Cassius Lange
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Midnight Bounties 4 - Chapter 24
🕑 Added 2025-07-23 11:00:05 +0000 UTCThe fuck I would, though. Go home I meant. The moment I relaxed just the tiniest bit, another problem came bashing its ugly head against the door. The tug of the souls whined into my head even before Morgefah’s entrails stopped drooping off my armor. A whole lot of them, too. Despite the previous experiences, this gush of psychic power almost made me lose my mind seconds after I had finished the single biggest accomplishment in my life.
No rest for Frank.
[WARNING: Souls begging for the Everdark 1000/1000]
[DESCRIPTION: You are out of time]
As one the voices spoke but a single word, and even that was superfluous, I already knew what I had to do.
“Come now,” they said.
I didn’t answer. I looked up at Arstemion, only then noticing the chipped horn on his head. Who knew how many times Alevia had killed him before he managed to follow the squishy little god and his legion into the prison.
“One more thing left to do,” I said. “And then I’m gone. You got any idea how I can go back to my own world?”
The demon general looked to his counterpart, Tarnon, and they both nodded.
“There is a way.”
“Cryptic, uncertain, lacking any real substance…a proper demon’s promise.”
“I don’t understand,” Arstemion said.
“Forget it. Just make sure everything’s ready for when I’m back, alright?”
“It will be done as you command,” the Demon General replied.
“Hah,” I chuckled. How the tables have turned. For years it has been do this do that, find this, kill him, and of course, obey. The sun was finally shining on ol’ Frank’s lot.
“None of you is the least bit curious what it is I have to do?” I asked.
“Your wishes are your own, Spellmonger.”
“Well…good. Wolf, stay here for a moment and be nice to the demons. Don’t eat anyone.”
The deviltail snorted, unhappy with my command. Tough tits, boy. This one he needed to sit out.
Despite the urgency of the soul’s tone, I stopped to check my Deeproot. I felt very different after the fight. I knew I had gained an immense stat increase. Every fiber of my being had changed and for the better at that. Gods, I felt like I could punch through city walls. This must have been what Castelian and the others felt like all the time. No wonder they didn’t take shit from anyone.
My Deeptroot was absolutely stuffed with messages, so I took it in stride. The demon legions behind me began talking and arguing as I dove into my notifications. Peace wouldn’t come easily to the hordes of Hell. A couple thousand years of war certainly left some unsolved grudges on the table but they had all the time in the world to settle it all.
[You have slain: Avatar of Alevia]
[You have received a flat +3 levels toward your SPELLMONGER CLASS]
[CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE LEVELED UP!]
[SPELLMONGER LEVEL: 73]
[You have gained +7 STAMINA stat]
[You have gained +8 STRENGTH stat]
[You have gained +7 AGILITY stat]
[You have gained +5 INTELLECT stat]
[SPELLMONGER CLASS EXPERIENCE: 11,200/68,000]
That wasn’t even most of it. The flat three levels were entirely overshadowed by what I got from killing Alevia and Morgefah.
[You have slain: Alevia the God of Light]
[You have received a flat +5 levels toward your SPELLMONGER CLASS]
[CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE LEVELED UP!]
[SPELLMONGER LEVEL: 78]
[You have gained +11 STAMINA stat]
[You have gained +12 STRENGTH stat]
[You have gained +12 AGILITY stat]
[You have gained +7 INTELLECT stat]
[You have gained 300% resistance to light magic spells]
[You have gained a new unique spell: TEARS OF LIGHT]
[Tears of Light]
[DESCRIPTION: Evoke the dispersed powers of the Light God turn them into spears of powerful light that fill the heavens. Rain down the sorrow of a dead god upon your enemies.]
“Light magic,” I muttered, clenching my fist.
I could sense a new strain of power along with the insane stat increase coursing through me. Tendrils of white magic crackled along my fist and up my arm. It felt strange to say the least, to wield that which has caused me so much fucking pain over the years.
“Fey,” I whispered, and a smile stretched across my bloodied face. Maybe now the whole Ashpit wouldn’t light up whenever we touched.
