Chương 6: May you find peace

The valley annoyed me with its beauty. Every step down from the cave pushed us deeper into rolling green hills that smelled like actual countryside. Like a countryside untouched by industry. The grass bent under my loafers, the wind pushed against my jacket, and a bug landed on my hand and bit my shield before I flicked it off. Astarielle walked beside me, heels sinking into the soft earth with every step. She hadn't complained yet, which meant she was letting it simmer.

"So," she said five minutes later, pulling her heel out of a patch of mud.

"We're walking."

"That is an accurate observation."

"Through a field." I smiled.

"That is also accurate." She yanked her other heel free with an audible squelch.

"And you are not planning to summon a mount to carry me."

"Don't have any."

"There's no way you haven't hit a random hell steed when looking for summons." I shook my head.

"Nope. Just worms. So many worms."

"Stop reaching into the lower levels, then. There're like fifty billion tentacle worms in them." I've noticed.

"Damian." She stopped, planting both heels into the grass.

"I am wearing a cocktail dress. In a field. After killing a hundred rats. I have ash in my hair, mud on my shoes, and I smell like burnt fur."

"I told you to dress for combat."

"I am dressed for combat. Not for walking through mud."

"Live and learn." I continued walking.

"After all the complaining about me not summoning you outside, this should be a welcomed change." She paused for a second.

"It is… in a way. Come to think of it, there's no police on the islands. Most likely no FBI or constant surveillance either. Do you think I could roam freely in there?" I shrugged.

"Maybe. We can look into that." Her gaze turned dreamy. On Earth, everywhere had cameras. Those had people or AI behind them, and that one rang alerts when a demon was spotted. That barred her from roaming outside. But the islands might have been different. We descended into the valley proper, the town growing larger ahead. From up on the hill, it looked quaint. Down here, it looked like an actual medieval settlement. Stone buildings, thatched roofs, smoke rising from chimneys. A mill turned lazily by the river.

People moved in the distant streets. The whole thing felt wrong in a way. Too real. Too lived-in. These people existed inside a dimensional anomaly that has supposedly sprung into existence over the past fifteen years. This place had way more than fifteen years of history. They must have pre-dated all of it. Which brought the question of where the Hell were we. We followed a dirt road that wound between two patches of forest.

The trees here were thick, old, with canopies that blocked out most of the golden sky-light. It was cooler in the shade and quieter. A dog shot out of the underbrush and ran straight at us. It was a mutt. Brown and white, floppy ears, tongue out, tail going like a propeller. It skidded to a halt in front of Astarielle, looked up at her, and started wagging so hard its entire back half swayed. Astarielle stared down at it. The dog stared up at her. It barked once, then sat, still wagging.

"It's not afraid of me," she said, sounding genuinely confused.

"I feel disrespected."

"It's a dog. They're not known for good judgment."

"Hey!" A voice came from the trees, young and out of breath.

"Biscuit, get back here!" A teenager crashed through the underbrush a moment later. He was maybe sixteen, with a mess of brown hair, a face full of freckles, and the kind of lanky build that said he hadn't grown into his limbs yet. He wore a rough-spun shirt, trousers held up by a rope belt, and boots caked in mud. A short bow hung from his shoulder, and a hunting knife sat at his hip. He stumbled to a stop when he saw us. His eyes went wide, but with wonder.

"Whoa." He looked at Astarielle, then at me, then back at Astarielle.

"Are you a spirit? You're so pretty. Are your horns real? Can I touch them? Sorry, that's rude. I'm Chris." He stuck out his hand. Astarielle blinked. That brought a smirk to my face. Demons weren't exactly accepted on Earth. And she wasn't the highest-ranked succubus in Hell, to put it mildly. I shook his hand.

"I'm Damian. This is Astarielle."

"Hi, Astarielle!" He beamed at her. Then he looked down at the dog.

"And that's Biscuit. He's supposed to be helping me track, but he's still learning how to do it." Biscuit wagged harder, as if being terrible at his job was a point of pride.

"Track what?" I asked. Chris's face shifted. Still bright, still open, but with a layer of determination underneath.

"There's a bear. A big one. It's been coming down from the hills and killing livestock. Old Marta lost three goats last week, and the Voss farm lost two sheep the night before. If it keeps going, people are going to be in real trouble before winter."

"And you're hunting it?" Astarielle asked.

"Alone?"

