That First Spark

by kenyizsu

Somehow, Lyndon always finds himself in the middle of the biggest mayhem, even after the End Days. As he struggles to find his path, the scoundrel is dragged into an attack on the Realm of Hatred against his will. Yet, what he finds there may very well change his life, and entrust him with an unfamiliar role he must embrace... for the good of all the world.

36. Chapter 36

9082 words, cupcaaaaaaakes!

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Chapter 36

Maluus. Malthael's personal biggest failure.

The Archangel of Wisdom had always counted that terrible loss as his own fault. Maluus had been the most average-looking demon one could possibly imagine, and he had attacked with an entire wave of other mosnters. He had been slain, of course, but made sure his blood splattered all over the defending angels. At first, nothing happened, and the battle was won. Then the insubordination started: shouting, fights, disobedience. Imperius was seemingly losing control over a handful of his soldiers. Malthael had not paid it much attention back then. Then during a fight of disagreements, angelic essence was actually spilled onto other seraphim. The insubordination spread, and got worse and worse. Imperius and Tyrael could do nothing, Auriel failed, Malthael could not decipher the sudden madness.

By the time Wisdom traced back the tainted essence to Maluus and issue an order to quarantine the afflicted, it was already over. The Angelic Host was increasingly less successful at keeping the sieging demons at bay, while crazed seraphim weakened their unity from the inside. They were being pushed back at an alarming pace. Most tainted angels turned into corrupted ones and switched sides. The next thing they all knew, the Host was hard-pressed to protect the Diamond Gates themselves.

Malthael never truly forgave himself for his slowness in that matter, even though by some damned miracle they came out on top in the end. He knew he should have counted themselves lucky Imperius and all his other siblings somehow escaped Maluus' influence amidst the chaos. That would have meant the end of the Eternal Conflict, all because of a single low-life demon!

The archangel has memorized Maluus' aura and learnt to hate it, despite the demon only appearing one more time ever again during the war. He had been quickly banished successfully then.

Here in this godforsaken fortress, Baal's remnants temporarily masked Maluus' vile aura, but eventually, as the foolish demonspawn just refused to wake up, Malthael picked up on it. Without his powers and without the Angelic Host to back him up, the angel wanted nothing to do with the monster, and tried his damnest to usher the two mortals to leave as soon as possible. Of course the dimwitted hellspawn heard the drums, turned around and stormed back inside! Malthael internally screeched for minutes without pause as he ran after the fools. Why did he have to be stuck with these two?!

He still hoped that the mortals would see the ritual, back down and make a run for it. Humans all carried the wicked cowardice of demons, certainly it would surface now…

It didn't.

Instead, Lyndon announced that they were going to stop Maluus from entering Sanctuary. It was as if listening to pre-idiotic-fall Tyrael, the only difference was that the hellspawn was a weak sick human, armed with a butter knife and a crossbow, against an army of demonic goatmen.

Malthael was beginning to resign himself to his fate, that he would die on this forsaken mudball, killed by vicious herbivores armed with axes. Somehow he wasn't feeling too ecstatic about all this.

So with all that, when Lyndon summoned a treasure goblin with a coin, Malthael decided to practice a hobby he had picked up when he had been tossed back to Sanctuary: he turned his brain off and just went with it.

oooOOOooo

Lyndon stared down at the repulsive ritual, his mind coming up empty on the subject of "brilliant plan". It was clear that the sight itself disrupted his focus, but even looking away, he was stumped. An entire clan of demonic goats, armed with axes, javelins and magic, against a rogue with a dagger and crossbow, a scholar who had maybe three fights in his life before, and a useless deadweight angel with non-existent powers.

To call the odds low was very generous.

The scoundrel tore his eyes away from the ritual for the n-th time, ducked behind the bastion's parapet and wrecked his brain for any idea. His hands involuntarily began rummaging in his pockets, looking for anything that could help. All he found were his blinding power, his three good-luck charms (which he squeezed for a second)… and a little round something.

Puzzled, Lyndon pulled it out. It was a pure golden coin, but with a treasure goblin's profile on it. Oh… it was the dime he had gotten from Luther as a gift a few weeks ago. The scoundrel still had no idea what was the reason behind it, but kept it nonetheless.

- Can we do anything here? – Hazir whimpered next to him, shocked to his core. – I mean… we must do something, I know, but what can we do, this is way too much for us!

- I'm thinking – Lyndon mused.

His fingers, moving on their own, flipped the coin while he was lost in thought. The dime landed in his palm, and a ripple ran across the air, knocking the scoundrel out of his stupor.

The next second a golden portal popped into existence at an arm's length from the trio, and a hunched figure vaulted across it.

- HA-HEE, frienddd! – greeted the treasure goblin with the white horn, hoisting a huge sack proudly.

- Luther! – Lyndon cried out in surprise, almost jumping up.

- What the hell?! – Abd al-Hazir nearly threw himself off of the bastion in alarm as he scuttled back from the sudden visitor.

Malthael glared at the demon, his arm raised as if preparing to slap the little freak into next week. Luther seemed absolutely unfazed by the reception, and happily shook the stunned Lyndon's hand.

- Friend! – he announced again.

- What are you doing here? – the scoundrel stared at him.

Luther pointed at the dime, grinning widely.

- I… I can call you with this? – Lyndon guessed, to which he received a vigorous nod.

- You have a treasure goblin as a friend? You will truly need to tell me this later – Hazir glanced at the scoundrel in utter disbelief.

- It is a weird story, I admit.

- Heee!

- Anu help us – Malthael grumbled.

- Shut up, Malthael, you insisted on attaching yourself to me. Now bear the consequences of that! – Lyndon barked at the angel.

- I fullyregret saving you all those times.

