Piper reached the great bronze door and unceremoniously dumped her friend on the ground. She tugged off her glove with her teeth before pressing her bare palm against the metal surface. For a moment, nothing happened.

  Please, please let this door work like the other one.

  The soldiers were rapidly closing in on them, and she didn’t know what she would do if the door didn’t open. In the distance, she could hear the faint sound of drums and trumpets. The duke and his Crimson Guard were approaching.

  “Come on,” she whispered urgently under her breath. “Open already.”

  Then, as if in answer to her prayers, the door slowly began to rise into a slot in the ceiling. Unlike the smooth motions of the other one she’d encountered, this one was jerky, almost like the mechanisms were broken. The door ground to a halt about halfway up but still gave them more than enough space to enter.

  Piper ducked down and motioned for Ophelia to follow. Her friend was sitting in the snow, looking around with unfocused eyes. As she watched, the girl began to tug off her clothing. What was she doing?

  “I’m so hot,” Ophelia murmured. “Aren’t you hot?”

  With a glance over at the charging soldiers, Piper grabbed her friend and dragged her inside. They had only seconds to close the door. She could figure out what was wrong with Ophelia once they were safely inside.

  Reaching up, she touched the door again. There was a grinding sound, and it began its shuddering descent. But it wasn’t moving nearly fast enough. The soldiers would reach them long before it closed. She had to buy them some time.

  Piper ignored Ophelia tearing off her clothes and unslung her bow. She didn’t want to kill anyone, but maybe she could injure them. An arrow to the knee would certainly slow them down.

  “Finally!” Gorebark cried as she gripped it. “Some action!”

  She drew an arrow and loosed in a practiced motion. The arrow soared out and slammed into a man’s hip. The force of the impact spun him around. She winced at missing his knee. But at least she’d taken him out of the fight.

  As two others stopped to help the injured soldier, she updated her calculations to three soldiers out of the fight. Only another twenty to go.

  She nocked another arrow, but then a crossbow twanged. Out of nowhere, a bolt appeared and slammed into her shoulder. She didn’t even have time to cry out before the bolt exploded; she was sent tumbling backward until she slammed into the stone wall.

  Sitting up woozily, she shook her head to clear the stars from her vision. When she glanced down, she was horrified to see that her shoulder had been shredded. Apparently, Virgil wasn’t playing around anymore.

  Piper activated [Demonic Blood] and a stinging pain spread through her shoulder. The skin glowed like metal heated on a forge before the wound healed shut. As a nice little side effect, she felt a pleasant warmth spread through her body.

  Outside, the soldiers had slowed, many of them readying their own bows. But she’d succeeded in slowing them down. The door had continued grinding downward, and it would close in a matter of seconds. Meanwhile, none of the soldiers were close enough to follow her inside.

  With a boom, the bronze door thumped against the floor. Immediately, they were plunged into inky darkness. The sounds from outside disappeared, being replaced with the dull thrum of distant machinery.

  Piper didn’t move, every muscle tense, waiting to see if the door would reopen. As the seconds stretched out, she relaxed slightly. Either they didn’t want to open it and eat an arrow to the face, or they couldn’t open it.

  Now all she needed was some light. Once again, as if in reaction to her thoughts, aetherstones flared to life along the corridors, though there were great gaps in the illumination. As light flooded the corridor, she realized a great battle had taken place here.

  The stone floor was deeply scarred from what looked like enormous claw marks. And hundreds of imp bodies were piled almost chest high in the tunnel. Many of the spaces where aetherstones should sit had been gouged out, almost as if a great hand had scooped them out of the rock wall.

  But none of that mattered right now. She had to figure out what was wrong with Ophelia. While she’d been dueling with the enemy archers, the young woman had stripped down to her small clothes.

  Piper hurried over, untying her cloak, and draped it over the girl’s shoulders. But her friend simply shrugged it off. “What the heck are you doing?”

  “I’m too hot,” Ophelia mumbled. “This place is like a furnace.”

