Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo or any of its contents. So please don't sue.
Author's note: This is my first shot at writing a fan fic. Reviews are welcome, praise and flame alike (but be constructive). Perhaps I should mention that English isn't my first language, so bear with me
The Venturing
Part II
The light that fell through the broken windows disclosed an unbelievable mess. Pews were scattered as if tossed around by some great force. Most of them were broken in two or several pieces.
Derrim drew his sword and carefully chose his steps in.
There was a strange odour that made him sick; it reminded him of rotting meat.
The altar was wrecked in two and though he wasn't religious or believed in anything more powerful than the swing of a sword, the sight of diabolical symbols that had been painted in blood across the walls and the holy artefacts that were mocked in such a reckless way that Derrim felt a lump in his throat of disgust.
"The sanctity of this place has been fouled!" he growled through clenched teeth.
According to Ogden, there would be an entrance to the labyrinth beneath the church somewhere in the sacristy but he did not know exactly where.
"Why this church? Why Tristram?" he thought.
He wondered if the monsters knew he was coming. The dead silence frightened him a bit.
"Thinking will not slay those monsters. Charge is the best defence," he thought and moved to the sacristy to see if there was anything that could be likened to an entrance to the Labyrinth.
It was even darker in there and Derrim wondered why he had not thought of bringing a torch.
After stumbling a few times over some unidentified objects he decided to wait until his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. Soon after he came to a bookshelf that he threw over down on the floor and found a small door behind it.
He grabbed the ring handle and tried to open it but it was stuck and Derrim could not budge it. It took all of his strength and some bending with the sword to get the door open.
Inside there was a narrow stairway and the smell of rottening meat was even stronger.
He stopped, listening for sounds of anything at all, but there was none so he began to go down the stairs one step at a time.
Derrim's eyes had slowly adjusted to the darkness below and he could distinct grey shapes in the black and he marvelled over how huge the Labyrinth was. There were solid walls and a brick floor leading him to ponder how long time it would take to build such a thing.
A snuffling sound brought back his attention to the current situation and he stopped dead in his tracks. The snuffling came closer, straight towards him, like a blood hound sniffing the tracks of its prey.
Derrim felt his heart beat so hard and fast he feared it would break free out of its ribbed cage.
And then he felt something crawling around his knees and instinctively kicked whatever it was. A quacking sound was heard and then the beast attacked him again. This time Derrim was prepared and gave it a hard blow to the head with the broad side of the sword, crushing its skull.
A closer look disclosed that what had attacked him was no bigger than a cat or a small dog, but it was neither. Derrim had never seen such an animal that now lay before his feet, not with this much... evil written all over its ugly face.
"A rat." he thought. "Is this what the town of Tristram have feared all this time? Is this what had slain the would be heroes prior to my arrival? No, there must be bigger ferocities here." and in thought he returned to the slain townsman he had found outside the church. He had spoken of "The Butcher", some great demon that had killed nearly half of the few remaining men in the town led by the Archbishop Lazarus himself.
He slowly sneaked around a corner and found a staircase leading further down into the labyrinth.
Derrim went down; his ears were pricked up for any sound of enemies. He rested at the foot of the stairs.
Then there was a moaning sound behind him as from a deep grave and he rapidly jumped forward and turned around.
The sight made Derrim scream. It appeared to be a living corpse, moving with immensely slow motions towards him. The look in the red, glimmering eyes was empty and the grave like moaning sound made Derrim's skin crawl. The corpse reached for Derrim's neck and before he could do anything, he was locked in a firm grip.
Derrim panicked. He dropped the sword on the floor and started clawing with his fingers on the corpse's arms, desperate for air.
"This is it," he thought. "Now I'm done for. I wish I've never returned to this forsaken hell hole."
Gillian sat down on a stool back in the kitchen and rested her feet for a second. Business was slow nowadays.
Ogden's wife, Garda, was busying herself with baking some bread. Her stout, jovial personality was comforting to Gillian in this time of despair.