“And now let’s see what your death has brought, Morgefah.”
[You have slain: Morgefah the Dark Lord]
[You have received a flat +5 levels toward your SPELLMONGER CLASS]
[CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE LEVELED UP!]
[SPELLMONGER LEVEL: 83]
[You have gained +12 STAMINA stat]
[You have gained +12 STRENGTH stat]
[You have gained +12 AGILITY stat]
[You have gained +7 INTELLECT stat]
[You have gained 300% resistance to dark magic spells]
[You have gained a new unique spell: PLAINS OF DARKNESS]
[Plains of Darkness]
[DESCRIPTION: Draw on the power of the Dark Lord and summon a field of razor-sharp tentacles to entangle, bash, toss, and attack your enemies.]
I snickered at the description. Spears from heaven and tentacles from hell. It sounded like a nice combination and I was eager to test it. How I would draw on the power of the Dark Lord, however, was questionable since most of him was still stuck to my armor.
“Sankta Varath,” I muttered, back on my home.
Who knew in what state the city even was. The death of Alevia must have had an impact on the Quinta but even so, the vast majority of their power wasn’t coming from gods or magic, it came from the sheer number of swords and shields on the field.
There were two more notifications I had to check.
[CONGRATULATIONS! YOU’VE SLAIN BOTH PRIME GODS!]
[YOUR STATS HAVE INCREASED BY 20%]
[YOU HAVE BEEN AWARDED: 3 x MAX OUT!]
[MAX OUT: Maxes out a secondary skill]
“No way,” I said, almost unable to hold back my grin.
Now that was something I hadn’t expected and it would definitely be a tough choice at that. The only thing I knew for sure I wouldn’t max out was my carpentry skill for the simple reason that I just enjoyed the work too much. I thought for a moment and hummed as I walked.
I had Cooking but I didn’t care for that at all. There was waitering, which I cared for even less, Small Talk which…well, had its uses in the club but didn’t do much, Persuasion, Haggling, and Animal Handling. Since I had the bracelet Snowdog gave me, I didn’t need to max out Persuasion. As long as I was immune to other people’s fuckery, I’d be fine.
I made my choices as the notification wouldn’t go away.
[CONGRATULATIONS: You’ve reached GRANDMASTER LEVEL in ANIMAL HANDLING!]
[CONGRATULATIONS: You’ve reached GRANDMASTER LEVEL in HAGGLING!]
[CONGRATULATIONS: You’ve reached GRANDMASTER LEVEL in HOSPITALITY!]
With Haggling I knew I could squeeze even the worst of Sankta Varath for their hard-earned cash and since Hospitality increased my income from the club, it was a no brainer. Finally, I picked Animal Handling for the simple reason that Wolf had proved to be so much more than just a mount, but a proper friend and a fighter at that.
I looked over my shoulder to my deviltail.
“I love you!” the voice of my mount echoed through my mind.
“You can speak now?”
“I love you a lot! I’m very hungry.”
“Holy shit,” I chuckled. “I can talk to animals.”
“My Lord?” Arstemion asked, seemingly confused as if thinking I was talking to him.
“I’m not your lord…never mind,” I said, waving him away. “Wolf, I’ll be right back, boy.”
“I will miss you!” the deviltail said, sticking his tongue out.
There was now a whole host of additional notifications in my Deeproot that explained all the bonuses I had gotten from the grandmaster level of my secondary skills, but I thought I’d check that another time. There was one more notification, however, that blinked differently than the others so I went over it,
[You’ve acquired a new title: Slayer of Gods]
[SLAYER OF GODS: You will now appear as a demi-god threat level to every creature in the world. Beware, not everyone will meet your title with respect]
Shit, it wasn’t like I didn’t have enough enemies already. Having a threat level indicator put a target on my back for every up-and-coming adventurer out there. Though I couldn’t even imagine what they had to bring to the table for me to worry about.
“Bring it on, you adventuring cunts,” I chuckled.
