Two new demons crawled out of the depths.

  Inara was the first to recover. She went for the one closest to her. Before the creature could pull more than its torso out of the ground, she swept her scythe across its neck and sent its head skidding across the earth.

  Unlike a normal combat situation, this wound did not heal. The demon did not recover as if never touched, with its health bar impacted but no visible wounds.

  Instead, the demon stiffened and lost its grip. The headless corpse fell back into the depths from whence it came.

  James waited for a notification that the demon was defeated, but no notification was forthcoming. No experience was awarded.

  Inara rose from her crouch. “Without the System, there are no stats. Their strength is equal to ours.”

  The First Demon King laughed and clapped his hands. “Oh very good. Very well done, Inara. You were the only one being held back by the System, and now we’ll get to see what you’re truly capable of. Do you think your party members will be so lucky?”

  Demon let out a righteous yell and smacked the remaining demon with her staff. It still glowed white-gold with the Holy Imbuement, and the demon shrieked and tried to back away from every touch. Where the light struck its cracked skin, the wounds glowed.

  But with every strike, the light puffed away like dust on an ancient carpet, dimming with every use. At last it faded entirely, and Desiree was left holding an ordinary staff. She continued to swing with all her might, but the strength in a ten year old’s arms was no match for the vicious monster the Demon King had summoned.

  The demon finally crawled its way out of the hole. It lunged for Desiree.

  The girl screamed.

  Inara dashed faster than the eye could see. One moment she was at James’s side, and the next, she was at a complete standstill beside Desiree.

  Even the demon looked at her in shock — which only deepened when he tried to take his next step, only to find that the lower half of his legs had been disconnected from his body.

  The demon fell forward. With a snarl of rage it angled its falling body towards Desiree with its arms outstretched. One angry claw scored a deep line across Desiree’s cheek.

  Desiree yelped and jumped back, but it was too late. Her cheek was flayed open, and blood poured from the wound. She pressed her palm against the wound and held her breath. Brutal though it was, she knew how to handle pain for a few seconds.

  But those seconds ticked by, and the pain remained. There was no System to heal her wound and take the pain away.

  Her chin wobbled. Desiree wanted desperately to be strong. She was the one who summoned the Hero. She was the one who joined his party and was determined to fight with him until the end. That meant she had endure; she had to push through the pain. In the stories, didn’t they channel their pain into fury and use that to win the battle?

  But she was also just a little girl, and this was more pain than she’d ever experienced, and it wasn’t healing and it hurt.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Desiree burst into tears.

  Inara put herself between the demon and her daughter. She made short work of the evil monster, but in the time it took her to cut it down, the Demon King summoned three more, these ones looking even larger and deadlier than the first.

  She made eye contact with James.

  He nodded.

  Inara could handle the demons, but if James didn’t stop the Demon King, the bastard would only summon more. Even if they held their own they would tire eventually, and when they did the demons would cut them down.

  Hard as it was to leave them on their own, James turned his back on his party members and stalked towards his friend.

  “I’d rather not kill you, Virgil. If there’s anything left of my friend in there, it’s important that you know that.”

  “Virgil isn’t even my real name, you idiot. I don’t know how my memories were stripped from me, or how I came to be in this…” he searched for the word. “Pocket universe. But whoever runs this dungeon is going to regret it. I am going to learn their every secret and give them hell to pay.”

  “And I could help you do that! What’s been done to you is not right, and there should be consequences for it. And I know you. Even without your memories, you helped me every step of the way. It’s thanks to you that I was able to learn other branches of magic. You’re a good man.”

  The First Demon King scoffed. “You do enjoy playing the hero, don’t you James? But the only thing that makes you a hero is your Class. Someone like me could never partner with someone like you, because in the end, you’re far too reliant on the System. Without it, you’re ordinary; you don’t even know how to fight. Without your stats, you can’t even hold your weapon.”

  Disdain dripped from the Demon King’s every pore. Whatever friendship had existed between them, the return of his memories and his power had snuffed it out.

  “That’s true,” James shrugged, still stalling for time. “I’ve never been anything special. I was never the smartest kid in school or the strongest guy on the football team. What I do have — what I’ve always had — is the willingness to buckle down and try my best.”

  As he spoke, James stretched his awareness to the torches that lined the grotto. They flickered sporadically, but the threads of fire energy remained constant. It was those threads which he reached for. He drew them to him as Master Fiyero had taught him. He knotted those threads into a ball, held constant by his own energy and control. And when he was ready, he spoke the word of power to focus his intention and bring the spell to life.

  “Fireball.”

  The fireball whooshed into life and shot forward. He aimed at the Demon King’s chest; it had been a while since he’d made a fireball the old fashioned way, and he was cautious about how that might affect his aim.

  James needn’t have worried. Master Fiyero’s endless drills had instilled in him the muscle memory he needed for successful spellcasting, and for the first time James was grateful for the rigorous and thorough training he’d received.

  The Demon King, on the receiving end of a fireball, was surprised. The spell burst against his chest and sent him coughing and reeling.

  The extent of the damage, however, was less than James had hoped for. The Demon King’s robes were bespelled with a high magical resistance; since the fireball had landed square on his chest, most of the damage was negated by the defensive enchantment.

  James swore. There went his one chance at surprise.

  The Demon King laughed. His face was blistered from the burn, but he laughed. “I’m impressed, James! You took something away from that book after all. I’ll have to be more careful.” He whispered something complicated and a transparent blue shield appeared in front of him. Ripples caught in the light, and James realized that the shield was made of water.

  “Hellfire Bolt!” Black flames shot from the Demon King’s fingertips. They arced around the shield and made a beeline for James.

  The hero ducked to the side. The damn flames were like homing missiles. They turned with him, but fortunately they only had so much control, and after a couple ducks and dives he was able to lose them. All that maneuvering pressed him up against the water though, with little room to escape.

  The Demon King’s eyes were feverishly bright. More hellfire sparked across his fingertips as he readied a more powerful version of the same spell.

  “That’s fine,” James quipped. “Fireball isn’t the only thing I learned.” Without giving his enemy time to think that through, and without giving himself time to lose his nerve, James leaped towards the water.