"I heard a new adventurer has arrived" Garda said.
"Yes, he went down into the labyrinth today. I don't expect we'll see him again."
"You'll never know, that young man could be the one in your grandmother's dream"
Gillian fidgeted uncomfortably on the stool she was sitting on. She did not quite know how to be when it came to her grandmother's ability. She could sometimes foresee things in her dreams and not seldom the precognitions came to be true.
A few nights ago the old woman's screaming had awoken Gillian. She had rushed in to her grandmother to wake her up from the nightmare she was having. The old woman was shivering with fear and could not speak for several minutes. Then Gillian finally understood that she had dreamt of the hero coming to town and saving them.
"It's alright. You said he was saving us all, weren't you?" Gillian tried to calm her grandmother down.
"Those who wage battle against demons may find that it is not the body that take the greatest scars."
And that was all the old woman was willing to say about her dream.
Gillian feared that the dream was yet another precognition.
Derrim found that hanging in the grip of an undead and not quite be able to reach the floor with his feet was a really unpleasant experience.
For a split second he wished that he had payed more attention during the mental training so he at least could have enhanced his aura into a thorny shield.
And then he remembered the Holy bolt. A bolt to banish the undead, something he actually had managed to learn because it was one of the combat skills.
He forced himself to relax the muscles though the situation was desperate. Then he focused hard and a called upon the power to rise from within him and manifesting itself into a blue bolt. It shot right out of his hands and hit the corpse in the chest.
They both tumbled to the floor and Derrim gasped for breath, his throat hurting by the air.
He lay there for several minutes until his breathing returned to normal and then stood up, reached for his sword and went on further into the labyrinth.
After hours of fending off demons and monsters of every shape and size, he sank down with his back against the wall to rest. Surprisingly enough, the only injuries he had suffered was some small cuts and bruises. Most of the time he had just barely made it out alive.
Derrim was weary and his muscles ached. He wondered if he should cast a town portal spell and go back to town for some rest, but then decided that this short, well needed rest would have to make due.
Derrim let his thoughts wander and the thought of Gillian came to his mind. She had not wanted him to venture down here because of the danger and terror and, indeed, there was more of that than Derrim had expected.
The concern for his life had moved him. He was not spoiled with that and never had been.
Derrim surprised himself with the longing to see her again, to tell her that. He wanted to fight his way back to her the very instant.
He sighed and reluctantly prepared himself to go on.
Then he realized he had been staring into a hole in the opposite wall for several minutes. He hastily got up from the floor and examined it. It appeared to be a tunnel, and it was just barely big enough for Derrim to squeeze through.
"This might be shooting an arrow blindfolded, but this is the closest thing I have come to something that could lead me to a well. So, here it goes," he thought and crawled in.
"Hope I don't get stuck half way in," he muttered and cursed the soil that trickled down his neck.
But soon the little tunnel seemed to widen and he could see a faint light up ahead.
Just as Derrim was about to squeeze himself out of the tunnel, he saw a hideous beast, blocking his way. It had the body of a man, but the feet and head was that of a goat. It had a huge mace in its hand and was walking back and forth in front of the hole as if standing guard. Before Derrim could decide what to do, the goat man had discovered his presence and started poking at him with its mace.
As fast as he could, Derrim started to crawl backwards into the tunnel.
The goat man soon followed, and when Derrim was clear out of the tunnel he had but to wait for the goat man to show its ugly head. With a swift swing of his sword, he had separated the demon's head from its body.
"Thank the Light you are all so stupid" Derrim said.
And then he pulled out the demon's body and crawled back through the tunnel.
He got up on his feet and looked around. He had ended up in a small cave. The stench was the same as the town's well, but Derrim could also feel the smell of fresh water around.
He knew there would probably be other foul demons around, so he readied his sword and went to explore the cave.
Soon he came upon an underground stream. It had the same ill colour of yellow as the water up in the well. Suddenly Derrim was once again under attack and he did his best to keep the monsters from harming him.