“My Lord?” Arstemion said.
“I’m not—I wasn’t talking to you. Take care of Wolf for a minute. Feed him something. Maybe a few of the dead or something. I’ll be back.”
Just before I returned to Morgefah’s chamber, I checked my stats as, well, I needed to see it all for myself.
BASIC INFORMATION
NAME
Frank Midnight
RACE
Human
CLASS
Spellmonger
LEVEL
83
STATUS INFORMATION
STRENGTH
151
STAMINA
149
AGILITY
148
INTELLECT
131
And that was just the raw stuff without the bonuses from my gear. I smiled at the lunacy of it all. Papa came to mind for some reason. The old boss of the Borough’s Kids would shit his dirty pants if he saw me now. I made a mental note to give the geezer a visit one day, then made my way back into Morgefah’s room.
The tentacles in his chamber had shriveled and dried up turning grey. The pinkish pool wasn’t bubbling anymore, it had hardened and turned into a kind of goo. The coffin in which Morgefah had spent an eternity was wide open, looking like a flesh wound, not to say it looked like something else...
Clear liquid slowly dripped from it into the pink stuff beneath. I noticed a strange looking door behind the coffin. It seemed ajar for some reason and white-blue light came seeping through. There was no doubt in my mind as to where it would lead me.
“One last thing,” I said, walking through and finding a strange, rusty staircase that was twisting downward from where the light was coming.
As I neared the bottom I could hear soft whispers, hundreds of them talking over each other. There was no mistaking it, I was closing in on the souls or whatever they were. I walked through another half-open door and entered a massive underground room. I was somewhat surprised to see the walls weren’t made of those metallic plates and the floor was rough and rocky just like the cavernous walls. It seemed as though it wasn’t even originally part of Morgefah’s fortress but was dug out later for some reason I would hopefully find out soon.
At the far side of the cavern, however, was more of Faydar fuckery. The entire wall was flat and seemingly made of some kind of glass through which that white-blue light shone. It was separated by hexagonal lines like a beehive. A pedestal sat in front of it with some strange levers and buttons covered in cobwebs and dust.
As I approached it, the whispers suddenly stopped. I noticed some kind of shadows moving behind the glass panels. Sometimes it seemed as though there were faces, or maybe it was just my imagination.
“I’m here,” I said, pulling free a cigar.
Despite the immense increase in levels and stats, I noticed my hand was shaking. The dayburn was…well, burning through me still and I slowly started noticing the pain in my empty eye socket again. But that was only fair. You couldn’t kill two gods and not expect to be shaking a bit afterwards.
“You have done it, Spellmonger,” a voice boomed through the cavern.
“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”
“You have destroyed him and freed yourself.”
“Don’t forget I destroyed Alevia too and freed the demon legions,” I said, puffing out a waft of smoke.
It felt delicious. Shivers shot up my back from the feeling. Gods, if I ever deserved a cigar…
“Now you can finally free us too, and by doing so, free the rest of your world.”
I nodded, thinking about those words. Morgefah had promised something similar.
“And how would I do that?”
“The console in front of you, Spellmonger. All you need to do is initiate the sequence we tell you, and your world will be forever free of the Faydar. Your world will no longer be here just to entertain the Galaxy. You will finally be your own.”
I let the words swirl through my mind for a while and sighed.
“That sounds interesting.”
A sort of sloshing sound washed through the room and for some reason it felt like the souls weren’t happy with what I said.
“Do it, free us all!”
“Sure, but before I do,” I said, waiting for another reaction. This time the cavern filled with nervous whispers. “I have questions I need answered. Morgefah was surprisingly stingy when it came to explaining things.”
Silence fell over the room as the white-blue hexagonal panels softly pulsed.
“Ask and we will answer.”
“Good, glad to hear that. Now, first things first, who are you? Or what are you?”
“We are…we were…Faydar.”
“Faydar? Like Morgefah and Alevia?”
“Curse their names.”
