Theresa had no reason to question Charles's judgment. Without hesitation, she raised her hand and hurled a massive guiding bolt upward—with a thunderous crash, the basement ceiling blew apart.
Chunks of stone rained down and Charles had to scramble back, throwing up a Shield in time to keep from being brained by chunks of masonry.
While he ducked for cover, Theresa launched herself into the air, soaring up through the opening to float overhead. Peering down at the cambion below, she drew a deep breath and began spellcasting again: "Sunburst!"
An 8th-level spell—Sunburst!
Theresa had only mastered that spell after reaching third rank at the monastery; combined with her bottomless reserves of witch's magic, it was like she'd conjured a miniature sun itself!
Down in the basement, the cambion's face flickered with alarm. In front of him, an absolutely flawless wall of ice sprang up, trying to reflect back Theresa's conjured sunlight—
Buzz—!
Blinding light lanced downward, bounced from the ice, and shot skyward, piercing through multiple layers of the Cassalanter estate ceiling, blasting all the way into the endless sky above!
Bathed in her own reflected radiance, Theresa's face showed only confidence—naturally, as the witch who created the spell, she was immune to its effects.
She held the sunburst in place, letting some of the searing light slip through the ice to roast the cambion; finally, she was starting to inflict some real damage!
"Cough… sigh…"
The cambion seemed shaken, coughing lightly and giving a tired sigh. "Honestly, I never wanted this to escalate."
"But I have to admit, Lord Charles, you're full of surprises. The strength of your subordinates goes far beyond what I'd imagined."
A bad feeling twisted in Charles's gut. Right then, the cambion stepped forward, body expanding, two pairs of horns curving from his brow, vast bat wings unfurling from his back. "The fact you can force me to reveal my true form, Lord Charles, you should consider yourself honored!"
At the sight of his transformation, Charles's eyes flew wide, utterly stunned.
Mephistopheles!
There was no way he could forget that face—he'd faced this boss countless times in the game!
And the more he'd fought (and lost), the more he understood how terrifyingly strong Mephistopheles was. Now, seeing that face here, Charles was floored.
This wasn't just any devil—this was the Archdevil of Cania, the eighth layer of the Nine Hells! The greatest mage in all the Hells, and quite possibly, after Asmodeus, the second strongest being in the pit. This was the very same Mephistopheles Asmodeus himself kept a wary eye on—his greatest rival, a devil with extraordinary privileges in the Hells for one simple reason: he was too powerful to deny.
His true body would be kept in check by countless true gods, making it impossible for him to enter the material plane—but even a single avatar like this was so far beyond Charles, it wasn't even funny.
As soon as the reality hit, Charles couldn't help but curse a blue streak inside.
What the hell!
A major Archdevil—went to all the trouble of sneaking an avatar into the mortal world, not to tempt an emperor, not to corrupt some legendary ancient dragon, not to seduce a vulnerable Laeral Silverhand, but to hang out in a minor noble's basement… and hassle me, a noob tenth-level spellcaster?
What is this guy after?!
"Theresa! Stall him!" Charles yelled. In front of them, Mephistopheles's avatar extended a single fingertip. Without any incantation, a pale blue ray shot forth—
Instantly, Theresa threw herself into the blast's path, intercepting it before it could hit Charles!
Crack—!
She froze on the spot, turned in a split second into a hulking statue of enchanted ice.
But in that single instant, Charles had already reached into his Bag of Holding, whipping out the Blackstaff badge as he called out, "Hey! Blackstaff Madam, I've got Mephistopheles's location!"
"Let's just say… he's found me, too."
...
Earlier, in the main hall of the Cassalanter villa, atop the luxurious carpet—
Buzz—
Accompanied by a spatial vortex, Ammalia Cassalanter's hefty body popped into existence. She landed square on her rear, dazed and pale, still not recovered from the shock and terror just moments prior.
But soon enough, she snapped back, gasping for air, sweat beading down her brow and streaking her thick makeup.
Her meaty hand wiped her brow, smudging another layer of foundation. Remembering the scene she'd just escaped made her blood boil.
Nigel Charles!
You dared try to kill me, you tried to murder a noble!
You must pay for this—you'll pay in blood!
Ammalia was seething with rage inside when, from above on the staircase, a tense and anxious female voice called down. "Lady Ammalia, what's happened here? Where's Priest Charles?"
Ammalia looked up, spotting Sephera on the second-floor railing, still wearing her fitted black suit and looking every bit the timid young girl. "Where is he? We have things to do tomorrow—we need to get home tonight."
Ammalia scrambled to her feet, brushing off bits of dirt, scoffing, "Him? Oh, I'm sure he's enjoying himself plenty right now! Don't bother looking for him, just head back to your room and sit tight!"
Sephera's eyes went wide, her face clouded with disbelief. "What? Priest, he… No, that's impossible—he's not that kind of person."
"Please, I beg you—just tell me where he is. I have to take him home."
Ammalia's eyes narrowed, flashing with scorn. "He's 'not that kind of person'? All men are the same! What, do you really need to see your precious Priest's filthiest side before you'll stop being so stupid, you naïve little girl?"
Sephera suddenly looked on the verge of tears. "Don't talk about Priest like that!"
She even stomped her foot in frustration, playing her role to the hilt—a lovesick, innocent girl. Ammalia cackled, envy and jealousy flashing across her face as she looked Sephera up and down. Raising her hand, she said, "You're so young and pretty—bet your Priest pampers you all the time, huh?"
"Well then, let's do a little experiment—let me use magic to ruin your face, make you uglier than a pig, and let's see if your Priest still fawns over you afterward!"
Sephera staggered back, horror written all over her face. "No—you can't, please don't—!"
The more she begged, the more delighted Ammalia became. She started to chant an arcane spell: "Ice… uh… ugh…"
Suddenly, Ammalia found her whole body locking up, muscles frozen in place—she couldn't make a single gesture. Her throat seemed blocked, and she couldn't force out the rest of the words.
"Ugh— Ugh—!"
On the second floor above, Sephera's look of panic vanished. Her thin lips curled into a mocking, icy smile. "Well? How's it feel now?"
~~~
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