- Too bad, it's done now.

- Keep it down or they will hear us – Hazir hissed urgently at them.

- Haeee-heee – Luther agreed in a much lower tone, dropping his sack and flattening against the ground.

Lyndon looked back down at the courtyard. Most of the snowy ground was covered by the self-growing bloody summoning circle. Its center, the pool was positively boiling at this point. The Khazra were going nuts with chanting and drumming and dancing, pretty much every second word was "Maluus".

They were running out of time fast.

- Friend? – Luther asked, peeking from behind the parapet.

- We need to stop these Khazra from summoning a demon called Maluus, Luther. I just… don't have any idea how.

- We are all going to die – Malthael stated behind them matter-of-factly.

- Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mal.

- I have no confidence in you, or your entire species. And that is not my name.

- Ignore him, he's an asshole – Lyndon glanced at Luther.

- Hae – the treasure goblin agreed.

The scoundrel thought for a second, his eyes darting from one point to the next.

- Hazir, can your Lorenado be stopped? – he asked then.

- I… I think not. Until it runs out of magic, it goes wherever I want it.

Lyndon looked at the ridiculously enormous treasure sack which alone must have weighted a ton, yet Luther carried it around like it was nothing.

- You have an idea? – Abd asked with slight hope in his voice.

- I'm thinking. We need to take out the Ice Clan swiftly, kill as many with one fell swoop as possible.

- The Lorenado is best in closed quarters, to be honest – the scholar admitted uneasily.

- That is why we'll need to upgrade it with something – Lyndon nodded. – Luther, are you willing to help us?

- Ahaaa!

- Can I ask for your treasures?

- Hae!

- Gods, I hope that was a yes. We need a lot of magical items that can shoot beams and blow up on their own. Do you have any of those?

Luther immediately dived into his own sack and began throwing all kinds of trash out of there. Soon there was a quite nice pile of magical wands, staffs, sources, focuses, three barrels with fireworks-powder, a handful of large gems that seemed to have some kind of flame within them, and other magical items that looked like they could blow up from a bad glance.

Lyndon smiled faintly at the sight. Turning back to the summoning, the scoundrel could finally think properly.

oooOOOooo

Despite clearly having great experience with demonic magic, the Ice Clan really did not expect the Lorenado-Straight-Outta-Hell barreling down on them out of nowhere.

The Khazra had committed the big mistake of grouping up pretty tightly as the summoning was nearing its end. They all wanted to see the emerging of the demon in the amphitheater, so they shoved, bleated and angrily shook their weapons at each other for the better spots. They also failed to look behind themselves, until it was too late.

Luther had no problem whatsoever filling the Lorenado with his treasures, he was positively glowing with pride as he and Abd al-Hazir watched from cover as the twister, now suddenly filled with volatile magic, stormed forward. With a mighty roar, the spell crashed straight into the heart of the gathering, killing Khazra by the dozen with each passing moment. It shot beams at every conceivable angle, hurled exploding objects like hail, wrecking everything around itself. The Khazra screeched in alarm, some threw javelins at the threat, but the Lorenado simply sucked up the weapons and shot them out in random directions, often hitting the mark with them.

Two out of the three shamans turned around to confront the rabid twister, while the third kept up the chanting stubbornly. One flung fire blasts which only made the Lorenado even worse. The other shaman bleated a strange spell that, alarmingly, actually had an effect: the twister wavered and slowed down in its path, although it still spewed magic and fire everywhere. One random beam from a staff hit the fire-flinging shaman straight in the head, killing it instantly. Unfortunately, both chanting shamans survived the attack, and the second could finally nullify the Lorenado.

Despite this setback, only twenty Khazra remained alive, out of the over fifty they were originally.

- That was so amazing – Hazir breathed, peeking out from a smaller trench.

- Hae! – Luther agreed wholeheartedly from next to him.

The surviving goatmen went absolutely livid at their losses, with foaming mouths and bloodshot eyes they screamed bloody murder. Before they could spot Hazir and the treasure goblin, Lyndon swooped down onto a small group of three and slashed their necks and abdomens open in quick succession. Up until this point, the scoundrel was posing as part of a wrecked, discarded cart in the middle of the courtyard, willing his clothes and his protective wall-rug to merge into the background. He waited out the Lorenado from a safe distance then jumped into the fray.

On the other side, Malthael did the same, armed with his simple but deadly punyal. The angel went along with the plan without a single word, despite his clear doubt in their survival. Hazir and Luther too emerged and charged with loud battlecries. The scholar was holding a book above his head, which greatly diminished his fearsome appearance. Luther, on the other hand, sported a golden two-handed broadsword from his collection, while carrying his own sack as well.

The four unlikely heroes fearlessly fell upon the Khazra.

The remaining beasts pulled back and created a defensive ring around their two shamans. Luther grabbed a nearby dead goatman by its hooves and threw it with all of his might at the line, knocking a few foes off their feet. The not-chanting shaman shot fire at the treasure goblin in return, but the little demon eagerly showed off the incredible speed and agility of his species.

The goatmen retaliated but Hazir had equipped everyone with Mighty Pens before the attack, thus the axes and javelins got stuck on quills. Malthael had to dance away from three slashes aimed at him, one of them barely missing his side. He struck out with his dagger but it was deflected. Hissing in anger, he retreated a little closer to Hazir and Luther. The treasure goblin clubbed a Khazra to death with little effort. Hazir shouted curses at the goatmen, acting as more of a distraction while he swatted and danced away from jabs. He was trying to position himself in a certain way where the two shamans fell in one line for him.