“Sure. But I’ll need more than that.” After a short moment of more hissed whispers, the souls spoke again,
“We will answer, but you must promise us that you will initiate the sequence once we do, Spellmonger. On your honor.”
I looked at the dusty machine in front of me.
“Sure, I’ll do it. On my honor,” I said casually.
I wasn’t really bothered by making and breaking promises. Least of all those that would chip away at my honor. Fuck all that. I’ve had my fill of Faydar bullshit. Of course, I wasn’t ruling out the possibility of helping them, but they better be worth it.
“Then we will explain everything as best we can in your simple language.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We have been imprisoned here by the same creatures that caused you and your people incalculable suffering.”
“Curse their names!” a few other voices hissed through the panel.
“May the flesh absorb them!” others added.
I had no idea what it meant, but I was sure I’d find out.
“Our worlds were attacked.”
“Attacked! Destroyed! Absorbed!”
“By a race of mindless flesh beasts we called the Flesh Dominion,” the loudest of the voices continued. “The Empire, the Five Realms under siege.”
“Eight thousand years ago!”
“The Emperor protects!”
“Hold on,” I said. “Can only one of you speak? This is all very confusing and I don’t know what it has to do with my question to be honest.”
The whispers began to argue among themselves until the voice who greeted me spoke again.
“We agree this will be the voice.”
“Great.”
“The Emperor ruled the Five Worlds until the Flesh Dominion spread and attacked our planets. A great war was fought in the darkness of space. Under the command of Faydar, a hundred races battled the mindless flesh.”
“Mindless flesh?”
“A cursed race. A virus with no mind, but great intelligence.”
“What does that even mean? They were intelligent but mindless?”
“Intelligence, Spellmonger, is not awareness. Intelligence is adaptability and the Flesh Dominion adapts and absorbs like no other race. A pest has no awareness, but it can spread and adapt and destroy your crops, can it not? Such is the Flesh Dominion, a race that only knew growth and cared not for diplomacy, dialogue, or compromise.”
I was tired, in pain and wishing nothing more than to return home and though their words sparked my curiosity, I simply wanted to get to the point.
“And what now? Are they coming for us too? What does any of that have to do with Morgefah, you, and me?”
“Everything, Spellmonger. When the Third Realm fell, we didn’t heed the warning. We were powerful, a great empire that had no enemies. Then the Fourth Realm and the Fifth fell. Six hundred worlds destroyed, devoured. The Emperor called upon all of us to return to the Prime Worlds finally. A final order to evacuate all our colonies and fortify our very core. That is when the Prime Administrators, those you called gods, abandoned Erf and returned into the embrace of our beloved ruler.”
“Fucking pilgrims,” I muttered. How the hell did they know?
“IGORF 12 was officially shut down. The world abandoned, and the game system was supposed to be deleted with the following reset.”
“Reset?” I asked.
“But not all of us had ships. We were guests on IGORF 12, dignitaries of the Faydar Empire, simple people who came to enjoy the facilities,” he said, ignoring my question. “Only one small one-person shuttle remained and yet there were more than two hundred of us still on Erf. The only administrators left were those you call Morgefah and Alevia. They argued endlessly over who will depart and it was finally decided that neither would. They were minor officials, Morgefah was the administrator of biodegradability—”
“A god of shit and piss!” the other voices hissed.
“And Alevia was his mere assistant. The lowest of the low for whom the Prime Administrators had no place in their escape ships.”
“Gods of shit!” more cried.
“A plan was forged. A cursed plan that involved all of us. A plan that imprisoned us here.”
“Betrayers! Traitors!”
“Torturers!”
“Morgefah and Alevia would remain on Erf and wait out the war against the Flesh Dominion. But they knew that Erf would evolve, advance technologically enough to find and destroy them. The only way for them to stop it was to establish a new game system. A system that would control the population, keep it occupied indefinitely. But the Prime Administrators had already initiated the shutdown sequence and detached the game matrix from the world.”
“Abusers!” the voices hissed again and the whole panel flashed several times. I felt a slight tremble vibrate through the cavern.