When he finally managed to finish the demons off, he noticed how the water sprung out with a clear spring, washing all the filth away.
"The mere presence of the demons caused the water to be contaminated?" he thought in disbelief.
He looked around, but there were no more monsters to be found.
Derrim felt proud of his accomplishment and he could see the townsfolk gratitude vividly in front of him.
He was soon back in the Labyrinth again, and decided he would make for one more level before he went back up to town to receive their thanks.
When Ogden had spoken of as much as up to between four and five levels, Derrim had only shaken his head in disbelief.
But now, when he was at the foot of the stairs to the fourth one, the thought did not seem all that impossible. And he agreed with Ogden, it was an excellent place to hide!
This new level of the Labyrinth gave no surprises in displaying different monstrosities. Derrim had gotten used to their evil looks and tricks. His lithe body was swift and his sword sharp and only that helped a long way.
"Aah, fresh meat!" a demonic voice cried out and Derrim found himself face to face with a demon nearly twice his own size, with a cleaver great as an axe.
It came towards him with great speed and Derrim's only choice was to throw himself sideways to escape the swinging of the cleaver. The monster chased after him through the halls of the Labyrinth.
Derrim despaired. How could he ever hope to beat such a demonic creature?
The chasing went on for what Derrim felt like hours and he became so worn out that he tripped over with fatigue.
"Prepare yourself for death, mortal," the demon howled and took a swing at him with his great cleaver.
Derrim managed to block it with his little buckler that cracked in to two pieces and hurt his arm.
The demon took yet another swing, but this time Derrim was more prepared and he rolled over to the side. Then he counter swung his sword, cutting the demons arm right off. The Butcher gave a furious cry. Derrim quickly got up and took the cleaver from the floor and with all of his strength; he buried it in the demon's chest.
Derrim sheathed his sword and took the cleaver for a trophy. Then he cast a town portal spell that opened a blue oval portal. Derrim stumbled through it and fell to the ground right where he and Cain had buried his portal stone.
"I will just lay here for a minute and catch my breath," he thought and closed his eyes.
He found himself falling down a deep abyss, a grave. He saw the demons leaning over him, filling his vision. They laughed at his terror and panic which he fought hard not to display.
Derrim tried climbing up but when his hand reached the edge of the grave one of the goat men stepped on his hand with his hoof. Derrim screamed with pain and fell back down again. The demons began throwing down heaps of dark soil and dirt, filling the grave very rapidly. When he tried to scream, he could hear the demon's frenzied laughter as from a distance.
When the darkness faded, a beautiful, blonde woman clad in a long white dress came towards him. She looked at Derrim with tears in her eyes.
"Why are you so sad?" he asked.
"I am sad for you, my son. There is no more hope for you."
"Why do you say that?"
"You should not have taken the sword."
"I am using the sword for a good cause. I am saving Tristram!"
"It was wrong to steal the sword!"
"No! NO!" he cried back as he ran from his mother
"It's all right. Calm down!"
Derrim opened his eyes. He was back in his room at the inn. Gillian
was sitting on his bed and behind her Derrim hinted Cain, and another man he did not recognize.
"What happened?" he said with a rattled voice, his throat feeling like a desert.
"Some of the lads found you lying by the crossing. You've been out for two days,"
Gillian's soft voice was soothing and Derrim relaxed.
"Indeed you are lucky to be alive. Your wounds were so infected that I did not have much hope for you at all" the unknown man smiled.
"This is Pepin, our healer," Cain spoke for the first time. "We found a cleaver big as an axe beside you. Is it true as we assume that you have slain this demon that they called 'The Butcher'?"
"Yes."
"And our well is clear with fresh water, is that also your doing?" Pepin asked.
Derrim nodded.
"That is great news indeed, a real victory to celebrate," the healer said and clapped his hands.
"I am not finished yet. There are still monsters left beneath the church that I have to take care of," Derrim said and tried to get out of his bed when a wave of dizziness came over him.