Lyndon's dagger glowed green as he slashed and jabbed with it. It broke the tip of javelins, cut off two spearheads and a hand of a Khazra. If the scoundrel had the opportunity, he would have questioned just how this completely ordinary dagger was capable of doing all this. Right there and then, however, he was just eternally grateful that it did. They had to get through to the summoner, but the goatmen, realizing their situation, put up a hell of a lot more fight than usual, standing their ground like immovable statues.

Abd al-Hazir finally found an opening. He threw down a book, screaming a command word at it. The tome turned into a Letter Cannon and began its deadly barrage at the enemy, straight between Malthael and Luther who instinctively drew back. The Cannon had been immensely effective.

Too effective, in fact.

The fire-throwing shaman was caught in the middle of the onslaught and it flew back… straight into the boiling pool. It disappeared under the waves without a trace, and the blood's swirl became even madder.

Lyndon jumped back from a strike, and stared at the pool in terror. Without thinking, he blinked, straight behind every Khazra and onto the other end of the amphitheater. He grabbed his crossbow and shot at the summoning shaman, now nothing obscuring his view of the target.

The bolt whizzed through the air, and hit the shaman straight in the chest. Its spell finally faltered and it stumbled forward into the blood.

Lyndon had a single moment to blink away from the sudden explosion. Where he stood a second ago, the air was cut through by freshly formed claws that sprayed blood everywhere. The scoundrel landed a few meters behind his own team, frantically tearing off the carpet from his body, which was covered in stains.

Something was emerging from the pit, horned, raw and disgusting.

- RUN! – Lyndon screamed.

Malthael grabbed the frozen Hazir and dragged him along, while Luther easily passed all of them with his sack on his back, screeching in alarm. Lyndon stayed a second longer, locking eyes with their new opponent.

- It's good to be back! – Maluus laughed with glee.

He looked like a demon Marauder, only without the skin. His reptilian head and hunched back were the exact same as all those troopers Lyndon and Johanna had killed at Bastion's Keep. Maluus, however, appeared to be shaped out of blood and meat entirely, a clear sign of his new reforming. He was huge, well over four meters, as he stepped out of the amphitheater with ease. The remaining five Khazra cheered at him, even as Maluus swung his arm over them and covered them in blood.

- You there! Mortal!

Lyndon did not wait for him to finish. He finally turned around and ran after his team, not looking back.

oooOOOooo

- I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! It's all my fault! – Hazir wailed, hiding his face into his hands.

- Stop it! You are not responsible for this – Lyndon tried to calm him as he helped Malthael drag him along, deep into the keep's dark rooms.

They had found temporary escape from their pursuers inside the ruins, but it could not last for long.

- But I knocked the shaman into the pool! – Hazir cried miserably.

- And I knocked the summoner into the pool. We all screwed up! – the scoundrel countered.

- I doomed our world!

- Hazir, listen to me! – Lyndon stopped abruptly and grabbed the scholar by the shoulders, shaking him violently.

This caused Hazir to stop crying with a surprised hiccup.

- You did not doom anything or anyone – the scoundrel stated firmly, forcing him to look into his eyes. – I came up with the plan far too late. If there is blame, it is on me. You did amazingly, your Lorenado single-handedly wiped out almost the entire Ice Clan. Be proud of that! What we need to do is finish the job now!

Hazir gulped, nodding slowly as Lyndon let go of him.

- You are still foolish enough to fight? He has spread his essence onto the Khazra. If a single one of them survives, he lives on – Malthael growled in a low voice.

- If we do not go back and engage him, he will grow tired of chasing us and instead leaves to find a large enough settlement – Lyndon glared at the angel. – We have to keep his attention on us! There has to be a way to kill him for good.

- Hae! – Luther agreed vehemently, taking the scoundrel's side.

- But what? How?! He sprays blood just by moving! We can't dodge every drop forever – Hazir breathed hard, grabbing his own head in fear.

Lyndon looked around frantically. He had to come up with something! Anything! Something that can help kill this hellborn bastard—

They were in some kind of ritual chamber probably, with the torches still smoldering around them. It stood in a stark contrast with the rest of the fortress: instead of barren walls and floors, patterns adored everything, created from multi-colored pebble mosaics. It was a meticulously done work of art no one would have given the Barbarians. Lyndon's eyes were caught on a relief on the wall next to them, made from slightly larger pebbles than the rest of the decorations. In the dim light, it was hard to make out the image fully, but it was picturing a man ascending to a greatly adorned throne.

- Hazir… what is the story of the Immortal Throne, again? – Lyndon asked, staring at the piece of art in an almost hypnotic daze.

He had heard about this legend before coming to Sescheron, but knew very little of it. They had not found the throne room during their last adventure here.

- Wha—what? – the scholar followed his line of sight, catching on.

- It… it's the highest badge of honor possible for any leader of the Barbarians – he started slowly, finding his footing in story-telling. – The first immortal king was Bul-Kathos himself. They created this throne in his image and believed that the worthy leaders are the reincarnation of their god, thus only they could sit on the throne. One of the few was a king named Worusk who united the tribes and created the Council of Elders. A—as far as I know, King Kanai was considered for this position as well, but he died fighting Baal and soon after Sescheron fell. His death broke the morale of the people.

Lyndon's mind was roaring with thoughts.

- Does it have any magic? – he asked.

- I… I don't know. The Barbarians never really shared what exactly an "immortal king" is. For all we know, it could have been a mere title – Hazir sighed helplessly.

The scoundrel took a deep breath.

- Friend? – Luther asked uncertainly.

-… We have to try it – Lyndon concluded, eyeing the throne on the relief.

- You would bet our lives on an old legend? – Malthael asked softy from the background.

- We don't really have a choice. The Barbarians do have their own magic, we all know that. Perhaps the throne is a hub for it, and it may attack the demon out of self-defense – the scoundrel finally tore his eyes away from the wall and looked at the angel.