"I've got Biscuit." He shrugged, not defensively.

"The adults are all busy with the harvest. And the militia won't go after it because it's not threatening people yet, just animals. But Marta's goats are her whole livelihood. She cried when she found them. So." Another shrug.

"Someone's got to do it." This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I glanced at Astarielle. She was looking at Chris with an uncharacteristically soft expression. I hadn't seen that on her often.

"Have you found it?"

"Almost!" His face lit up.

"We tracked it all morning. It's denned up somewhere close. I just can't get Biscuit to pinpoint it." He pointed into the thicker part of the forest.

"I was working up a plan. I figure if I can get above it on the ridge and—""Astarielle," I said. Her eyes flashed. A pulse of pink power burst from her, light and barely visible. It covered a massive area around us. She pointed in a direction.

"It's about two hundred yards that way."

"Wow!" Chris looked in that direction.

"You have some really good magic." She raised her hand. Crimson energy speared from her palm and pierced the forest. The dying roar of a bear echoed from the direction. White text appeared in front of me. [ENEMY DEFEATED – DIRE BEAR (1)] [Drops: Bear Hide (Common), Bear Fang (Common) (x4), 12 copper, a cracked claw (Common)] Chris stared into the forest, mouth open. Biscuit sat down and scratched his ear.

"That was…" Chris started.

"Fast." Astarielle inspected her nails.

"You can go get the hide to claim the kill."

"But it wasn't me who… All right! Peace'll be happy with it." He bolted in the direction. I stepped closer to Astarielle and summoned the Lantern of Eternal Suffering into my palm, hiding it behind her. No reason to leave behind a perfectly serviceable soul. We gave Chris a few minutes. Soon enough, he was coming back, carrying the massive bear hide over his shoulder, stumbling under its weight. He grinned from ear to ear.

"That was amazing! How did you do that? Was that fire magic? It looked like it curved around the trees. Can all spirits do that? Old Marta is going to be so happy. Can you come tell her? Actually, wait." He waved with his arm, vibrating with excitement.

"You have to meet Peace. She's going to love you guys."

"Who's Peace?" I asked, though I was already being dragged.

"She's the best person in the valley. She helps everyone. She helped me learn to track after my dad died. She fixed the mill when it broke last spring. She's really strong, too, the strongest person I know. And she works for Paradise." He said the name with a reverence usually reserved for religious institutions.

"Come on, she's at the tavern. She always has tea in the afternoon." Paradise. That name screamed saviour complex made manifest. He took off down the road toward town, Biscuit sprinting alongside him. The dog kept looking back at us, tongue flapping. Astarielle watched them go.

"He's nice," she said quietly.

"You like a sixteen-year-old boy who hunts bears for old ladies?"

"He correctly recognized how pretty I am." She started walking.

"That's noteworthy." We followed Chris down the road and into the town. Up close, it was larger than I expected. Cobblestone streets, a central square with a fountain, and market stalls along one side. People moved around us, most in simple clothes, a few in something closer to leather armor. They noticed Astarielle, obviously. A red-skinned woman with horns in a cocktail dress and heels tended to draw attention. But nobody ran. Nobody screamed.

A woman at a fruit stall glanced at Astarielle, then went back to arranging apples. A blacksmith looked up from his anvil, nodded, and kept hammering. They'd seen non-humans before. Interesting. Chris led us to the far side of the square, where a tavern opened onto the street with a few outdoor tables. At one of them, a woman sat alone, drinking tea. She was hard to miss. Long hair, dark, falling well past her shoulders. A face of serene stillness and beauty with barely any makeup, matched by crystalline earrings.

She wore long business pants caught at the waist, a white button-up shirt, and nice heels, a mixture between pretty and practical. A heavy trench coat was flung over her shoulders like a cape. A crystal flower, lilac-colored, hung from a pendant at her neck. And behind her, floating about a foot above her right shoulder, a tall crystal hovered in the air. It was a touch over two feet long, narrow, black, and it rotated so slowly you'd miss the movement if you blinked. It pulsed with a faint white light.

I pushed power into my eyes. The world's colors flipped. The woman herself had no magical signature. Chris actually had an aura, a weak one, but a present, green energy wreathed his shape. The crystal shone like a little sun, so bright I couldn't analyze it. The color of the mana strangely flickered. Unusual, as I've never seen that on Earth.