"Not so fast young man. You still need to recover your strength and I think we can all safely say that you have earned as much as a few days of bed rest," Pepin said.
Derrim felt too tired to argue and sank back to the pillow again.
"Get some sleep and you will regain your strength in no time," Gillian said.
Before they all had left the room, Derrim was asleep.
When he awoke, the room was dark save for a lit candle. His head felt better than it had for days. His left arm was bandaged and was throbbing with a dull pain
The flickering light caused shadows running across the walls and the ceiling. Derrim watched them and let his thoughts wander. He refused himself to think of the nightmare he had had, instead he toyed with the idea of how grateful the townspeople would be when he had won this battle against the demons.
Suddenly, he realized the shadows were no longer playing on the wall but seemed to have stepped out into the room. They began to take the shapes of the hideous beasts he had seen down in the Labyrinth, one of the scavengers he had first encountered and a skeleton with a bow slung on its back.
Derrim reached for his sword at the side of the bed, but found it was not there.
The demons just grinned at him and slowly crept closer to the bed.
"What do you want?"
Their red eyes glimmered with scornful contempt
"What do you want? Go away!" he cried in panic.
The foul beasts just seemed to laugh at him and with a growl the small one jumped up on the bed.
Derrim, though embarrassed about it, screamed at the top of his lungs.
Gillian soon came rushing in with Cain closely following her and the demons instantly dissolved.
"Where's my sword! Give me my sword!"
"Calm down. It is over here by the wall." Gillian said and handed it to him.
"What happened? Why were you screaming?"
"The demons. They were in here."
They looked at him in disbelief.
"I'm telling you they were in here, on my bed!"
"You must've had another nightmare." Cain finally said.
Derrim fought the wish to argue and instead sank back to the pillow.
"It is good that you are awake though, we need to speak," the old man said.
"About what?
Cain slowly sat down on the chair beside the bed. He, who had seemed so vigorous earlier, suddenly appeared to have aged many years in only minutes.
"Maybe the time has come to reveal who I am" he said. "My name is Deckard Cain, and I am the last descendant of an ancient brotherhood sworn to fight the demonic forces of hell."
He paused for a while and then went on.
"Curse me for a fool! I should have foreseen the archbishops' treachery even when the king's son Albrecht was kidnapped. The heavens only know what has happened to him. He has probably been used for dark rituals… or worse. You must hurry and rescue Albrecht from the hands of Lazarus. The prince and the people of this kingdom are counting on you!"
Derrim suddenly felt the burden of responsibility grow heavy on his shoulders. There were so many lives depending on him.
It was a cold and windy day when Derrim was to set out and go through the portal again. Pepin the healer had salved his arm with a painkiller, but how long that would last, Derrim did not know. The healer had objected to Derrim going down back into the Labyrinth, but there was no way of stopping him.
He had a brand new steel armour, a shiny helmet, and a new shield donated by the townsfolk.
Derrim looked around at all the people who had gathered outside the inn to see him off. He saw hope in their eyes, and he realized that that's what he was to them. Hope. No one else had come this far and survived. The thought brought tears to his eyes and he swore to himself that he would be worthy of their trust.
Gillian was standing in the doorway to the inn. Derrim walked up to her.
"Gillian… When all this is over, I will buy you a stoup of ale here at the inn."
"Well then, you better make it out alive then."
"Don't worry. Heroes do not die" he said with a smile
He started to walk towards the portal and the people gathered followed him there as he went through and the portal closed behind him.
Seeing the stone walls of the Labyrinth again and the Butchers' corpse gave Derrim a sick feeling to his stomach.
For a brief second, he thought of the possibility go back to town and give up, but he pushed that thought back before even thinking it to the end.
He could not go back now, not when he so proudly promised them victory.
With a sigh, he drew his sword and prepared find some kind of staircase to go further down.