  “Are you crazy? It’s practically an ice box in here.”

  Ophelia stumbled forward, steam rising from her body. If anything, the young woman should be freezing. Why was she complaining about being too hot?

  A memory tickled at the edge of Piper’s mind. During one of her disease flareups, she remembered watching a survival show with her dad. During the show, a crazy guy had been camping in the northern Canadian wilderness during the winter.

  Honestly, who wanted to do something like that?

  But she vividly remembered him saying feeling hot and undressing was a symptom of hypothermia. Did Ophelia have that?

  If so, how could she warm her friend up? She didn’t have any wood or anything with which to start a fire. And her friend was determined to strip naked. Then, a crazy idea popped into her head.

  Piper rushed over to Ophelia’s side. Using her far superior strength, she pinned the younger girl in place and wrapped her cloak around both their bodies. Then she ripped her dagger free from its sheath. Even in Ophelia’s addled state, her eyes widened at the sight of the blade.

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  But Piper’s dagger wasn’t for Ophelia. She plunged the weapon into her forearm. Pain exploded up her arm and almost made her yelp. However, this was the only way she could think of to help her friend.

  Wrapping one arm around Ophelia, making sure to keep her injured one far away, she activated [Demonic Blood]. Her arm glowed as heat flooded through her veins. As the wound healed shut, the surrounding air warmed noticeably.

  For the next few minutes, she held Ophelia tightly, hoping the heat from her racial skill would be enough to thaw her friend. If this didn’t work, she didn’t have a backup plan. Why hadn’t she gathered more supplies before departing?

  “I’m-I’m freezing,” Ophelia stuttered.

  Piper nearly sagged with relief at her friend’s words. “It’s because you’re almost naked, you lunatic.”

  “Why… why did you take off… my clothes?” Ophelia’s teeth were chattering so badly she could barely speak.

  “You think I took them off?” She gaped at the young woman. “Why in the world would I do that?”

  “You’re the one who dumped me in the snow. Is this all revenge for poking you once or twice?”

  “Once or twice!” Piper exclaimed. “I’m pretty sure I have permanent bruises from your stick attacks.”

  “I didn’t know demons were so soft.”

  Piper ignored her friends’ barbs and brought her in for a hug. She closed her eyes and squeezed her tightly. Then she leaned back, her cloak falling to expose her arms. “You should really get dressed.”

  “Oh really? You think I should get dressed in winter? How did you get so smart?” Ophelia grinned, but the mirth didn’t reach her eyes. Her skin was waxen, and she looked exhausted.

  “Yes. Otherwise, the sight of you is going to scare the demons down here.”

  “If I had my stick right now, you’d so be getting poked.”

  While Ophelia gathered up her clothing, Piper stood to inspect the room. The walls at the entrance had numerous carvings on their surface depicting species of demons she’d never seen before. And as always, a black dragon sat at the center of them all.

  She moved over to the corridor and examined the imp corpses. They looked similar to the ones she’d encountered in the Infernal Realm. Unlike the harroth, they didn’t look decayed at all. In fact, if not for what she’d heard about demons, she would have assumed most of them had only died recently.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she noted that Ophelia was pulling on her sweater. She opened her mouth to speak when a loud boom reverberated through the room. Someone was trying to batter their way in here. Had the duke finally arrived?

  They exchanged glances, but neither of them said a word. Together, they headed deeper into the tunnel. After a few steps, she noted that her friend was struggling to walk, so she offered her hand. They gripped each other tightly as they picked their way past the piles of demon corpses.

  After walking for a short distance, they arrived at an intersection with three bronze doors. The first one had what looked like a rock monster hammering on an anvil. The second one had an image of monstrous demons bound in chains. And the last one had a pool of liquid carved into its surface. Above the pool hung hundreds of humans, their blood draining down into the basin.

  “I’m thinking demon with the hammer?” Ophelia said, her eyes wide.

  Piper nodded her head. There was no way she was going into the other two rooms. While she believed most things down here were long dead, she didn’t want to take any chances. And she certainly didn’t want to see a lake of blood.