"Peace!" Chris ran up to her, Biscuit on his heels. The dog sat by her chair, tail thumping. Peace set down her teacup. A smile spread across her face, warm and genuine, transforming the stillness into something alive.

"Chris. You're covered in mud."

"The bear's dead! These two killed it. Well, she killed it." He pointed at Astarielle.

"With one spell. It was incredible. Old Marta's goats are safe." Peace reached out and brushed dirt from Chris's hair.

"Did you eat breakfast before you went out?"

"I had bread."

"Bread alone isn't breakfast." She said it with the typical motherly authority that left no room for argument. She glanced past him, at Astarielle and me. Her eyes moved over us with a measured calm. They lingered on Astarielle for a beat shorter than on me.

"Climbers," she said.

"I see the season has started already."

"Damian O'Connor." I gave her my best smile. That one worked on everyone, and it hopefully also hid how much the mention of a season caught my attention.

"And this is Astarielle."

"I am Peace." She gestured at the empty chairs across from her.

"Sit, if you'd like. Chris, go get cleaned up and eat a proper meal. Tell the barkeep to put it on my tab."

"But I want to—""Eat first. You can return afterward." Chris deflated for exactly one second, then bounced back.

"Okay." He grabbed Biscuit by the scruff and dragged him toward the tavern door.

"Come on, Biscuit." The dog went semi-willingly. Chris vanished inside. I sat down across from Peace. Astarielle took the chair beside me, crossing her legs with practiced elegance. The mud on her heels somewhat undermined the effect.

"Thank you for helping him," Peace said. Her voice was calm, measured. Almost too composed.

"He takes too much on himself."

"He's a good kid," I said.

"Not a lot of sixteen-year-olds would spend a morning hunting a bear for someone else's goats."

"He's the best of us." She said it simply, without embellishment. She took a sip of her tea.

"Where are you from, Damian? You are clearly not from the upper floors, not from any settlement I recognize, and not the typical type of outsider climber I'm used to. And I know where she's from." She gave Astarielle the slightest of nods. I narrowed my eyes. Straight to the point, and she knew what Hell was.

"I am from the Pacific."

"I haven't heard of it." She smiled.

"That's a physical realm, isn't it?" I shrugged.

"I'm not sure what makes a realm classified as physical." Not my greatest lie. Of course, I knew. Peace glanced at Astarielle.

"Were you dragging his soul to Hell and got lost along the way?" Astarielle snorted.

"Not quite. If anything, I'm the victim here."

"Your kind loves to say that." Peace refocused on me.

"Please, forgive my manners. Welcome to the Tower of the Dead God." Oh, so they called it the same inside as we did outside. That suggested we got that name from them, somehow.

"Do you get many outsiders?"

"Not of your type. And, rarely, it doesn't happen often that someone stumbles into our humble tower. Then again, you haven't stumbled here, have you?" I smiled.

"We have been sent here to explore the tower."

"And straight to the sixth floor." Peace measured us, clearly waiting for a reaction. I realized I should have had one a second too late. Now, acting shocked would be too unauthentic to be believable.

"How do I get up to a higher floor?"

"A cute misdirection." She took a sip from her tea.

"But I suppose it could be entertaining to tell you. Every floor has a waystone. Activate it together, and it will give you the coordinates for an upper floor. Normally, the overseer would let you up at that point. But in your case, I am moderately curious as to how that will go." An upper floor suggested it wasn't predetermined. How interesting. She gave way more information than she needed to, and I wasn't sure if it was because she liked us because of Chris or if she had an ulterior motive.

"Thank you," I said.

"I appreciate you helping Chris, so that is the least I can do. Everyone who comes from outside wants to go up. That's the nature of climbers." She said it without judgment, but also without enthusiasm. I leaned forward slightly.

"Any chance you could point us in the right direction? We'd appreciate it." She refilled her teacup from a clay pot. The tea smelled like chamomile and something sharper underneath.

"The village chief should know. They always do."

"Thank you again." I smiled.

"Chris mentioned that you are from Paradise. What is it?" She narrowed her eyes.

"An organization." That she didn't want to talk about. I could press, but it felt futile. She wasn't going to leak any information, and she already helped us. No point in making enemies by overpressing.

"We'll go for the waystone then. See you around." We got up.

"May you find peace," she said and lifted her cup to sip again. We left for the town hall. Time to find the waystone.