Interlude

  A thousand years ago …

  ‘Ah, I hate this ring of Hell,’ the hero complained. ‘Good for my levels, bad for my skin. Way too hot here for my taste, and the air smells funny.’

  ‘You said this in every single ring so far.’ The cleric rolled his eyes at the hero. ‘It won’t be long, only one stronghold stands, and then we’re off to the next ring.’

  ‘No, seriously, the air smells weird in all of them, but this is the winner so far. How many rings are there again?’ the hero asked.

  ‘Five, if we can believe the records of old,’ the cleric said. ‘One more ring to go, and there will be hardly any demons left.’

  ‘Huh! That should teach them to stay down here and not to mess with the world at large,’ the hero mumbled.

  ‘You are taking this too lightly,’ the cleric commented.

  ‘Am I?’ The hero rose his eyebrows at the cleric. ‘How so?’

  ‘You concern yourself with your own comforts more than with thoughts of the nations destroyed, the millions of lives lost, and with the righteous punishment demonkind is to suffer for their actions. The other heroes from the other kingdoms seem to have a much better attitude. Just saying.’

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  ‘Yeah, no, I’m … very concerned about all those things … oh crap!’ the hero cried out.

  ‘What now?’ The cleric rolled his eyes again.

  ‘There is a hole in my bag!’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I did the enchantment myself; it shouldn’t have a hole in it!’ the hero wailed.

  ‘You fought three champions so far, just in this ring, not to mention their armies, without putting that damned bag down. Of course it would get a hole or two sooner or later,’ the cleric said. ‘I’ll get someone to patch it up for you when we get back to camp.’

  ‘Oh no!’ the hero cried out again, rummaging through his bag, this time tears appearing on his face.

  ‘What did you lose this time?’ the cleric asked.

  ‘The book!’

  ‘What book?’ The cleric was suddenly worried. ‘Please tell me you didn’t lose the Book of Bindings! We need that!’

  ‘No, not that. The picture book.’

  ‘I know I will regret asking, but what picture book?’ The cleric asked, finding it difficult to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

  ‘The one I bought from that merchant before coming down here,’ the hero wailed as if mourning a great loss. ‘I was going to give it to my daughter, my little princess, when we were done here. I poured all my love and adoration into that book! Literally!’

  ‘Oh, you!’ The cleric sighed. ‘You know what? When we get back, I will go with you, and we’ll buy another of those picture books. Hm?’

  ‘But … but this one was really nice!’

  ‘And I’m sure it will make some demons very happy one day.’ The cleric groaned. ‘Now, can we please focus on the tasks ahead of us?’

  ‘Alright, fine, you heartless cleric,’ the hero grumbled, then begrudgingly turned his attention to the castle in the distance: the last fortress standing in the Fourth Ring of Hell.