Chrysalis

Chapter 722 Fancy Stylin'

The meeting dragged on for another hour before a reasonable plan of action of attack was determined. We had to consult Al fairly frequently throughout the process, trying to determine exactly what is and isn't allowed in a formal war between demon cities. In the process we got a bit of an overview on the history and practical application of this particular demon tradition. Allocrix doesn't have any idea roughly when it started, the practice is nearly as old as demon kind itself, or at least so he claims.

According to the burning eyeball himself, there was such a time that the third stratum was filled with demons who as of yet didn't have any boundaries or structures as to how to lead their lives. Much as one would expect, it was complete chaos. Or at least, it was more chaotic than things are now supposedly. I did have to ask him one burning question at this point in the conversation.

[Who exactly imposed the rules on you?]

[What do you mean?]

[At one point you had no rules, and then these traditions were… put in place, for want of a better term, then there must be someone who came up with them, right? An individual or group that was the origin point. Or were they just cooked up at some point and spread throughout demon society over time?]

[Ah, you ask who is the origin of our traditions. Arconidem.]

[Arconi-who?]

[Arconidem, the demon god.]

[I didn't realise you demons had a religion?]

I mean, how does that even work? They're literally referred to as demons… or is this why they're referred to as demons? Allocrix stares at me like he's looking at an alien.

[You don't know who Arconidem is?]

I try to think.

[It might ring a bell? I get the feeling I've heard the name before.]

[I believe you might.]

Is that humour I hear in the big eyeball's voice?! A shocking development.

[Arconidem the demon god is one of the nineteen ancients and the progenitor of the demon race,] he informs me in his usual flat tone.

[Ah.]

Well, dang. I probably should have remembered that. Granin and his apprentices had drilled me on what is known about the nineteen ancients, which isn't much, generally speaking. In fact, from what I understood, most people in Pangera can't name them, and many don't believe that they exist in the first place. Which isn't a ringing endorsement. Although the existence of the Cults throughout the civilised world means that at least some people are keeping the, uh, dream, alive?

[Wait a second. He was the progenitor? Of all the demons?]

Al blinks. Which is quite the sight, thankfully it's too quick for me to see… it.

[It is known that he has made the claim. As to the truth of it, who can say?]

[But don't you guys all spawn from the Dungeon? Like, there are millions of demons spawning out there as we speak?]

[Ah, I understand you're confusion. Arconidem claims to be the very first demon, the one that the Dungeon used to pattern the rest of us. Again, who can say? As to the title that Arconidem claimed for himself, he is so powerful that there could be considered functionally no difference between him and a god.]

[But how would you know how powerful he is? I'm going to assume that you've never seen him? Like, how could you?]

[I have seen him.]

…

[WOT?!]

The big eye nods.

[Some demons are taken to see Arconidem when they evolve. I would describe it as a type of vision, rather than physically seeing them. The experience was… haunting.]

[Yeah I bet.]

It's a bit of a shock to realise that I'm not the only one who gets to enjoy these 'wonderful' trips to elsewhere when evolving, or even that it's not a reincarnator thing. Apparently a few of the native born demons get to experience the same level of joy that I do, having their soul circle a drain and sink down to goodness knows where to speak to someone you don't necessarily want to see. I wonder if the Gandalf I see might end up being one of the ancients as well? They haven't given me a name… I suppose it might be possible? Although, from memory I think they might have denied it? Or at least suggested that they and the ancients are not one and the same.

Just in case, I might ask about it.

[Any chance you can describe what he looks like for me?]

The fire dims around Al a little.

[I often get asked this question. Arconidem looks much like a larval demon…]

[Hah!]

[… gigantic and seated on a throne formed of his own flesh.]

[… ah.]

For a moment there I was stuck with the thought of an all-powerful ancient who was about the size of my eyeball.

[Well, I've certainly never visited anyone like that.]

Al eyes me. Which is an intense experience, let me tell you.

[Why would you have?]

[Good point! Moving on!]

A pause.

[What's he like?]

[I don't want to discuss it.]

[Fair enough! You can't blame an ant for being curious. We're talking about one of the ancients here after all.]

Actually learning of someone who actually managed to communicate with one of those dudes is freaking me out a little. I always kind of imagined the ancients as being so far away that they could never be reached. It feels like one of them just reached out from the depths of the Dungeon and poked me.

Revelations of gigantic monsters as old as time, the planning for the upcoming conflict went smoothly enough until everyone knew what they had to do over the coming days. Even if they weren't happy about it.

"I still don't understand why I can't be there for the main battle!" Leeroy whined. "You don't want the Immortals at the front, leading the charge, headlong into tier seven demons who will cut us to pieces as fast as they look at us? Why not?!"

I look at her.

"You know damn well why!"

THWACK!

"Ouch!"

"Instead of complaining and sulking that you were left of the last battle, why not try and do something actually useful for your family in the next one? Something that doesn't involve throwing your life away in the hopes of perhaps, maybe chipping a demon's claw as they separate your head from your thorax!"

"I still think I could have been in the last battle…"

"How the heck are you supposed to climb down the cable when you're wearing full armour?!"

THWACK!

The soldier pulled away from me, furiously rubbing her head with one antenna.

"I could have fought without it!"

"Oh, really? And you think you would be trusted not to charge blindly forward as if you were wearing it?"

"I'm not stupid!"

Every Council member present turns to her in confusion.

"I'm not!" she protests angrily. "I would have made a tactical assault!"

Prepared to give her a chance, I ask a leading question.

"Would this 'tactical assault' have involved, in any way, you rushing forward, on your own, into impossible odds?"

…

…

"No?"

"You don't sound entirely certain about that."

"Alright fine. Yes."

THWACK!