- That is an unhealthy amount of assumptions.

- Yes, it is. Got any better ideas, Wisdom?

-… No. I see that telling you to flee is futile – Malthael shook his head.

- Glad you caught up – Lyndon nodded slightly.

- But how do we find it? – Hazir asked. – It's here somewhere in Sescheron, but where?!

That gave Lyndon a pause. He hadn't thought about that problem, damnit!

- Friend! – Luther spoke up, poking at his own chest.

- What is it, Luther?

The demon looked around frantically, clearly frustrated to try and come up with a way he could explain himself. Finally he closed his eyes, took a loud sniff and bolted in a random direction, forcing the others to follow him.

- Wait! – Lyndon shouted as he ran after the treasure goblin through a corridor.

Instead of stopping, Luther burst into a random hall and ran straight at an ivy-covered wall, disappearing behind it. The others hesitated for a second, but it quickly turned out there was a hole in the wall behind the plant. It lead into a small room chuck full of old treasure chests and piled up weapons. Luther stood there, not taking anything but gesturing wildly at the discovery, then at himself again.

Lyndon helplessly glanced between the two, unable to connect the dots.

-… He can sense large piles of treasure – Malthael suddenly spoke, realization dawning on him.

- HAE! HAE! – Luther agreed, overjoyed.

-… And the Immortal Throne is probably surrounded by offerings from Barbarians over the centuries – Hazir caught on as well.

- Luther, you are truly godsent – Lyndon smiled at their companion.

- Ffriend!

- Okay, so… so we find Maluus again and—and get him to follow us to the Throne? – Hazir stammered, nervously wringing his fingers.

- Correct – Lyndon pulled his crossbow from his back, cocking it. – Let's go. We are not out of this race yet.

oooOOOooo

Malthael was honestly surprised that they were still alive, especially since their original plan had failed spectacularly.

He was so surprised in fact that he kind of forgot to show resistance against Plan B, outside of stating the obvious, that putting their lives on a fancy chair that may or may not have some kind of magic in it is the textbook definition of risky. Of course Lyndon didn't really care about that, and if Malthael had to be honest with himself, they didn't have an option here either. They could always let the demon wreak havoc, but that was clearly out of the question, and he mostly settled for that.

Plan B had been devised on the spot: the group would get Maluus to follow them, the treasure goblin (inexplicably named Luther) would lead them to the throne room and they pray that the chair would actually attack the enemy. Two questions remained: whether or not the chair could actually do anything, and whether or not it would realize who the enemy actually was. They did not really have the luxury to dwell on this, nor to at least map out the path leading to the throne room first. They would have to follow Luther blindly.

Malthael was getting used to these non-existent odds at this point.

They caught up with Maluus just before the main entrance of Sescheron. It wasn't hard to track down the demon, although they had to avoid touching the blood trails on the way.

Lyndon's bolt of light sailed across the air and grazed the half-formed shoulder of the demon, earning a painful grunt from him. He turned around, revealing slowly growing skin on his body, his five bodyguards mimicking him. The Khazra already looked more vicious and twisted than before, foam dripped from their mouths.

- You – Maluus growled at the strange team of four.

- We! Figured this was the best way to grab your attention, you prick! – spat Lyndon in his direction, crossbow still at the ready.

He acquired a new set of carpet around his body, and he stood on the front, while the others lined up behind him, clutching their weapons. Malthael was fairly certain that only Hazir looked less threatening than him.

- My minions told me you tried to stop my summoning – Maluus took a thundering step towards them.

- That we did. We also wiped the earth clean of the entire Clan. You may congratulate us now – the scoundrel theatrically bowed.

- Truly a way with words – Malthael grumbled under his nose, listening to the ridiculous back-and-forth.

- Mortals have become quite pesky in my absence - Maluus commented with slight annoyance.

- Oh no! We actually got more moderate since then. You were just too stupid to realize that.

- Is this a joke?

- Your mere existence already covers the comedy. There is no need for more.

Maluus snorted at this, revealing his fangs. He lazily swung an arm behind himself, to which one Khazra turned around and began marching into the forest.

Lyndon's aim was true this time. His bolt flew straight into the head of the beast, killing it instantly.

- Y'know… I really do hate it when I do not receive the full attention of the jerk I am talking to. I might even get offended – Lyndon hissed menacingly.

Malthael gently raised his hand, gesturing at the fallen Khazra. By some miracle, his magic obeyed him this time and he encased the corpse into a tomb of ice, so no hungry wild beast could get to it.

What the angel refused to show was his exhaustion at this simple feat. He had thrown every ounce of his focus into this, along with a good amount of prayer and desperate hope that his magic would do as he says and not send him flying. This one time Itherael was on his side, apparently. He could feel Lyndon's glance on him, but did not acknowledge it.

- So you know – Maluus sneered.

- Oh we know a lot of things about you. But I was kinda hoping for someone… bigger, you understand? – Lyndon returned the grin. – More unique. You are quite the bore to look at.

- It is bold of you to think you could stop me.

- A kid did it last time – Hazir chimed in.

Malthael silently congratulated him: the scholar sounded like he was one of the finest of Valor's soldiers, when his mind was buzzing with fear and worry. It was hard to pull off such a feat in the presence of a demon that was capable of wiping out entire squadron of angels, given enough time.

That one comment had some strong effect on the demon finally. He drew forward with an angry snarl.

- And what shall you do, I wonder? You think yourself a warrior and you are throwing around books, you worthless worm?!

- Hey, as long as it works! – Hazir held his book higher out of sheer defiance.

- What can you honestly achieve? Two nameless nobodies, a cowardly goblin and a worthless angel.