After hours of searching after a staircase, Derrim realized that there was nothing of the kind to be found. The closest he could find that resembled a stair was a large hole in the wall as if someone just had dug it with his bare hands. It sloped abruptly downwards, and Derrim took a few trying steps in.
As he went down it, he realised that it was getting significantly hotter; the air was stuffier and harder to breathe. Sweat broke out underneath his new armour.
Suddenly he found that the roughly carved steps in the soil were not there anymore.
Instead he stepped on something hard and white.
"I must be getting close" Derrim muttered when he realized that what he was walking on, and indeed the whole structure of the walls, was made of bone.
Almost instantly he was attacked by what seemed to be an eight feet tall worm with long blades in each of its four arms. There was a ringing sound when Derrim's sword met the knives. Then he held up his shield for the next attack and quickly stabbed the worm with the sword and with a shriek it fell to the ground.
Derrim had hardly drawn his breath when a yellow bolt flashed by his ear. He quickly spun around to find an exquisitely beautiful woman with long black hair, huge black wings tinged with blue and above all she was completely, utterly naked.
He stared at her, unable to find a thought in his head. She just smiled a malicious smile and raised her arm and sent another bolt. It hit Derrim right in the chest and he tumbled backwards.
His skin burned and he gasped for the air that the bolt had knocked out of his lungs. Then he noticed that the woman was standing above him, still smiling.
"Your adventure has gone far enough, little friend. It ends here!" she said and raised her arm towards Derrim's chest again.
"No". He whispered with the little air he had gained, and just when she sent away the yellow bolt he managed to roll over on the side and the bolt hit the bare ground. Derrim quickly got up on his feet. The demon raised her upper lip and exposed two white fangs, and in anger that her prey had gotten away, she growled.
Derrim was panting heavily and his chest hurt like seven hells. The demon sent another bolt that he just managed to dodge. But when he tried to go after her, she ran away and he had to chase her through the endless halls.
Finally he managed to get her cornered and he instantly killed her, feeling greatly satisfied that the frustrating hunt was over.
Derrim slowly kneeled to the ground. He was tired and his chest felt like it was on fire.
"It probably needs a healer's attention, but can I afford to go back one more time?" he thought to himself.
He felt he lacked the strength to cast a town portal spell and instead he crawled in to the corner where the demon he had just slain still lay and then he curled up, just for a short rest, hoping that no one or nothing would notice him.
Derrim woke up with a start. He had not realized that he had fallen asleep.
"Very bad" he muttered. "Some hero that gets slain in his sleep."
He rose and slowly straightened his aching muscles.
He picked up his sword and went off to explore the eerie halls.
After a while Derrim noticed a sign on the floor. It was a huge pentagram in bone.
As he stepped up into it a red portal opened.
He had learned as much when trained as a Paladin that red portals did not lead back to town.
"This cannot be good." He thought to himself. "But my mission here is to find the prince and so I will do."
And then he walked into the red portal.
He found himself standing on a teleport ring in a room much like the Labyrinth. Everything was dead quiet and he could hear his own heartbeat, pounding like a drum.
At the other side of the room, Derrim could hint a door and slowly began to move towards it, trying to be as quiet as possible in his steel armour.
He slowly but surely opened the door.
The open door revealed another one of those winged nightmares he had encountered before. Only this one had red wings and hair red as a raging fire and she shot a red bolt that burned a hole in the door.
Without thinking, Derrim instantly threw himself at her and killed her.
Then he found himself standing in the middle of a long corridor and he crept closely to the wall to the left. His venturing was soon stopped by a red bolt that hit the wall right before his nose.
At his left there was more of the same demon he had just killed. But he soon realized that there were no way he could reach them, they were behind bars. He could only try to dodge the bolts that kept coming at him. One hit him in the shoulder and it felt like it was struck by ice. Derrim grabbed his hurt shoulder and ran.
He came to two doors that seemed to be leading to the same room, so he opened one of them and went in. It was narrow corridor that seemed to turn left up ahead. It did not take long until his shield was hit by another red bolt.