“That is when Morgefah came up with his cursed plan. He poisoned us and as we fell to sleep, he used the remnants of our technology to imprison our minds within this place. Alevia and he used the basic structure of the initial matrix to create a new system using our very brains for the processing power. When we awoke, we had lost our bodies. We were imprisoned here to serve their new system as they established themselves as the new Prime Administrators, the God of Light and Darkness.”
“Wait,” I said, coughing on the smoke of my cigar. “Wait, shit. You want to tell me that your brains are behind that panel? That those two are using your minds to power…The Deeproot?”
“We are the Deeproot, Spellmonger. The original system had lost its matrix, but the blueprint was still there only lacking a conscious processing unit. Most of the processes of the Deeproot are automated, but it still needs oversight. Our minds are forced to do this task whether we want it or not. It was only when Morgefah created the Spellmonger quest to set himself free, that we managed to interfere with great effort and lead you here. What he thought was his salvation, would become his end.”
I took in a deep waft of smoke and exhaled it slowly.
“So, you guys are…The Deeproot,” I repeated, remembering what Butlee said about there not being a system anymore. The metallic little servant didn’t even know what went on after the Prime Administrators left.
“All of this,” I said. “So Morgefah and Alevia could save themselves from the Flesh Dominion? For the hope of their race returning to pick them up? And that last ship? Alevia wanted to escape, didn’t he? He was sick of waiting.”
“Morgefah was supposed to be more powerful than Alevia but with time the assistant had gathered more and more power. Prayer, ritual and sacrifice by the Quinta and the Steelheart Kingdom fueled the administrator’s influence over certain parts of the system. The agreement was for Morgefah to remain as the main overseer of the Deeproot, for this he had to imprison himself within the confines of this fortress. Alevia was free to roam what you call Hell, but he would never enter the fortress. A key was forged, the one you found, and entombed in the overworld. Yet, the races of the above world had found it never understanding its true meaning. It was passed from one ruler to the other as nations conquered each other, kingdoms rose and withered away. This ensured that neither would reach the ship and escape. Once Alevia became powerful enough, he managed to tear a great portion of hell’s legion from Morgefah’s control and so the war began both in Hell and in the overworld.”
“And lasted for thousands of years,” I said.
“In his desperation, Morgefah created the Spellmonger quest with our help. Each time a new creature found the key, the quest-chain would initiate, but the key-bearer never survived through the imperial guard left there by the Prime Administrators until now.”
I flicked my cigar on the ground and stomped it out. What a shitshow all of it was. Wish I had brough Tyfus with me so he could soak this all up and put it in words I could wrap my head around.
“Alright, so Morgefah and Alevia are some minor peasants who grabbed power after the big boys left. They imprisoned your minds to make the Deeproot work, right?”
“That is the simple explanation, yes.”
“And that place just outside of Hell, what is it?”
“Our knowledge of the history of Erf is limited, Spellmonger. What you refer to might be the last spot of resistance against our initial attack on your world. It is truly strange it survived all these years. One can only surmise that automated defense systems are still in place there but be sure that none of your ancestors still live in the ruins.”
“Right, because you killed them all.”
“No! That is not what happens to a game world. Yes, the casualties of the first days are great, but as we introduce the system and other alien races, it stabilizes. It is always very tumultuous during the First Era, but soon your population forgets about its own history and adapts to the new world.”
“How many have you killed?” I asked, tapping my foot impatiently.
After a short pause, the voices spoke again with what I hoped was a shameful tone.
“Billions.”
“Billions,” I muttered. What was that number anyway? Were there even so many alive today? Could one even count that many people in a lifetime?
“So the races of this world, all except humans, they’re from other worlds?”
“Yes, but you have lived so long amongst each other, none of your blood is pure anymore. There is no such thing as a human or elf or dwarf anymore.”
“Were dwarves chuggadigs then?”
“We don’t know.”
“Fair enough. And orcs? How are orcs unchanged?”