So Maluus did not recognize him. Malthael was privately glad for that, and was not in a hurry to point the mistake out. He knew the demon would prioritize him as the main target the second he realized he had an Archangel in such a vulnerable position.

- Isn't it obvious, Maluus? – Lyndon grinned at their opponent. – We are going to kill you. Simple.

The demon threw his head back at this and laughed uproariously. It quickly turned into an actual roar, though, to which his remaining Khazra charged forward, with him following suit.

- Luther – Lyndon mumbled.

The treasure goblin shrieked defiantly and yanked out a prepared wand from his sack. He swung it wildly and sent a bolt of orange light forward. The attack flew straight into the chest of a Khazra, turning it into ash immediately. Luther quickly threw the wand at his friends then turned on his heels and took the deepest sniff in his life. Malthael awkwardly caught the wand in his surprise just as they began their strategic retreat into the fortress.

- Use it! – Lyndon shouted as he fired his (definitely angelic) crossbow rapidly to slow down the enemy.

- It is fire-magic, I cannot do that! – Malthael complained, hopelessly trying to call upon the power inside the object.

- Your kind sucks this badly at magic?!

- We are more powerful than you can imagine!

- Guys! – Hazir shouted as he threw a book like a Frisbee to knock aside a Khazra for a second.

- Bullshit! A newbie apprentice can do more than you can! – Lyndon barked at Malthael.

- Watch me, hellspawn! – Malthael forced the words between his invisible teeth, then swung the wand at the enemy, pouring his anger into the move.

It would have been far more satisfying to aim at Lyndon, but thankfully his will to survive overrode that impulse.

A bright blue bolt exploded from the wand, hitting a Khazra. The goatman let out a surprised hiccup before its entire body turned into solid ice, then promptly self-combusted, leaving behind nothing.

- See? It's not so hard – Lyndon grinned at the angel, as he half-ran half-skipped across the floor.

- Emotions can be your friend, Mal – Hazir added, clearly relieved that there were only two Khazra left.

Malthael wanted to retort, but just then, one of the goatmen suddenly gained speed, skipped across a couple of wrecked tables and flew straight at the angel with his javelin at the ready. Malthael stumbled backwards, almost falling over in some kind of trash on the floor. From his right, came flying a green dagger, embedding itself into the Khazra and blowing up. The burning corpse tumbled through the ruins, slowly rolling into a convenient hole.

- That was lucky as all hell. But now I have no dagger – Lyndon hissed.

Malthael regained his footing and, still in a strange half-running backwards stance, looked around frantically. Only one Khazra, and Maluus would be forced to focus on them if he wanted minions. That had been part of the plan, although the kind of part which required a lot of improvisation. Malthael had never really been all that good in that, Imperius was the undisputed king.

Lyndon and Hazir were in full retreat, the latter being dangerously low on books with which he could batter their pursuers. Neither of them saw that Maluus was slowing down. Malthael realized with dread the demon lost interest in them, and was probably contemplating simply turning around and going outside.

Not even thinking, Malthael suddenly stopped and lunged forward, wand held high. He crashed into the surprised Khazra and grabbed its neck, throwing it at a wall so hard its skull cracked audibly. Malthael tore off a burning torch from the nearby pillar and jammed it into the chest of the beast, setting the fur ablaze. The Khazra, still partially alive, trashed and bleated around in agony, but Malthael already jumped away to a safe distance.

Then the angel did something he had truly rarely done in his long life: he bellowed from the top of his lungs:

- STOP AND FACE MALTHAEL, ARCHANGEL OF WISDOM, FIRSTBORN OF ANU!

Maluus, who was already leaving a dozen meters away, froze. He turned around with nerve-grinding slowness, with honest bewilderment on his face.

- Malthael… you? You dare claim to be an archangel, you worm? – he snorted.

The rest of the group also stopped in dread a few meters further.

Malthael stood with parted legs, locking eyes with the demon.

- You cannot be Malthael – Maluus snarled, taking a step forward. – You are the weakest angel I have ever seen. You barely have an aura.

- You question me, mindless beast? – Malthael asked in a low voice.

He reached his free hand out and once again forced his magic to cooperate. A shape materialized among his fingers, and soon Chalad'ar itself appeared, filling the room with a soft humming. Maluus held his head slightly higher at the demonstration.

He didn't have to know that the chalice was an illusion. Malthael could not sense the bond to Chalad'ar in his soul, but he knew every detail of it, could picture it with crystal clear clarity.

"Tyrael consults the chalice. I can use it to break him."

The angel tore himself away from the unwanted memory, as he slowly regally dismissed the illusion, as if it was the real thing.

- What say you now, villain? – he held the wand in an offensive stance.

Maluus' eyes flickered to the side for a brief second. Hazir's and Lyndon's warning shouts came too late.

Something bumped against Malthael's side, not even strong enough to make him stumble. The angel stared down in disbelief at the still burning Khazra he thought had died. The beast really did die, but not before crawling away from its original spot and brushing its bleeding, not yet burning head against the dark blue tunic.

Malthael froze and watched in horror as the dark smear began spreading.

- I have yet to have an archangel in my collection – Maluus simply stated, grinning from ear to ear.

He did not expect the ice wall bursting up from the ground, cutting him off from the group, though.

Malthael stumbled back, feeling as if a horrible sickness was taking him over. Survival instinct completely took over and he barely registered the ice wall he created. Crashing against the pillar, Malthael clawed at the stone in despair, trying to shake off the growing influence. The world was shrinking rapidly around him, his own weak aura sputtering under the demon's yoke. He blurrily saw Lyndon, Abd al-Hazir and Luther rushing to him.

- Fire! Fire! – he choked, unable to say more.

