Chapter 74: Weakness

  In the very heart of the 66th Infernal Dimension lay ??czyca, also known as the Mountain of Mists. It was the dimension's highest peak and the symbol of Boruta’s authority over these lands—an authority that had endured unbroken since the war in which the King of Names and Symbols ascended the throne of the Ruler of Hells.

  Recently, however, one would search in vain for its former majesty. Ever since the arrival of Maleficius and his seizure of the Mountain of Darkness, a shadow had fallen upon Boruta’s image in the minds of the local devils. It grew with each passing day that the issue of the aggressive intruder was ignored by the ruling Voivode.

  As the anticipation for their inevitable clash reached a fever pitch, something unheard of occurred. For the first time in recorded history, a Mountain Lord elevated his mountain, physically raising it to a height previously reserved exclusively for the dimension's ruler. Old Boruta, witnessing this affront, remained silent; there were even rumors that he had ordered the dampening of any conflict with the mysterious newcomer.

  Now, sitting in the gloom of the throne room, the dimension's ruler bore little resemblance to the figure he had been just weeks prior. His eyes—alive and quick to calculate every threat for tens of thousands of years—now stared fixatedly at a slowly burning candle on the wall. Every so often, he drew a heavy breath through a mouth that had lately hung constantly ajar.

  "Honorable Voivode?"

  A servant responsible for correspondence tried to call him back to reality. With great effort, the devil on the throne shifted his gaze from the hypnotic flame to the gaunt scribe. It seemed to take several seconds for a spark of understanding regarding the question to appear in his eyes.

  "Send word to the east... Make it clear that I desire no trouble in the Rudnicki lands while Nikodem is representing the dimension."

  His voice wheezed hollowly, echoing through the silent hall. For several stretching seconds, the scratching of the quill leaving ink on paper was the only interruption. When the writing ceased, the Voivode lifted his head, resting it back against the worn headrest that offered him brief respiratory relief.

  "The North must also know the price of disturbing the peace. State clearly that an..."

  He could not finish the simple sentence. A fit of terrible coughing seized him, leaving spatters of black blood on the floor. The scribe seemed accustomed to the sight; only a slight pallor on his cheeks betrayed any reaction.

  "Any deviation from the norm will be met with a summons of all those fools for a general levy."

  The official nodded silently and immediately filled another letter with script. Boruta, in his stupor, returned to staring at the slowly dancing candle flame. This time, transitioning to the next sentence took him tens of seconds.

  "Is there news from the 60th Dimension?"

  His eyes seemed to cloud over more and more, and the simple act of speaking appeared to cost the old devil a titanic effort. The scribe recognized something else in the question—something absent during all his years of service at the residence: a note of genuine anxiety.

  "Not yet, Honorable Voivode. According to our estimates, the opening ceremony should be drawing to a close."

  Boruta nodded. His hand, adorned with signet rings remembering the times of the previous Ruler of Hells, clenched the throne’s armrest with difficulty. With a simple glance, he signaled to the scribe that the audience was over.

  The gaunt official bowed solemnly, then turned toward the exit. After taking a few steps, he heard the Voivode's head slide against the throne’s headrest once more. Yet, there was something wrong about the sound.

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  "Honorable Voivode?"

  Waiting for no answer, the devil slowly approached the ruler of the 66th Infernal Dimension. When he stood before the majestic throne, his previously impassive face was seized by sheer horror. In a single moment, he was back at the doors, shouting to the devils outside.

  "Summon the healer! Immediately!"

  Soon, the panic of the servants echoed through the gloom-filled hall.

  Meanwhile, in the 60th Infernal Dimension, Justinian had taken a room in the residence rented by the delegation. It was located on the fourth and highest floor of a grand villa surrounded by several hectares of training grounds. The estate itself was situated by a massive lake, the tributaries of which were the main source of drinking water for the dimension's only city.

