The "Silver Spears" advanced through the dungeon with disconcerting arrogance. Thanks to Barnabas's guidance—who seemed to treat Leo's deadly traps as mere garden obstacles—they avoided the pits of spikes and clouds of toxic gas without even breaking a sweat.
"See?" Barnabas whispered to the adventurers as he nibbled on a piece of dried mushroom. "I know this temple like the back of my hand. The demons that haunt this place are... let's say, very keen on interior design, but not so keen on strategy."
Suddenly, the group emerged into the throne room.
Silence fell like a guillotine. In the center of the room, bathed in an unhealthy purple glow, Leo stood before his obsidian seat. His massive silhouette, ebony skin, and pulsating armor exuded an aura of power so heavy that the air seemed to vibrate. At his side, Vark, his gaze icy, held an iron scepter, like a vizier of hell.
The leader of the adventurers stopped short, his hand on the hilt of his sword, sweat beading on his forehead.
"By the Gods... this is no Rank E Lord. Look at that presence..."
Leo tightened his grip on his scythe. The two skulls on the weapon began to sneer, sensing the smell of fresh blood.
"Finally," Leo growled, his voice resonating like an earthquake. "It took you long enough to reach your own execution.
The warrior let out a war cry and lunged forward, his sword glowing with a sacred light. Leo raised his obsidian blade, ready to turn the hero into a trail of ink on the ground.
That's when Barnabas threw himself between them, arms raised to the sky, his pointed hat askew.
"STOP! STOP EVERYTHING!" yelled the old mage with such convincing distress that the warrior stumbled in his momentum.
"Barnaby! Get out of the way! It's the demon!" cried the thief of the group.
Barnaby turned to the adventurers, his eyes teary (probably from the mushrooms). He pointed a trembling finger at Leo, who stood frozen, the scythe inches from the mage's skull.
"You don't understand!" whined Barnabé.
"He's not a demon! He's my son! My poor little Leo!"
A deathly silence fell. Leo felt a nervous tic twitch his demonic eyelid.
"Your... what?" he growled, breathless.
"Look at him!" Barnaby continued, sobbing loudly. "He's possessed by an evil spirit of Design! A birth curse! He mutated, he grew up, he turned completely black, and he wants to redesign everything! But deep down, he's just a nice boy who ate too many wild berries in the forest!" "
The adventurers lowered their weapons, their gaze alternating between the terrifying two-meter-tall monster and the old man in tears.
"Your... son?" repeated the warrior, completely unsettled. "But he has horns. And a talking scythe."
"He's going through a rebellious phase!" cried Barnaby, turning to Leo with a desperate look that screamed, Play along or we're dead!
"Come on, Leo... say hello to the nice gentlemen. Don't be shy like you were when you had the magical chicken pox."
Leo looked at Vark. The advisor had hidden his face in his hands. Maurice, in Kaelas's orbit behind a pillar, burst out laughing.
Leo had to make the most difficult decision of his new life: slaughter everyone and risk an army of reinforcements, or suffer the ultimate humiliation. He slowly lowered his scythe, his demonic face contorting into a grimace of pure mental agony.
"... Hello," he said in a voice that could have shattered crystal.