thralls. Three miserable and agonizing days of pretending to be a mindless Thrall. Living in filth and surrounded by constant madness. It was a wonder he was not crazy himself.

  “Now, to start some trouble,” Drake said to himself.

  He tapped the whip and shaped the glyphs he had seen the overseer do numerous times. Drake felt the energy snap into place, and with a sneer, he lashed the whip toward the two platoons of Thralls and felt the red, greasy Affliction energy take effect. The result was instantaneous as the blank expressions on the Thralls’ faces changed to savagery. Drake directed them to attack the neighboring platoons, and pure chaos ensued. All around the Fiend overseers desperately tried to get their charges under control, but once the fury was unleashed, it was like a wildfire and impossible to contain.

  Drake smiled. He loved watching the pure brutality unfold. He tossed the whip aside as he no longer had use for it. Nor did Drake want anything to do with such a tool. But the Fiend’s longsword caught his eye, and Drake retrieved it. It was a fine black steel blade, well-balanced and forged with cruelty, just the way Drake liked it. It had a long handle and could be wielded with two hands or used in one hand with a shield. A moment later, he heard the blasting of loud horns, which indicated that the Fiends believed that they were under attack.

  That was the signal that Sindred, his Fiendish teammate, had told him about. The horns will alert his colleagues, who were hiding in the nearby hills, that he was successful. Drake pulled out a small, rune-covered stone that he kept hidden among his filthy Thrall armor. Three days, he reflected with a shake of his head. It was done! Drake activated the rune stone that allowed Val to Rift to his location. In an instant, the purple tear in reality appeared, and Sindred was the first to exit as she walked languidly on her long legs. The Fiend had coal-black skin, emerald green eyes, and long, fiery red hair that fell down to her shoulders.

  “Well done, my pet,” she purred and caressed Drake’s cheek with a long-nailed finger.

  Drake slapped her hand away with a scowl. She laughed, but her glowing green eyes remained on him. All around them, the Thralls rampaged. All it took was a little fuse to ignite the fury and madness that was trapped within all of them.

  Val, Web, and Ozun exited the portal next. Drake, with no care for modesty, stripped out of the filthy and stained Thrall armor that Sindred had supplied them earlier. This was her plan and the Fiend used to work for Lord Ash, but Drake was unclear who she remained loyal to as she was helping them free Misery, the third Fiend Lord. Like us, her loyalties are her own, he guessed. The Demoness pointedly watched him. Web handed Drake his pack and his gear.

  “I may never be rid of this stench,” he growled.

  Web smiled, and the pale-skinned Rune caster Summoned and Shaped the water aspect to douse him. Web then Controlled the water to pull all of the dirt, grime, and filth from his body. In moments, he was clean and dry. The web tattooed lady was a master of her craft, Drake reflected.

  “You have my thanks,” he said.

  Web nodded and replied in a soft voice that sounded like silk, “You did good. I will admit I had my doubts. This was a job that Shiv would normally do.”

  Val, their blonde-haired leader, stepped forward and examined the red Monster portal with pale eyes. She turned and said, “Turns out we didn’t need Shiv. You have many remarkable talents, Drake. I didn’t think acting was among them.”

  Once a thief, always a thief, Drake thought to himself. Lying was another form of acting.

  Ozun, the dark-skinned swordsman with braided hair, scowled as he glanced at the dead Fiend. “A coward’s skill set,” he spat. His metal armor rattled as he crossed his well-muscled arms.

  “I would call it survival skills. But you wouldn’t know anything about that,” Drake shot back.

  The disgraced captain quickly donned a padded jacket and pants. Afterward, he pulled on a heavy chainmail shirt and cinched it tight with a belt at his waist. The mail offered protection down to his thighs. Drake then strapped on metal greaves to protect his shins.

  Ozun stepped up to his face and asked, “What are you implying?” The two were similar in height with thick athletic builds that were forged from battle.

  Drake answered as he pulled on a pair thick leather gloves. “I know your type. Born rich, perhaps a noble? Trained by the best instructors. You never once needed to do the dirty work. Me? I had to cheat, lie, and steal to survive.”

  Ozun sneered. “A coward’s life.”

  Drake’s face hardened like a lake freezing in the winter. Sindred smiled widely to reveal her sharp teeth, and she clasped her hands together.

  “Will you two fight?” The Demoness cheered.

  Web rolled her eyes as Val stepped in between the two men. A sharp glare from her was all that was needed for the two warriors to back down. The chaos of fighting around them started to subside. Their cover was about to be blown.

  “We succeeded. Now, shall we return to the Spire?” Val said and motioned toward the shimmering red monster portal.

  Her teammates nodded. Eagerness was clear in their eyes, like predators that had just spotted fresh prey.

  Val nodded. “Let us not waste another moment. Power awaits us, my friends,” she said.

  The team departed through the portal as the fighting continued. Unbeknownst to them, a tiny figure was hidden among the shadows. Its red eyes flashed as it snickered with delight at watching the mayhem unfold. Silent as a whisper, the little Goblin grabbed the overseer’s whip before it ran off.