Luther grabbed the wand from his hand and willed it to burst into flames. Malthael clutched the newly made torch and pressed it against his bloodied sight. The agony blasting into his mind cleared out the haze, the world came back into focus with a snap, Maluus' influence retreated. Malthael could barely gasp from the pain but refused to remove the weapon, even as Lyndon shouted at him and tried to pull away his arm.

The ice wall shook with a loud bang as Maluus threw his weight against it, making Hazir jump and scream in fear.

Malthael finally pulled the wand away with a choked cry, as he felt the demonic influence fully leaving him. The blood was completely burnt away, along with a good chunk of his tunic and skin. While it wasn't necessarily a lethal injury for an angel, it maddeningly hurt, and practically rendered him unable to move.

- You lunatic bastard! – Lyndon roared at him in helpless anger.

- Had… t—to – was all Malthael could muster at that moment.

Another crash against the ice wall, which was already on the verge of collapse. Luther screeched in alarm, helplessly bouncing in one place. Lyndon's eyes blazed green as he grabbed Malthael and hauled him onto his back.

- Luther, keep going! – he shouted at the treasure goblin then turned at the ice wall. – Hey, Maluus! Two nameless nobodies and a cowardly goblin got your prize, the worthless angel! I can see now why a mere kid had triumphed over you last time, you loser!

With that, the group turned on their heels and ran. Malthael held onto Lyndon's neck, his feet being dragged across the floor. The angel fought to remain conscious as the ice wall completely broke behind them and Maluus came charging with mad rage.

oooOOOooo

If anyone would have told Lyndon a month ago, that he would be dragging the Angel of Death away from a bloodthirsty demon inside a ruined fortress, he would have either laughed in the person's face, or kicked him in the shins then made a run for it, to escape from the mad bastard.

- GUYS, A LITTLE HELP HERE! – Lyndon roared at the ceiling.

The gods of Sanctuary apparently did not think it was time for a divine intervention, however.

- USELESS, ALL OF YOU!

- The walls c—cannot he—help – Malthael offered weakly.

- You shut the fuck up, you suicidal idiot, you! – Lyndon barked at him as he ran.

There was only one thing good about angels: their weight was laughable. Malthael, despite being 3 meters tall, did not truly hinder him in his speed, thankfully.

Luther was leading the way, occasionally starting to turn but then quickly correcting his path. It was clear he was fighting to keep his focus on the largest treasure pile, which (hopefully) was the Immortal Throne, but smaller stashes posed a distraction, no doubt.

- Keep going, Luther, keep going! – Lyndon called out, hoping to offer some support.

Hazir remained the only fighting member of the group, which on its own sounded really bad. Add the fact that he was obviously panicking, if his rapid-fire and barely understandable rambling was anything to go by, and the situation got worse. The Archivist did do his best to slow down Maluus, though: he was throwing books and papers from his tunic and his bag which turned big or attacked the demon, he even managed to set up a Letter Cannon that slightly knocked the pursuer back.

- At least Mal got his attention on us firmly! – Hazir shouted as he vaulted over a broken pillar. – He won't be losing his interest now!

Lyndon had to agree with that. The ridiculously suicidal decision of the angel at least achieved their original goal.

- It was still so stupid, though – he grumbled under his nose.

- Got any better ideas, mortal? – Malthael echoed his words back at him.

- I said shut up!

They had only one advantage in this situation: Maluus had no ranged attacks, it appeared. Otherwise the demon would have bombarded them out of existence by now. Still, he was an unstoppable force, tearing through obstacles the group had to go around or vault over. He was screaming curses which nobody was paying any attention to, probably not even Maluus himself.

Luther suddenly took a sharp turn, leading them out to the courtyard. The cold wind smacked Lyndon in the face but at least now they didn't have to zig-zag among pillars and piles of wreckage. The far end of the courtyard had a bottomless abyss, with a stone bridge spanning over it. Luther and Lyndon stormed across it with ease, somehow not losing their footing on the snow.

A loud crash forced them to stop once they were on the other side. Hazir had lagged behind them somewhat, and he was still in the middle of the bridge when Maluus reached the far end. The demon jumped and slammed down on the structure with everything he had, causing it to collapse.

- HAZIR! – Lyndon screamed as he watched the Archivist disappear with a look of pure horror on his face.

- Ffffriend!

- Run! Run! – Malthael breathed, weakly trying to drag Lyndon away from the spot.

Maluus jumped over the abyss with ease, laughing triumphantly. Lyndon felt rage bubbling up in him. He was about to turn to the monster and push Malthael off of himself, ready to fight, consequences be damned.

Rapid thumbing erupted from the abyss and a second later Abd al-Hazir rose up from the pit like a phoenix… dangling from a flying book. Still, Lyndon could not imagine a more beautiful sight right there and then. Maluus also committed the mistake of turning back and staring at the mortal he thought he had killed. Hazir positively glowed with rage as he shot up to the sky, one hand grabbing a tome from his tunic.

- FALL BEFORE MY AUTHORSHIP, VILE BEAST! – he screamed a battle cry that would have made Valor angels proud, then flung the book with all his might.

Maluus jumped back slightly but he grossly underestimated the attack. The book suddenly burst into a hundred in mid-air, and the improvised hail of writings crashed into the demon, burying him under a formidable pile.

- Go! Go! I will stay in the air while we are out here! – the Archivist gestured wildly at his friends.

- Don't scare us like that next time! – Lyndon turned around, almost jumping from joy despite his tone.

- Trust me, I truly did not plan this!

- Mortals are so foolish – Malthael mumbled, but the scoundrel could have sworn he heard relief in his voice.

