Cassius Lange
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Midnight Bounties 4 - Chapter 22
🕑 Added 2025-07-19 11:00:03 +0000 UTC“Well, this is fucked,” I muttered under my breath.
I was still tense from the fight. The dark energies were swirling through my body and shedding a purple light over the laboratory. It only added to the madness of the place Wolf and I found ourselves in.
Massive glass tanks stood to either side of a large room filled with wrecked, rotting machinery. Metallic cranes with disturbing cutting and poking tools hung above several torture reck-like tables. Silvery shelves full of vials, mostly cracked, but some intact and filled with differently colored liquids covered the space between. Black tentacles spread through the whole room meandering between shelves, metal boxes, across the walls, and over the ceiling covering the light strips. The smell was a mixture of chemicals and rotting meat that was near impossible to get used to.
“Look at this shit, Wolf,” I said, standing in front of one of the tanks.
A dead gnome was floating in the water, his body naked and looking like it would fall apart the moment someone pulled it out of the tank. It was slightly different than what I was used to when describing a gnome. He was hairy, especially across his back and arms. His head was also much larger than even Tyfus’ big old melon, but the facial expression was undoubtedly gnomish. There were letters inscribed at the foot of the tank. More of that alien language I couldn’t make out.
The next one over was an elf or a drow. I couldn’t really be sure. The ears were pointy and the face was thin with sharp edges like an elf, but the skin was dark and rough the way a drow’s skin was. He was also much bulkier with thick broad shoulders and thick legs. He looked like an elf born of a barbarian.
“What did they do to you people here?” I grimaced moving to the next one.
Wolf seemed a bit twitchy the entire time and for good reason. The place was giving me the creeps too, but my curiosity wouldn’t let off. I wanted to know what was going on there.
“Wish I could read any of this crap,” I muttered brushing my fingers over the letters inscribed in the metallic plates at each tank.
“And this is a dwarf, is it?” I said looking inside the next tank.
The creature was about the size and thickness of a dwarf. It was almost entirely covered with thick fur except for the face and that unmistakably big round dwarven nose. The main difference, however, wasn’t just the amount of hair, but the fact that three of the five fingers on its hands had long, shovel-like claws that seemed perfect for digging. Was this some kind of future vision for the dwarven race? Or was it just a disgusting experiment? Some powerful entity toying around with the lives of our people? My mind was racing. I had so many questions but the longer I stayed watching it all, the more confused and disgusted I became.
I also found another satyr, a big specimen like the one I fought. I found a slater too, but it was more fish-like than our slaters. It didn’t even have feet, just fins like a fucking mermaid. There was a sardack there as well. It too was covered in feathers, but it looked much more like a bird with thick leathery legs that ended in claws. All of them resembled more primitive and bestial versions of the people in Steelheart.
“So you fuckers didn’t change, did you?” I said, finding myself in front of a tank with a big green orc inside.
Nothing about it was different. The angry face, the musclebound body, and it even had some tribal tattoos covering its chest and arms. If that specimen in the tank walked through Sankta Varath, nobody would be able to tell the difference. Why they left the orcs alone was beyond me as everything else was. But that wasn’t the only thing that differentiated the orc from the other races in the laboratory. Its tank seemed newer than the others. Or at least better preserved. I always knew there was something about the orcs that just didn’t fit in with the rest of us. They always had their own way of doing things, the way they talked, moved, their fucking smell, not to even speak of the culture.
“I don’t know, Wolf. This shit is weirding me out. I’d rather go fight a bunch more of those Imperial fuckwits than stay here.”
The deviltail nodded his big head in agreement.
“Alright, let’s go that way,” I said, moving to a door next to a twisting staircase that led downward.
I stood in front of the thing, waiting for the green light to scan me, but nothing happened. I kicked it once for good measure, but it didn’t buckle. No wonder. It was heavily deformed and looked like it weighed as much as one of our moons. I eyed the staircase and sighed.
“Down it is.”
I pulled Wolf by the reins down the twisting staircase, and we soon found ourselves in the largest room yet. Beneath the initial laboratory was a massive hall that was at least fifty feet tall. There were stacks of water tanks to both sides stretching seemingly forever into the darkness.
“Stay close,” I said as we walked through the place.
The tanks were full of all kinds of creatures large and small. I saw gnolls and goblins, dire rats and wolves, different species of birds, some large enough to swallow me whole. They all looked just familiar enough to our own beasts and monster that I could recognize them but just different enough for a million questions to snake through my head. We even came onto a wretched six-legged thing with a mangled face that looked like a Harbin Witch. And if I saw correctly, one of the upper tanks had a Chuggadig in it of almost the same exact kind I fought in the Ambermine except for a detail that disturbed me endlessly: it had the face of a dwarf.
“Gods, what insanity is this?” I scoffed. There were even several specimens of demons inside, both large and small with green skin and lizard-like heads.