Derrim held his shield high, and went in and ended up in an inferno of red bolts coming from everywhere around him. He blindly swung his sword at first, but did not hit anything. Then he realized he had to try for a different approach. By experience he knew the only way to kill them was to hunt them down one at a time.
He crept closely to the wall with his shield held high against the bolts, and soon he came to the corner where the room turned left.
When one of the winged women came to close, Derrim instantly killed her with a swing of his sword. That seemed to scare the others off, they scattered around the room and Derrim took his chance and started chasing after the closest one.
After an hour of chasing, he had killed all of the demons in the room. Almost his entire body felt like ice after the hits it had taken. He sank down to the floor, shaking and shivering and his teeth were chattering.
When it seemed as an eternity had gone by, Derrim slowly rose, and the cold was not as bad anymore.
Opposite to him, in a little alcove in the corridor, he could discern two rings. One to the left and one to the right. When he took a closer look, he discovered that they were so called teleport rings and even with open spell books next to them each on a pedestal.
Derrim had learned enough when trained as a Paladin to know to handle teleport rings with care. So instead he withdrew to explore what was right of the alcove. He had seen two doors much like them he came in from.
He carefully opened the door and waited, but nothing happened so he dared to go out.
There was yet another corridor in front of him and if Derrim calculated right, which he thought he did, he could come around and end up where he started.
He silently snuck out, carefully listening for any sound. In the distance he could hear the familiar chatter of those winged demons. Despair tore at his heart. He was still shivering from the hits he had taken before and he did not know if he could take much more. Then the thought of Cain came to his mind. And Gillian. And he forced himself to take one more step.
Further down in the corridor, he could see a red wing flapping against some bars.
"So, I can't reach them through there" Derrim thought and silently went back to examine the teleport rings.
Back in the room, he cursed the fact that he had not payed more attention when the Brothers had taught of the Secret language, the tongue of spells. Then he would at least know where he would end up if he spoke the spells that were in the books.
The only two words that were familiar to him were Daimon, demon, and Jenoda. Beware.
Derrim examined the other book and the same two words were there too. He went back to the teleport ring from which he had come and stood upon it but nothing happened. Derrim cursed quite a while.
After he was done cursing every demon in the seven hells, he went back to the room with the two teleport rings. He knew he had to try one of them; the question was simply which one.
After contemplating a while he chose the right one and stepped up onto it. Its signs instantly began to glow and he turned to the book and spoke in a loud, firm voice:
"Jenoda! Haverinos tam daimon!"
When he opened his eyes he saw five of the red winged demons glaring at him. Scornful smiles revealed white fangs. Then one of them slowly raised its arm and a red bolt shot out of its open palm. Derrim instinctively raised his shield just in time. Then with a cry, he threw himself at the demons. The winged nightmares scattered and Derrim had but to follow them and kill them one at a time while he was under constant attack of red bolts.
He kept moving so that he would be a harder target. Though he got a few hits, he was overall satisfied when the demons lay dead on the floor.
Derrim soon discovered that he had ended up in one of the smaller rooms behind bars, although the bars were gone now.
"I guess the other teleport ring will get me to the other room" he thought and went back to the room with the teleport rings. He stood upon the other one and spoke the spell:
"Jenoda! Veritos du daimon!"
As he already had figured out he ended up in the other room facing more demons.
After about an hour of chasing them he had finished them all off.
"What now?" he thought. "How do I get out of here?"
He went back to try the two teleport rings but nothing happened. Then Derrim remembered the teleport ring he had first come from and went back to try that.
Instantly he felt that he was being teleported somewhere.
What he saw made the very blood grow cold in his veins.
There was a man in a long blue robe; it was indeed the Archbishop Lazarus himself. In one hand he had a long staff, and in the other was a knife raised high in the air, ready to strike.
Before him, lying on a coffin was a boy whose chest was covered in blood. Derrim could not tell if he was alive or not.
The Archbishop looked up and saw Derrim. He gave him a malicious smile.
