The Gate in the sky had not yet closed. The terrible aura from Nessus, the ninth Hell, tainted the air.
Tuva the pit fiend teleported back to its original position. Its enormous claws were like stalactites and stalagmites, and pinched between them was a fork made of some unusual material.
The Thayans faced it calmly. The wizard who had been ambushed lay on the ground, a huge see-through wound in his chest dark with corruption. Then it healed at a visible speed. His undead body had not perished from that one strike. He stood back up and awkwardly wiped the muddy water from his face.
Everyone looked at Tuva. Everyone looked at the fork in its hand.
"That is the scepter?" The Red Wizards could hardly believe it, and at the same time, they were so furious they nearly went mad. They never would have dreamed that their dead companion had actually obtained the target, and that it had been in their hands all along.
The pit fiend pinched the plastic fork with a solemn expression and chanted blasphemous words, attempting to attune itself to the artifact.
A cold wind blew from the Gate in the sky, as if reminding Tuva that it was time to return, hand the artifact to its master, and let its master present it to the supreme being of the Nine Hells. After that, all it had to do was wait for its reward.
The Red Wizards' expressions changed. "It's trying to escape! Stop it!"
Clusters of high-circle evocation spells erupted. The pit fiend was immune to fire and poison, and it had powerful resistance to magic. This was destined to be a hard fight. They had already spent some spell slots in the earlier battle with the druids, and now they were beginning to run short.
Tuva gave a cold laugh. Furious hellfire surged from its palm and turned into a carpet of flames that devoured the earth, spreading outward in a raging tide.
The druids were swept into the battle as well.
Frost and surging waves of water elemental power blocked the advance of the hellfire. The soil melted in the flames and became flowing glass, running freely across the ground.
"Lock down space with Dimensional Anchor! It can use Greater Teleport at will, so don't let it take the initiative!" A Red Wizard summoned a writhing black tentacle and bound Tuva's right leg.
[Evard's Black Tentacles] was immensely powerful. Its firm muscles could leave a lion unable to move. The pit fiend simply stomped hard and tore the tentacle apart.
"You are all courting death!" Tuva looked excited and cruel. It deliberately ignored the Gate's repeated summons and focused entirely on the fight, while secretly continuing to try attuning itself to the artifact fork.
As long as it could draw out the power of this treasure, perhaps it would become the next duke. Even if it had to turn the artifact in, it would have to hand it directly to Asmodeus, Lord of the Nine Hells. It could not let a middleman take the profit.
The fiend beat its wings and took flight, then cast [Meteor Swarm]. The ninth-level evocation spell summoned four flaming meteors, which crashed down and smashed several Red Wizards who were unable to dodge into pieces.
The earth trembled beneath the devil's tyranny.
The Red Wizards were defeated one after another. Their undead bodies were torn apart by the fiend, then stripped of their necromancy and reduced completely to corpses.
The druids stood together and fell into despair.
Tuva had vented its violence. Though it was not an abyssal demon obsessed with battle, it still felt delighted in both body and mind.
"Elf, I can smell your goodness. How sweet. In Hell, a soul like yours is a rare commodity. I will use the most terrible punishments to squeeze out every last drop of your soul's energy. Wail and fall in agony..."
The druid suddenly looked behind the fiend.
Tuva heard hoofbeats, urgent as war drums, with a presence that seemed to trample the earth itself.
A mass of smoldering fire charged toward them. The rider on the horse tightened the reins, and the swift horse reared before coming to a halt.
Skyl looked up at the sky and stared for a few seconds at the existence behind the Gate. Then he withdrew his gaze.
The female elf cried out in surprise, "Skyl!" The other druids also looked invigorated.
The warlock nodded to them, then pointed at Tuva. "You took my eating fork."
"Yes. Unfortunately, it has fallen into my hands."
"So you do not plan to return it."
The fiend smiled. "I agree that private property is inviolable. We can draw up a contract. Let me serve you for a hundred years in exchange for this artifact."
Skyl laughed. He patted the Book of Mora in his hand. "Did you hear that, Mora? A devil is willing to serve me for a hundred years."
A sharp-toothed mouth grew from the cover of the Book of Mora. Its lazy, deep voice spoke in an utterly fawning tone. "Ah, my lord, my great lord, such a little devil is not worthy to attend at your side. Why not hand it to me? Your faithful Mora will turn it into a leather stool for your rest. It will live quite well and can tell you jokes from Hell."
Tuva's smile faded. It said coldly, "It seems you have no interest in contracts."
The warlock reached out, and the fork in the pit fiend's claws appeared in his palm. Holding the artifact again, he said to Tuva, whose expression had changed drastically, "Have you ever heard of the Pact of the Blade? This weapon is bound to me. You can't take it."
Tuva roared in fury. Before it could flap its wings and rise, a ghostly green tentacle suddenly emerged from beneath its feet and wrapped around it.
The pit fiend struggled with all its strength, but that slick, damp tentacle was tougher than adamantine. It could not break free at all, and its teleportation was restricted at the same time.
"What is this? This isn't Evard's Black Tentacles!"
It was a tentacle of Hermaeus Mora.
Skyl gently waved the fork as if plucking the warp and weft of the Weave. A vast tide of magic gathered, forming thousands of glowing force swords.
Tuva felt the artifact's power and let out a gasp of awe. "How is this possible? It is practically the source of the Weave itself. No wonder even the great one wishes to obtain it."
Before it could finish speaking, the surging eldritch blades turned into a waterfall-like torrent and severed the fiend's neck.
At the edge of death, the fiend shouted, "I wish to return safely to Hell!"
[Wish]
The mightiest spell, with the power to change the world.
The Gate let out a terrifying tremor. A beam of black light fell, about to teleport the fiend away.
Skyl looked up and shouted, "Ao! I wish this person's wish were nullified!"
Someone clearly had stronger backing.
In the pit fiend's grief-stricken, furious gaze, the teleportation beam suddenly vanished, and its head crashed to the ground.
The druids cast their spells together, closing the ominous portal to Hell.
The wound in the sky slowly healed amid the howling of nature spirits. The dark clouds scattered, revealing a clear blue sky. Sunlight poured down, making the land shine. Once again, it was a beautiful season that made people reluctant to leave.
The fiend's head was almost taller than a horse's leg, so there was no way to hang it from the saddle. Skyl plucked out one crimson eyeball as a trophy and let the Book of Mora devour the rest. It counted as waste disposal.
The druids came forward to thank Skyl.
"I am very interested in the path of nature." Skyl nodded and smiled. "If you don't mind, you may travel with me. Also, no matter what revelation led you to pursue my weapon, you will not get what you want in the end."
Then he looked at Barenda, the dwarf who had lost his soul.
"Uncle and nephew killing each other." Skyl pondered briefly, then stepped forward and said, "Dwarf, do you want to resurrect him?"
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