As we reached the end of the giant hall, I noticed a large gate that could have been part of a castle for all I knew. I led Wolf up to it and let the thing scan me while looking over my shoulder at all those water tanks. I couldn’t shake the feeling that those things weren’t just experiments. Who the hell would crossbreed a chuggadig and a dwarf anyway? Unless…no, the thought sent shivers down my spine. Could it be, though? Could the dwarves have been chuggadigs at one point and then…somehow the Faydar turned them into dwarves? Maybe breeding them with humans or using some of that equipment up in the laboratory?
“Ugh,” I muttered, spitting on the ground. “Curse this fucking place.”
The large gate shook, and dust and fine metallic sand came cascading down it as it pulled up, hissing like a dragon in heat.
Another massive room opened up before me, smaller than the previous one and luckily lacking any kind of tanks. It was mostly empty except for a house-sized contraption standing on one of six elevated platforms. If I’m going to be honest, the only way I could describe it was by saying it looked like a big old metal dick narrowing into a sharp point at the head. I noticed burn marks on the other platforms as I approached. Wolf sniffed at it for a moment but had no reaction to the thing. It was as sterile as the rest of the place.
“Well, fuck it. Look, there’s several more staircases over there leading up. Let’s—”
Wolf suddenly stiffened, his ears perking up. A second later, a loud bang from somewhere in the fortress made the whole place shake for a brief moment. Dust came raining from the tall ceiling.
“What the hell?”
A loud horn blared across the place and a soft but intense voice echoed across the large hall repeating a short phrase several times. Red colors flashed across the white stripes of light on the walls. I had no idea what was going on, but I was sure I had to move.
Immediately.
We ran up the twisting staircase as I tightened my grip on Traitor and Mercy. Whatever was happening to the place, would probably ask for violence. It was the nature of everything…this-worldly.
We came into a small space with a door that hissed open leading onto a kind of balcony. I walked up to the railing, looked down and swallowed.
A large company of Imperial Soldiers, with about a dozen praetorians surrounding a massive, two-legged golden giant stood down there, but they hadn’t noticed me. The group seemed to be guarding the massive gate behind them and waiting for something to come from the other side. The place they occupied was a sort of humongous gallery full of statues larger than any in Sankta Varath.
I gnashed my teeth, seeing the skeletons of unsung spellmongers impaled on the statue’s weapons like some sort of twisted accessories. The image brought both a sense of sadness and a hefty doze of anger over me.
“Morgefah,” I muttered to myself.
Somehow I knew he was behind that gate. The door that led to the God of Death, the God of War, the Dark Lord. The titles seemed to make less sense the longer I spent in that prison. What war did Morgefah even see? How many soldier’s prayers had he ever heard? I simply imagined our Gods as something else. Something grander perhaps. Shit, I had imagined I’d be fighting through hordes of demons or monsters not some twisted soldiers in golden armor in a fancy ass gallery. And those statues? Creatures of large heads and slim bodies with two pairs of arms and legs standing dressed like members of our King’s Council. Was that it, after all?
Despite everything before me, my eyes wandered over the ancient corpses of the previous spellmongers. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t fair. Not my own predicament, but the fact that someone like Shieldmother or Castelian would have made just as much progress in that place as I had. That those poor souls were entirely unprepared for the gargantuan task thrown at them. What God would make the weak its champions? Snowdog’s mother must have been there among the dozen or so skeletons displayed like some sort of trophies.
I looked down at the company of gold-clad monstrosities who were probably the last thing any of them saw and frowned as more anger washed over me. Faceless, soulless zombies in the service of some long-gone gods. Their very existence was insult to all of us.
“Time to die, you fucking tools.” Just before I could make a move, another explosion rocked the place, shaking the entire gallery.
“Alevia is coming,” I muttered, realizing what was going on. I hesitated for a moment. The thought of letting them fight it out and picking up the pieces crossed my mind.
Cowardice.
No, the only way those soldiers could die was by my hand. By the hand of a spellmonger. It was only right way.
“Fuck it,” I grumbled, clenching my teeth.
I refreshed my (Demon Skin), thought about using (Black Apocalypse) for a momentm but decided it against it. I had no idea about the damage it could do to the place and the gate behind the troops. I activated (Morgefah’s Favor). My muscles tightened and purple veins glowed across my arms, strength doubled, and every cell in my body fired up.
I felt more awake than ever as I narrowed my eyes on a spot in their midst, then raised my hand and cast (Dread Mist), engulfing the whole room in a veil of darkness. The lights suddenly disappeared, casting the entire gallery in dark curtain. Some of the soldiers screamed and hissed and I could hear the confused clatter of their feet.
I teleported down using (Rift Walk). The dark energy explosion rocked the nearest soldiers off their feet.
