Clearly, these guards couldn't tell the difference between demons and devils, but whatever Regolas truly was, it was terrifying enough that they scattered, screaming and fleeing in utter panic. For them, there was no thought of fighting left.
Charles looked up at Regolas—now revealed in his true form, eyeing him with unabashed hatred—and had to sigh.
Too slow. Even though he'd just sprinted at a speed surpassing Bolt himself, at this level, his mobility was still coming up short.
Longstrider, that trusty 1st-level spell, sure was simple and effective—on the ground, anyway.
But he couldn't fly, couldn't teleport, couldn't hop through the Ether…
The foe he faced now, Regolas, could do all that. He could fly, teleport, and even Plane Shift straight back to his home turf in Cania if the mood struck him.
So, while Longstrider was great in the early days, it just didn't cut it anymore. He couldn't keep up, and it was all too easy for a powerful foe to get away…
Ah, the curse of melee combat.
Damn it, why does purifying force have to be touch-based?
He grumbled inwardly, but this wasn't the time to obsess over such things. He raised his voice and called out, "Everyone run! I'll handle this fiend myself!"
At once, the remaining guards tripped over themselves to get out. Their imposing airs were gone—just scrambling, terrified men running for their lives.
Within moments, the burning theater held only two figures.
High in the air, Regolas glared down at Charles with venom, instantly realizing who'd ruined his plan tonight.
That bastard!
Ever since this guy showed up, he'd ruined Regolas's plans over and over, stolen the Illusionist's Bracers, snatched their victory over Montport, and tonight, he'd derailed Regolas's grand sacrificial offering to Lord Mephistopheles.
Long ago, the gods had struck a deal with Asmodeus, Lord of the Nine Hells: mortal souls, steeped in sin and refusing redemption, would be delivered to his domain as subordinates, eternally fighting in the endless Blood War as atonement.
So Asmodeus sent his devil envoys to the mortal world, tempting mortals into damnation and harvesting their souls to strengthen his legions.
Eventually, the gods of Order imposed layer upon layer of restriction, so that devils could no longer easily cross into the material world. Any devil active here now was a rare and precious asset, saddled with quotas—fail to deliver and the punishment would be dire!
Right now, that was Regolas's crisis—his Liberl Port operation had been demolished, and he'd had no way of meeting quotas. This grand sacrificial offering tonight was supposed to let him overachieve, so even if he faltered in the next few years, his master would excuse him.
But now?
Ruined. All ruined. All his careful orchestration in tatters, thanks to this man.
Die! Just die already!
The string of failures and tonight's devastation finally pushed Regolas to the edge—he snapped, rage devouring any hint of reason.
Kill him!
No one advances this quickly alone—he's got divine backing, for sure!
If I can kill him, use his blessed soul as an offering for Lord Mephistopheles—tonight might still be salvaged!
With wrath-fueled madness, Regolas thrust out a hand and chanted: "Hold Person!"
A wave of invisible magic assaulted Charles's soul—but "Eldritch Mind" activated immediately, and the spell simply slid off. Charles's gaze sharpened. He drew his +3 battlemage's wand from the Bag of Holding and began his own incantation.
The curse of the Hexblade surged, icy coldness snaking into Regolas's body, sending a shudder through him.
While Regolas shook, Charles conjured four wheel-sized magical sigils, unleashing blazing beams of energy—Eldritch Blasts—straight at the cambion.
A fresh wave of danger prickled Regolas's skin. With a flap of his wings, he spun aside, evading all four blasts as he dove behind a massive stone pillar on the second floor.
whew…
He exhaled deeply, using the pillar for cover. From there, he began spellcasting, hurling three Fire Bolts in a triangular spread toward Charles.
"Absorb Elements!"
Charles moved forward steadily, chanting "Absorb Elements" even as he dodged. His magic lessened the impact of the attacks.
But where the Fire Bolts hit, new flames erupted—carpets, curtains, wooden chairs, and tables went up at once, the fire spreading more and more, lighting the theater like a bonfire. Smothering smoke rolled through every inch of the air.
Behind the stone pillar, Regolas wheezed for breath. As a fiend, flame was nearly nothing to him; he barely needed air, and smoke bothered him far less than a human.
After all, Hell was a whole lot worse than this.
He could fight here nearly indefinitely. Charles, as a human, surely couldn't last long in this mess—at least, not unless he was legendary. That was Regolas's ace—just stall and he'd win automatically!
He believed it utterly.
But just then, four more Eldritch Blasts smashed into the stone column behind him—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Marble cracked and shuddered; even the floor shook. Regolas whirled around, shocked he'd underestimated Charles's spellpower.
Damn, when did this guy get so strong?!
Shapiro said he only beat the Abyssal Lord by getting lucky after the battle…
Ah—I get it. He's desperate! The smoke's suffocating him. He's on his last legs!
Heh. Just you wait. I'll finish you off!
Still raging, Regolas clung to every lie his mind could conjure to justify staying and fighting. With another burst of his wings, he darted to shelter behind yet another pillar.
Let's see how long you last!
Down below, Charles—masked up—did feel some shortness of breath, but his endurance was nowhere near spent. He didn't realize Regolas was in a mindless rage, and so he was actually nervous.
What if this guy realizes he's outmatched and just runs away?
As a veteran who knew Regolas's real powers, he understood Regolas couldn't beat him now. But Regolas could fly, teleport, even plane shift. If Regolas wanted to escape, Charles had no way to stop him.
He had to finish this before Regolas changed his mind!
With that, he focused his mind and reached out telepathically to another creature nearby: "Xanathar, it's your turn!"
On his shoulder, the tiny beholder faded into view—clearly uncomfortable with the flames and smoke, but nodding its main eye resolutely, ready for action.
Taking a lungful of smoky air, Charles took aim at Regolas's hiding spot and unleashed another barrage of Eldritch Blast.
These pillars were supporting the building—destroying too many might bring the theater down. But Charles didn't care. He needed to kill Regolas—fast!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Eldritch energy battered the pillars, sending shockwaves shuddering through the halls. This time, the whole theater seemed to sway.
Behind cover, Regolas sneered, rage driving him ever on. He flared his wings, took to the air again, shouting, "DIE!"
He'd already completed the cryptic gestures and incantation—four Fire Bolts flew from his hands, all zeroing in on Charles.
WHIZ! WHIZ! WHIZ! WHIZ!
But Charles's eyes gleamed. Instead of dodging, he stood his ground and roared,
"Perfect timing—Xanathar, NOW!"
Not only did this foe refuse to flee, he was actually counterattacking!
For Charles, that was the best outcome possible—his foe's pride was his own opportunity.
Ecstatic, Charles poured his magical energy into Xanathar, their link crackling as power surged through the little aberration.
"Go!"
Invigorated by the surge, the mini-beholder let loose a piercing shriek. Without even using its eyestalks, it fired a thick, gray ray straight from its main eye!
~~~
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