  Despite the surrounding beauty, the young man paid none of these amenities any mind. Mikromegas’s words roared in his head, announcing the coming Recategorization, in which dimensions 61 through 66.6 would face each other in an all-out war. The stake was annihilation of an entire dimension.

  'Seems like the worst scenario is playing out.'

  For him, the 66th Dimension had become home; he preferred this chaotic place to the human world. Despite the resentment of the local devils, he felt at ease on the Mountain of Plague and Misfortune and did not wish to lose it. But despite all of this he didn't try to deny the reality.

  'This mess seems completely hopeless.'

  Gazing at the lake beyond the window, he recalled everything he had seen in the arena. Warriors from other dimensions, grim devils radiating power far exceeding what his own delegation of adepts could achieve. And above all, there was something else.

  'That mad Voivode took our entire group out of the fight without any effort...'

  He did not know why Boruta had chosen this specific representation to be sent, but there was no doubt they had landed in the lion's den. Now they had to do everything just to survive until this cursed Recategorization. Worse still, assuming their rivals would not be growing stronger in the meantime seemed like sheer folly.

  A rhythmic knocking at the door roused him from these thoughts.

  "Come in."

  As the door creaked open, a devil he knew very well appeared. Despite an attempt to keep up appearances, his face was also far from normal. Veins pulsed unevenly on his temples, and his smile was far less convincing than usual.

  "I won't take up your time. Boruta ordered this to be passed on as a gift regarding your elevation to the nobility."

  Rudnicki walked to the wooden table in Justinian’s room without ceremony and placed a pouch upon it. Then, not even waiting for a reply, he turned slowly and headed for the exit. Only at the threshold did he pause for a moment.

  "From his estimate its remaining power should last for around an hour. It also requires some time to work as it obviously failed in the arena."

  Saying this, he left the young man alone. Justinian reached for the leather pouch and looked inside.

  'This...'

  He almost immediately recognized the characteristic object he remembered well.

  It was Greedius’s disc, which the devil had used to imprison Voivode Boruta during the fight with Justinian months ago.

  Soon after, he descended to the lower levels of the residence. Strolling slowly, he saw the representatives sent from the 66th Dimension, who, like him, could not have anticipated their impending fate. Although they were behaving calmly, one could only guess how much of that was a facade.

  Justinian saw Rudnicki join the Sarmatians, who were feasting in exceptionally bitter spirits, with a heavy conscience. The Noble Brothers from time to time mentioned Ericus's unhonorable tricks, yet it was clear the event cut them deep. Their toasts were devoid of much of their typical bravado and mischief.

  Descending another floor, he noticed the young devil Franciscus, along with Bogna and the soul of Doctor Totius trapped in a pipe, settling in the salon for their typical evening of poetry. The simple deviless betrayed her anxiety with a nervous laugh, so uncommon for her. Although young Franciscus behaved as usual, even Totius seemed strangely pensive today.

  Feeling the weight of responsibility for them all, he finally reached the great hall on the ground floor. He caught a glimpse of Alfons, who, looking around warily, exited the residence without leaving a word. Inside the hall, however, was someone waiting for the young man.

  "Can we talk?"

  The beautiful Septima asked dryly, her gaze indifferent. He saw no reason to refuse her. Nodding toward the outside, she led him wordlessly to one of the residence's training areas.

  It was a vast, level square covered in short grass, littered with large, black spheres. The deviless picked one up and crushed it with a loud snap. To Justinian’s surprise, this caused the entire area to be covered by a strange, opaque gray shield that evidently possessed magical properties.

  "That will suffice to ensure us some privacy."

  Justinian nodded. Devilish devices could still surprise him. Septima, however, had evidently used them in the past.

  "What is it you want to talk to me about?"

  The deviless looked at him without a word. In her eyes, there seemed to be a vast void capable of devouring anything her gaze fell upon. When she raised one hand to hip height, a strange, hostile darkness began to emanate from it, intensifying with every passing second.

  "Show me the domain you manifested on the moon."