“The Spellmonger is here!” I roared through the darkness. Before any of them had a chance to react, I activated (Waltz of Death) and began to spin with a dozen swords flashing around me and tearing through the Imperial Soldiers and Imperial Praetorians in a storm of dark energy and vengeful blades. There was a hate in me, perhaps fueled by the proximity of Morgefah, perhaps fueled by everything that led up to that moment.
I spun with such force and violence that I sliced through praetorian shields, heads, and armor like they were nothing. Imperial Soldiers died in droves, black blood raining through the darkness. My swords clanked against helmets, sliced through flesh, and bashed into armor sending praetorians off their feet through sheer force of strength and slamming into walls and statues.
I laughed maniacally through the slaughter, slicing an Imperial Soldier in two as I came to a halt. His upper and lower body swept several feet away and flew off into his friends.
I couldn’t tell how many I killed when I stopped and the (Dread Mist) lifted. All I could see was the remaining few standing among the pieces of their brethren.
I didn’t think those creatures could look surprised, but they sure as shit were when they realized it wasn’t Alevia coming for them. It was a fucking Spellmonger.
“What happened, you cunts? Not who you expected?”
It was weird to see them just standing there, not attacking immediately. I first grinned, but then frowned.
The large, golden golem slowly turned toward me, its bulky hands, I realized, looked an awful lot like some kind of weapons. Matter of fact, they were two massive, spinning barrels pointed at my face. A loud rumble sounded and a blast of fire erupted from the tip of them.
I managed to (Rift Walk) away by the skin of my teeth as a rain of projectiles exploded where I was standing. Just as I reappeared, the thing swung those giant barrels my way again, and I had to teleport, but this time between a group of Imperial Soldiers. I hacked down two, then almost ate a mouthful of small steel chunks that were streaming out of the golem’s barrels. He mowed down the other two Imperial Soldiers as if they were nothing.
“Wolf!” I yelled and as if reading my mind, the deviltail leaped from the balcony and on top of the golem, biting into its metallic neck. Sparks erupted where his fangs tore into the armor and the golden monster staggered, almost falling over. The Deviltail had become quite the chunky boy.
Another explosion rocked the place, this one much closer. Parts of the ceiling came loose and landed on a group of soldiers squashing them. I managed to impale an Imperial Praetorian with both swords in the confusion, then ate a shield to the face that shook my teeth loose.
I rolled away, teleported behind another praetorian and shoved Traitor into the back of its neck. The golden bastard fell to its knees as its magical shield crackled and lightning snaked along the bloodied floor. I knew I had to get in close and stay on the attack with the praetorians and that was just how I liked it.
I saw the golden golem shake Wolf off as another praetorian tried to stab its spear into my deviltail’s side. Using one more charge of (Rift Walk), I appeared between the giant’s legs and shoved both my swords upwards in a weak spots where its legs attached to its metallic crotch. Black blood sprayed over me, the legs shook, and I rolled away to not get squashed by it.
Wolf jumped off, landing on the last Imperial Soldier and splattered it on the polished white floor. A praetorian was coming at him from behind, but Wolf swung his tail as if sensing it and sent the creature staggering sideways to spear into one of the statues.
A spear cut across my back, and I winced feeling my armor get pierced. I jumped away quickly and flung Silencer at the offender. He raised his shield to defend. I grinned, closed in with my last charge of (Rift Walk), and sliced him open from crotch to shoulder. The magical field crackled, blood oozed out from under his visor, and the bastard fell to his knees.
I roared like an animal covered in black blood looking frantically around me. Corpses, arms, legs, heads, entrails, and a lot of fucking blood everywhere. Another one of the statues suddenly shook and broke apart without anyone touching it.
“Fuck me,” I said breathing out hard.
I was panting. My body in pain, my teeth rattled and hurting. Blood was gathering on my back from the wound, but that was fine. They were dead. All of them. My Deeproot chimed, informing me I reached level 70. No new spells, just a bit of stats. Curious, but I had no time to go over it.
I breathed out hard, looking over the mayhem I caused. Some of the creatures were literally smoking from Traitor’s magical effects. Only three statues were still standing. That wouldn’t do.
“Wolf. Destroy the statues.”
He did so and as they crumpled along with the impaled Spellmongers, I thought I’d feel some sort of closure or calm but none came. It wasn’t enough. Destroying the last defenses to Morgefah’s throne didn’t satisfy me at all.
I turned my attention to the gate they’d been defending. It was entirely covered in black tentacles snaking along its sides and meshing in the center. I heard the screams of demons from somewhere in the fortress. Somewhere close. Alevia was coming with its legions to stop me from reaching his brother.
Too little too late. This spellmonger made was ready.
“Open this fucking door, Morgefah,” I said, shaking the blood from my swords. A green light washed over me, and the tentacles suddenly came alive. They loosened and writhed, sliding away as if in pain. The gate hissed shaking the entire gallery. It opened and intense purple light filled my vision.