  Ding! Your racial skill, Demonic Intellect has reached level 8.

  She ignored the notification and extended her hand to touch the door with the smith on its surface. But she froze as she heard a slurping sound from the tunnel behind them.

  Spinning around, she was confronted by a foul black liquid dripping out from some sort of ventilation shaft in the ceiling. As she watched, a torrent of the fluid poured out and slowly solidified on the floor. It was a monstrous ooze.

  Piper froze, hoping that it wouldn’t notice them. But it immediately began to creep toward Ophelia. The thing had to be at least twice the size of the one she’d fought back at the farm. And it looked a lot meaner, if that was possible for a gelatinous monster.

  She used [Identify] to decide if she should attack or run.

  Black Ooze, Level 76.

  The creature was a much higher level than herself, but her demon stats gave her the edge. She should be able to take it down without too much trouble.

  “Let me guess,” Gorebark said. “You’re not going to kill that either?”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Piper replied, unslinging her bow. The dark fluid made it impossible to see the ooze’s core, but she didn’t need to when she had [Demonic Mark]. Her arrows would splatter the creature against the walls.

  She nocked and loosed quickly, the arrow punching straight through the ooze. I hope that counts as a hit, she thought to herself. Or this will be a more difficult fight that I thought.

  Her second arrow made the ooze jiggle with what she assumed was fury, and it increased its pace. “Get behind me,” she called out to Ophelia. “This might… explode the ooze.” But as usual, her friend ignored her warning and raced forward.

  Piper fought down her frustration as she was forced to lower her bow. Apparently, Ophelia hadn’t learned anything during their last fight with an ooze. Did she want another scar on her face?

  Ophelia drew her shining short sword and slashed at the creature. The blade sizzled as it passed through the gooey body, carving off a massive chunk. Then the young woman danced back to avoid the pseudopod counterattack before ducking behind a pillar.

  Once Ophelia was clear, Piper raised her bow and launched her third shot. When it struck the ooze, the bow’s [Demonic Mark] detonated with a deafening boom. The creature exploded as if someone had stuck a piece of dynamite inside a bowl of Jello. The black liquid sprayed out and covered the walls in sticky chunks. Luckily, only a few drops landed on her.

  Piper quickly used [Demonic Blood] to counteract the acid, and her mana drained slightly as her burns healed. Then she glanced over at Ophelia to make sure she was alright. She breathed a sigh of relief to see the pillar had fully protected her friend.

  Notifications flooded her vision as the contents of the ooze’s body dripped down the walls.

  Congratulations! You have slain a Black Ooze, Level 76.

  A significant bonus to experience has been granted for slaying a higher-level creature.

  Ding! Your race, Shadeling has reached Level 18.

  …

  Ding! Your race, Shadeling has reached Level 20.

  Ding! Your class, Deceiver has reached Level 14.

  …

  Ding! Your class, Deceiver has reached Level 16.

  This was followed by more notifications.

  Ding! Your racial skill, Demonic Blood has reached level 23.

  Ding! Your skill, Archery has reached level 9.

  Ding! Your skill, Archery has reached level 10.

  Ding! Your skill, Archery has reached level 11.

  Ding! Your skill, Identify has reached level 4.

  “I got the kill notification,” Ophelia cried out. “I’m going to get so many levels when I awaken. This is awesome.”

  “You could have gotten yourself killed,” Piper said, realizing she sounded just like Ethel. “I could have handled the ooze.”

  “I know you could because you’re amazing. But I needed some more deeds. It’s only a few weeks until I awaken, remember?”

  “So, you can kill stuff,” Gorebark remarked in a dry tone. “There is hope I won’t forever remain a level 2 bow.”

  Ophelia turned back toward the door and raised her hand again. But then she heard what sounded like running water coming from the ceiling. She looked over her shoulder to see dozens of oozes pouring out of the shafts.

  It looked like the one she’d killed had friends. And they seemed pretty ticked off by what she’d done.