Maluus quickly broke out from his prison, but the group had gained quite the lead by then. They had air superiority now: Abd al-Hazir was officially fed up with this whole thing and he was raining down his righteous fury at the demon from above. Watching him zipping across the sky, throwing books and scrolls and somehow making it work, were all a great testament for how the Archivists managed to fight off an entire Reaper invasion in Westmarch.

No doubt that if any of those defeated freaks had been reborn, they probably had unexplainable phobias of writings now.

Luther led them to the farthest end of the courtyard. The sheer size of Sescheron was absolutely ridiculous, and Lyndon started to see why the fortress fell: it was frankly far too big to be monitored fully. Bastion's Keep had been smaller, yet that size brought them victory in the end, simply because they knew what the hell was going on inside it at all times.

Still, by some sheer force of will, Luther managed to stay on path and he led them to a seemingly separate wing of the fort. On the way they had to dodge discarded carts, corpses of long dead beasts and random holes in the ground. The group was losing the lead Hazir gained for them, since Maluus simply broke through the obstacles like they weren't even there. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of running, demonic roaring and bombarding books, they reached a grand triple gate with Barbarian banners flying on either side. Granted, it looked like every other main entrance of the fort, but Luther ran through the door without hesitation. Hazir landed next to Lyndon and continued on foot.

They tore across a pretty small hall, ending up on a richly adorned stone bridge under the clear sky again.

- What the hell is up with this architecture, truly?! – Hazir cried out.

- Hard to follow – Malthael nodded, clinging to Lyndon for dear life.

Thankfully, this bridge was far more massive than the previous one, thus Maluus could not collapse it, much to the demon's dismay. Giant iron braziers lined the bridge's sides, still holding burning embers within them. Lyndon found himself hoping that it was a sign that this place held magic, but Luther found an ever better use of them. He grabbed the braziers and flung them at Maluus with astonishing speed and power, forcing the demon to slow down and dodge the deadly projectiles.

Past the bridge lied yet another building with blood red and golden banners.

- I swear to the gods if this is another bridge… – Lyndon grumbled venomously.

He knew he wouldn't be able to keep up this fleeing much further, and Hazir was in even worse shape, considering he spent so much energy back in the courtyard.

Inside Lyndon almost committed the mistake of stopping dead on his tracks. The pillar-supported ceiling was at an unbelievable height, barely visible in the cold haze that permeated everything. The ground was a series of giant pedestals rising from a bottomless pit. The floor was intricately patterned, framed by iron braces. The walls had giant demonic trophies and memorial tablets of long dead heroes covering them. Everywhere around them weapons and jars of offerings cluttered the hall. Before the group a short iron bridge stretched out, leading to a smaller but far more important pedestal. It ran into a giant metal icon edged into the ground, showing a horned helmet. A few steps of stairs rose behind it, leading up to—

- You think that stupid chair will save you from me?! – Maluus roared behind them, ramming into a pillar.

Lyndon's sixth sense flared up and he jumped, flinging Malthael further away. Behind him the stone pillar came crashing down, missing him by only a hair's length, but sending him flying. He tumbled over the iron bridge, barely grabbing the edge before he fell over.

- Got you! – Hazir shouted as he and Luther jumped there and helped him up.

Behind them Maluus shook his head, regaining his bearings from the collision. Malthael, crawling on the bridge, tried to send a bolt of magic at the demon but in his injured state he could not recollect his focus enough to actually do anything.

- Come on, Mal! – Hazir grabbed his hands and dragged him along, while Luther flung all kinds of objects at the advancing foe.

Lyndon grabbed his only remaining dependable weapon, the crossbow, and readied it. He looked behind themselves when his heel collided with the first step of stairs.

There rose the Immortal Throne. An amalgamation of stone, iron and wood in a fashion that screamed "Barbarian" in every sense of the word. It was wide, overly giant and so robust it was almost a miracle the ground did not collapse under it. The very top of the back of the throne had a carved bull-head on it, while the base was surrounded by lit candles, skulls and bones of great beasts slain. Despite the rest of the hall being littered with offerings, this pedestal was kept clear, no doubt as a sign of respect. On the throne sat a figure motionless: Kanai, no doubt, but preserved disturbingly well. He was wearing full intimidating body armor that only let his lips and the skin around it be visible, but in that patch was perfectly normal-looking, as if the guy was just taking a nap on his favorite chair, and hadn't been dead for over 20 years at this point.

Lyndon turned back as he hopped onto the stairs, and fired his weapon. His bolt flew into Maluus' shoulder who grunted in pain and began bleeding at an abnormal rate.

- Aw hell – the scoundrel lowered his weapon with dread.

He realized if he used his crossbow, he would only help Maluus. At the same time, the Immortal Throne did not look like it was doing anything. It most certainly did not blast the demon out of existence.

- Okay! Ideas?! – Hazir scrambled against the large armrest, while also trying his damnest not to touch Kanai's corpse.

- We die? – Malthael offered weakly, dragging himself up on the stairs.

- A fine plan – Maluus grinned at them, his still bleeding shoulder clearly not bothering him the slightest.

- Na-haaa! – Luther screeched defiantly and yanked a giant spiked mace out of his sack, flinging it around as a warning.

Lyndon grabbed for his backpack, trying to rummage through it for anything he could have used to help fight this beast.

A blood-curling human roar shook the hall.

From behind Maluus, a ghostly Barbarian rose from the bottomless pit, brandishing an enormous battle axe. The apparition struck down with it at the demon's exposed back, and the beast actually screamed in pain. He spun around and struck, banishing the ghost. His back had a large, black gash running across it, an injury that was not bleeding.

More battle cries filled the air and long dead Barbarians rushed forward from every conceivable angle, melting out of air and shadows, each carrying formidable weapons. They ignored the group pressed against the throne completely and threw themselves against Maluus who quickly lost himself in panic and struck blindly and without reason. His attacks vaporized ghosts but simply more took the fallen ones' places. Soon they overwhelmed and stabbed and hacked the demon to death, whose roars of pain quickly turned into whines, then moans, then gasps, then finally, silence.