"Abandon your foolish quest. You are too late to save the child. Now you will join him, in Hell."
And then Lazarus directed his staff towards Derrim and a yellow bolt shot out of it.
Derrim parried with his shield, and made a dash towards the Archbishop with his sword ready.
But when he reached Lazarus, he dissolved into thin air, leaving a surprised Derrim behind.
He spun around and saw the Archbishop standing behind him. Derrim quickly threw himself at him and managed to strike with his sword. And thus, the chase went on, until Derrim could strike the final blow and watch the Archbishop Lazarus turn into dust.
"Your madness ends here, betrayer!" he said to the pile of ashes.
He examined the boy lying motionless on the coffin. There was no life left in him.
Derrim felt weary, as if he had gone through fifteen rounds of swordplay in the backstreets of Kurast. He decided to cast a town portal spell.
The first one he met when walking back to town was Cain. Derrim told him what he had experienced.
"Your story is quite grim, my friend" Cain said. "Lazarus will surely burn in hell for his horrific deed. But the boy you speak of is not our prince. I fear Albrecht may yet be in danger. The symbol of power that you speak of must be a portal into the very heart of the Labyrinth. Know this; the evil you move against is the Lord of Terror, known to mortal men as Diablo. He was imprisoned in the Labyrinth many centuries ago. You must go through the portal and destroy Diablo before it is too late!"
Derrim froze when he heard the name Diablo.
"Fine" he said finally. "But I will need some rest before I venture through the portal"
"There is no time to rest, young man" Cain said. "Time is moving against us, you must hurry!"
Derrim sighed and turned around to go trough the town portal. As he went trough it, he heard Cain's voice calling from behind.
"Remember, victory is your only option!"
He was back at the huge pentagram. It was now pulsating with a red glow. In the middle of it was a dark hole.
"I guess this is the way down to Diablo himself" Derrim thought. He took a deep breath and jumped through the hole.
The first thing he became aware of was the numerous enemies that surrounded him. Various kinds of hell spawned demons were glaring at him.
Derrim gave a war cry and bolted towards the closest one. Bolts were coming from all around him, hitting him with both hot and cold.
He soon realised that there was no way of beating everyone, so he started to run, looking for a way out.
He ran and ran, with the bolts hitting him from everywhere. And then he stumbled upon a lever made of bone. Not knowing what else he could do, Derrim pulled the lever.
"What happened?" he thought. But seeing no immediate change, he started to run again.
After running for what seemed hours, Derrim came upon another lever.
He pulled it, but was to weary to run again. Instead he swung his sword, and tried to kill as many as he could.
Suddenly, a demon twice his own height stood before him. Its skin was crimson, and horns were protruding out from its back and face.
Derrim swung his sword, knocking the demon back, but it only came forward again.
Flames shot out of the demon's hands, hitting Derrim's shield.
Derrim stabbed and stabbed blindly with his sword, thinking of nothing else but to kill this horrible demon.
And so, with all of the strength he could muster, he stabbed the demon right through. Blood came gushing out of its chest and a terrible demonic cry was heard.
Derrim looked upon the demon and realised that it was Diablo – The Lord of Terror he had slain.
A tremendous feeling of relief came over him.
And as he examined the corpse closer, he saw a stone glimmering in the demon's forehead. Derrim pulled out his dagger and managed to poke the stone out. On one end it was round, but the other end was sharp and pointy like a knife. The stone had an ill colour of yellow.
As he held the stone in his hand, the corpse began to wither until there was nothing left but a little boy.
Derrim put his fingers to the boy's throat to check for a pulse, but there was none. The boy was cold and lifeless. He closed the boy's eyes, and held the hilt of his sword to his chest in honour of the boy for a few minutes.
And so a vision came over him so strong that he gasped for air. Suddenly he realised with an almost painful clarity what the name of his sword should be. Derrim raised his sword high in the air and cried: "Sword, your name shall be Doom Song!"
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