«Hey.»
The imp opens her eyes and jolts, nearly slamming her head against the roof of her small cage. She looks toward where a bright, bluish energy floats, bearing a vaguely humanoid shape. Apparently, only she can see the Dungeon Core's presence.
Jimbo asks why everything is so empty. The imp clarifies that the mages usually conduct their experiments in the laboratory. Talking about the subject causes Dowmy to remember the constant punishments and makes her scars itch; she tucks her face under her armpit to nibble at the stump of a wing.
The Dungeon Core promises to talk to the mages about her and perhaps free her. Dowmy has her doubts, but deep down she wants to believe in him. The fact that the Dungeon Core wishes her good work affects her deeply. It's the first time someone has congratulated her, and Jimbo doesn't stop at that kind gesture; he was interested enough to ask about her name, something Dowmy had never thought about.
«Dimp, Pimp, Glimp, Wimp, so many choices.»
Another possible name was Rose.
The imp had been near roses at least a couple of times in her life. They are pretty and smell nice, traits that someone like her feels she can only aspire to in dreams. But in the end, the name chosen by the Dungeon Core is Dowmy.
Dowmy liked the name Rose much better. But as the minutes passed in silent reflection, the imp brought her hands a little closer over her heart as she felt something warm, strange, but not entirely unpleasant.
The name Dowmy meant nothing to her. But ever since she received it, the punishments stopped, she started to feel useful, her wounds were healed, and her wings were returned. Rising again beyond what her spindly legs allowed made her feel free and happy with herself once more. She was no longer an aching bundle wishing to die, but just another living being, almost as valid as the roses.
That truly was the best day of her life.
She was still just any imp, but under the Dungeon Core's direction, her chest felt full for the first time; she discovered how satisfying life is when you have a purpose. Jimbo wasn't the best at conveying his ideas, but he always seemed to be building toward something, and she was happy to collaborate, to be his assistant.
But even with her wings returned and feeling that her life holds some meaning, Dowmy has her limits and her insurmountable mountains. The shadow of Arrax, the human sorcerer who brings pain and death, continues to loom over her. Dowmy understands that he is an impossible rival to defeat or bite; in fact, her numb muscles are incapable of doing anything more than trembling.
"[Minor Flare]!" Arrax exclaims.
-Spell: Minor Flare.
Requirement: None.
Cost: 10 ether minimum.
Description: Concentrates a small flame of compressed heat from repeated fireballs, and then shoots it toward a single target. The power of this spell is usually linked to the user's level and the amount of ether imbued.
A yellow flame appears in front of Arrax's index finger, fire that dances and reflects in Dowmy's pupils. Before the invasion, the imp would have gladly accepted the fire's embrace, but now...
The imp's gaze confronts the mage's. Arrax frowns upon perceiving that the imp's expression is not that of a broken animal nor a test subject in its final throes; there is will inside that small skull, she almost even looks like a person challenging him.
Arrax's lips form an annoyed grimace, and he adds another portion of ether to the flame. The color of the Minor Flare shifts from orange to blue. The fire shoots out.
The point of heat strikes the small body, covers the green flesh, and turns it into a screaming, writhing torch. Dowmy watches, paralyzed and speechless, as the goblin turns to ash before her.
Arrax grits his teeth and turns furiously toward the crystal.
"Are you trying to hinder me?!" he says, and notices the three shadows rising around him, but he doesn't move.
The undeads' clubs are swung in unison at Arrax, but they never touch him. Once again, a red light illuminates the inside of Arrax's cloak, and a barrier appears and pushes the skeletons backward, smashing them against the floor and turning them to splinters.
"You dare go against your father, your creator?!" Arrax remains stupefied, one of his eyes suffering a deep twitch, though slowly his mouth twists into a trembling smile. "Is your potential so enormous that you rebel in our second encounter?!"
A man roars and the ground crunches. The caveman in the distance tears off a piece of the floor with his knobby hand and hurls it. Arrax takes a step back; the projectile passes inches from his face, scratching his cheek before shattering against the back wall. Jimbo does not miss this detail.
«Direct attacks don't seem to affect him. More stone throwers, that's it.»
Despite the worry of his rapidly depleting ether tank, he summons another caveman who teams up with the first, and together they prepare to throw more chunks of flooring.
"[Fireball]!"
The spinning sphere of fire is hurled from Arrax's open palm and collides with the cavemen, exploding like a grenade that obliterates the summons and raises a cloud of smoke and pebbles. Hilda steps back and shields herself from the flying debris with her arm.
Arrax laughs.
"My son, you are still far from matching the naive human! But, even so—!"
Arrax's words are cut short when he feels himself tip sideways and fall. Jimbo opened a gridded pit right beneath the mage, with spikes five meters at the bottom.
"[Fly]!"
Arrax's robes flutter as if moved by a mysterious wind, and gravity fails to pull him into the pit.
«My play isn't over yet!»
Jimbo raises the spikes to crush Arrax against the ceiling, but seconds before the tips can reach the target, Arrax points his hand toward the core and casts [Obedient Doctrine] once again.
The spikes freeze, just like Jimbo. Arrax whistles, impressed, looking genuinely happy.
"My son, your talent corroborates my talent. I am so proud of you. You are the greatest creation of the united kingdoms... This makes me, your creator, a magical practitioner on the level of the sorcerer king."
Jimbo wants to tell Arrax to rot, but even if he could articulate words, the man wouldn't listen.
Arrax's smile shrinks until it disappears.
"But even being a success, this useless attempt at rebellion is unacceptable and a sign that, deep down, you are flawed," Sir Arrax says and twists his wrist.
The pain amplifies and the crystal shudders again, as if threatening to shatter. Jimbo screams.
"The most sensible thing will be to destroy you and create your brother from the remains. I will ensure that with the second Dungeon Core, loyalty to me is burned into his very core."
Jimbo loses the ability to think, and even his screams cease to sound human. Thin cracks appear on the crystal's surface.
"No, leave him alone!" Dowmy screams, helpless.
Sir Arrax ignores the imp's complaints and keeps his eyes fixed on the core. In his gaze, there is a hint of sadness at having to destroy his precious work.
"Believe me, this hurts me more than it hurts you—"
Arrax's words are cut short once again. [Obedient Doctrine] shuts down completely, and the mage's arm drops, hanging limp at his side. Arrax, eyes wide open, looks down, unable to believe that the tip of a longsword is protruding from his chest.