Lyndon let out a breath he did not realize he was holding when he saw the demon collapse a final time onto the iron bridge, his disgusting, still not fully formed body slowly decomposing without blood. The numberless Barbarian ghosts stood around their prey without a word, then they all turned to the huddled up group. Their eyes were all kept on Lyndon, and only Lyndon.

The scoundrel felt like he had intruded into something he really shouldn't have.

- A—do they think we are intruders? – Hazir breathed, frozen with fear.

- Are we not? – Malthael asked dreadfully.

The chamber shook but the ghosts made no move to attack. Instead they drew back and slowly melted into the nothing they came from. A titanic shape of earth rose in their place, engulfing most of the abyss on the right side of the bridge. It slowly took on a broad, muscular human shape with two blazing yellow eyes.

Lyndon locked eyes with the apparition, and an unnatural chill ran down his spine. He realized with terrible dread that the gaze he had felt in his feverish dreams, that made him want to just hide, had not belonged to Maluus.

It belonged to the earth giant, now towering above the battered heroes.

Lyndon's foresight screamed at him with such sharpness it hurt and he jumped away from the Immortal Throne, to draw the attack away from his friends.

- USURPER! – the monster bellowed and struck, straight at the scoundrel.

---

Ladies and gentlemen, the single weirdest party in all the lands of Sanctuary. Go go, uh… heroes, I guess?

Honestly, one of my top fav things to do in this fanfic is coming up with ways in which a not-super-OP-Nephalem character can overcome overwhelming odds. It's really fun! Hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. ^^

I apologize for the long pause in updates. University is incredibly demanding right now. I also face the problem of my inspiration migrating to StarCraft for the time being, which means most of my ideas are in that subject, and it takes quite the concentration to stir my thoughts back to Diablo. It appears I have succeeded now.

I cannot promise updates will be more frequent from now on. As far as I can tell, there is a chance for it, but the thing I hate doing the most is lying to my audience. I do not know what the future brings. With any luck, the next update won't come over a month later.

As always, I sincerely thank you for your continued support and patience, cupcakes. You guys are the best, I could not ask for a better audience. :)

If you add the story to your Favorites or Alerts, you can see when my slow ass decides to update the fic.

Lore & Trivia corner

- The Fifth Battle of the Diamond Gates: referenced at the very beginning of this chapter, that infamous siege was the closest the Evils had ever gotten to actually invade the High Heavens, before Prime Evil Diablo rolled around. It had taken the entire angelic host to hold the Gates, and eventually, Tyrael's SIC Izual managed to lead a counterattack that weakened the demonic forces. The final victory came from the Seven Evils jumping at each others' throats over bounty they hadn't even gotten yet.

- Lorenado-Straight-Outta-Hell: it was inspired by one of our greatest Hungarian novels, Egri csillagok (Stars of Eger), which recounts the tale of our greatest last stand and victory against the invading Ottoman Empire in 1552. The small run-down fortress of Eger ("e" like in "evident") had stopped and utterly crushed the fearsome army, against all odds. Quite like Bastion's Keep in Act III. In the novel written about this feat, there is a scene where the defenders stuff a mill's wooden wheel full of gun-powder, set it on fire and rolling it down onto the Ottoman Turks. The wheel ends up taking quite a few lives, and cuts a large opening into the sieging lines.

- Luther, the military treasure goblin: it is quite evident that treasure goblins have massive physical strength, considering the ridiculous speed at which they can run while carrying their sack. I have decided to build on this observation and ask the simple question: "How dangerous a treasure goblin could be, if it actually stopped and used one of the legendary weapons hiding in its sack?" The answer: "Probably pretty big". So please enjoy military ace card Luther, the bravest of treasure goblins. :)

- Maluus' physical appearance: there is no record of how Maluus actually looks like. The closest we get to see him, is when in the comic series Sword of Justice he completely takes over the Barbarian leader Khelric, and even that was simply a twisted version of the man. I have decided to give him a rather ordinary and everyday look, mostly because I wholeheartedly believe that to fully utilize his special powers, Maluus himself cannot be a unique-looking monster. Otherwise everyone would see him come from a mile away and trebuchet/arrow-storm his ass before he gets within a kilometer's range.

- Worusk: appearing in the description of a legendary Barbarian set, Worusk' lore was set straight during a BlizzCon panel in 2013. He was a Barbarian leader who managed to unite the tribes, a feat previously unimaginable after Bul-Kathos' time. Thus Worusk earned the title "immortal king". Whether or not he was the first after the Nephalem forefather, we do not know for certain, but he more than likely had been.

- The Immortal Throne: one of the oldest and most intricate Barbarian works of art, a throne only an immortal king can sit on. Very few actually received the honor throughout history. The Immortal Throne is the foundation of the Barbarians' morale, bravery and honor. It is located in the bowels of Sescheron, and it is quite the sight to see and experience, even though there is nothing truly happening around it… except for March each year. It does, however, has a collection of Barbarian ghosts standing guard around it at all times, souls who cannot rest since their proper burial place, Mount Kaboom Arreat, is simply no more.

- King Kanai: a former member of the Council of Elders, and a promising material for immortal king. He was the chief elder of Sescheron and led his forces against Baal. He was also the last in a line of Guardians who watched over an artifact bestowed upon them by the Horadrim. That artifact later received the name "Kanai's Cube", in honor of the elder. Kanai was placed upon the Throne after his death, and if you zoom in on him in-game, you can see that he was completely preserved and looks like he could stand up and walk around any minute. Very creepy.