“Yes, the orcs…” The voice went silent for a moment then whispered to the others before continuing. “They arrived… later. By themselves. They weren’t planned with the initial release of IGORF 12 known as Erf. They crashed landed with a ship many years later and have managed to adapt to the world rather well. They have been integrated into the Deeproot as soon as they arrived and accepted it with a strange willingness.”
“And they forgot about their origins?”
“Too much time had passed, Spellmonger. There were resets…” Resets, yes. That word hung heavy over my head. And the orcs? I was on point, after all. They didn’t belong and yet I couldn’t imagine a world without them.
I rubbed my forehead, trying really hard to think clearly.
“And now you want what? You don’t have bodies so if I free you—what even happens?”
“We would finally be able to die, Spellmonger.”
“Death is our salvation!”
“We deserve rest!” the voices hissed and cried desperately.
I looked at the console as a million more questions raced through my mind. I could understand their wish. Living like that for thousands of years must have been torture, but then again they were Faydar and I wasn’t inclined to believe everything they said. Not to speak of the fact that they had brought this on themselves as they turned our world into the mess it was just so they could entertain themselves.
“Please, Spellmonger.”
“And our world? Without the Deeproot, how are we supposed to exist? How are we supposed to do anything?”
“Basic systems will still be in place. One of the Small Moons as you call them, the Daughter to be more particular, is a planetary control sphere rather than a moon. It will still offer functions such as weather patterns, gravitational stability, reset functions, and limited telekinetic abilities.”
“Reset functions,” I said. “What does that mean? You mean Esheytan?”
Silence fell over the room.
“Yes.”
“So it is true. Our world will be destroyed.”
“It is one of the primary functions of any system. Every two or so thousand years a planet-wide catastrophe is initiated. This stops the civilizations to advance beyond a certain technological level and…”
“And?” I snapped.
“It prevents staleness.”
“Staleness? So you people don’t get bored watching the same people kill each other?”
“Yes.” There was regret in their tone, but it hardly mattered. Such powers these Faydar had and this is what they used them for?
“How can I stop it?”
“There is no way to stop it.”
“Even if I shut you off?”
A moment of silence and hurried whispers followed. Finally, the Faydar spoke.
“You can fortify your cities, you could build arcs and use magic to protect yourselves. No civilization before yours knew what was coming. With the right preparations, you could salvage some of your kingdoms.”
“You bastards,” I muttered. Another thing hit me then. “And how are we supposed to build these great fortifications if we don’t even have the powers the Deeproot offers?”
“Spellmonger, please. We have suffered for—”
“No, tell me!” I yelled. “How is shutting you off not dooming our civilizations? You’ve created the Deeproot and now you want us to destroy it just before we need it? And then two thousand years later? What then? Another reset? Another apocalypse?”
“You can spread the word to your people without the Deeproot. Great things can be accomplished if you unite your realms and defend against the reset. You can teach future generations; you can prepare them for what is coming!”
“Without any of my powers? Tumblee said it already, this systema allows for infinite growth. If we want to defend against Esheytan, we need to use everything we have.”
“For so many years we have been entombed, Spellmonger! You want us to remain here forever? Hundreds suffering endlessly! This is unbearable! Please, we beg you! End us! End this agony!”
I looked away, feeling a pang of panic set in. How could I let these creatures continue their torturous existence? Faydar or not, they had paid the price for their deeds many times over, and yet.
“My world will be destroyed. Everyone I know, dead.”
“Spellmonger…after everything we have done for you, do this for us.”
“We need the Deeproot, Faydar.” I turned my back on the panel and the whole room began to flicker madly. The souls began to stir, to hiss and scream with madness.
“Spellmonger!” the voices boomed through the cavern. “You will not finish the quest!”
“I finished it,” I said.
“We will never leave you! We will never let you rest!”
I turned around and looked at the flickering panel.
“Spellmonger, please!”
“I’m sorry.”
A loud shriek bellowed from the eternal prison of the Faydar as I took to the stairs.
“We will haunt you forever!”
“I know,” I muttered under my breath and began the climb back up. “I know.”
