The Demon Lord Is An Angel
Chapter 107: Glow Up

Chapter 107: Glow Up

Kir awoke to a blue sky and the sounds of birds.

It took him a moment to realize that he was on his back. A back that was spike-free.

After the dreams he’d had, waking up to find himself normal sent a surge of happiness to his face. "Hah-ha!" he cried out, raising his arms to the sky before letting them fall down to his sides.

"Good to see you’re awake," Noir said, approaching from Kir’s side.

Rotating toward him, Kir pushed off the ground.

"Wow, they didn’t hold back when they made you," the beastkin man said.

Kir looked down to find himself a lot more defined than he’d been before gaining his war form. His tail now had some tough, leathery ridges whose position corresponded to his war form spikes, and a quick feel up his own back confirmed that there was now a flexible set of bony ridges protecting his spine. Along his body, sets of leathery scutes gave him a slightly more draconic appearance in symmetrical formations. Thankfully they weren’t sharp, because if they had been his partners would have had to be a lot more cautious in the future.

He was still rather lanky, and he felt taller than he’d been. His feet had grown beyond the capacity to wear normal boots, that was certain, and his four front toes sported claws at the end of much longer toe knuckles than he’d had. His hands, while largely the same, definitely seemed thicker, as did the retractable claws at the ends of his fingernails.

"How, uh, do I look?" Kir asked.

"Se-eh-Severely demonic... although the glowy bit has me confused..." Noir said.

"Glowy?"

Kir looked down, and only then noticed that beneath the olive skin of his chest, a slight, blue glow was illuminating him from the inside out, pulsing slightly beneath his tattoos. He even thought he saw his ribs a bit.

"That’s new," Kir said. "I hope it’s not bad..."

"Well you haven’t turned into mana crystals or exploded so... probably isn’t mana poisoning? Demon physiology wasn’t exactly something I ever thought I’d need." Noir’s ears were turning a bit red on the insides before he looked away. "You should put a shirt on and grab some breakfast. Camp’s just about packed so we can head out as soon as you’re ready."

Kir smiled and reached into his dimensional storage, producing the rest of his uniform and donning it as Stella arrived.

"Oh I’m definitely riding that face when we get the chance for some fun," she said.

"Good morning to you too," Kir reached up, touching his jaw and other features. He didn’t have facial hair, which he’d never really liked, so he wondered out loud why Stella had greeted him like that. "Why?"

"Because I won’t get stabbed in the groin like in your war form. Dragon-faces might be pretty sometimes but yours was a bitch to steer clear of."

Kir recalled a few of their tamer "draining sessions," and what she said made sense. "Should I be concerned about..." he pointed to his chest.

"Not a fucking clue, Kir. But you ain’t exploded so I say we play it by ear."

He cleared his throat. "Where’s Cheshire?"

Stella shrugged. "Who knows. Flew off screaming "Hot," which was what Noir said about you, by the way. Hey did you know he’s in his thirties? He’s got more than just mage-youth going, I tell ya. Took a peek when I caught some lust off him while he was-"

"I’m going to go grab breakfast," Kir said loudly, wanting to end the conversation before anyone else heard Stella.

Breakfast was a slice of snake, which was bland, and water, which had been boiled sometime in the night.

By the time he finished, Kir was able to estimate that he was definitely taller. On the higher side of two and a half meters. Perhaps 270 centimeters, horns included. And speaking of horns, his had grown only slightly longer, yet seemed heavier than he would have guessed they’d be.

He talked about his changes with the group as they commented on his normal appearance.

"Kir is... cute," Sam said, making Kir raise an eyebrow.

Caroon simply snorted before saying, "Good, now he actually looks like a half-demon instead of a Wrathian. Less likely to get us killed on sight now."

Namosa had tsked and said "You look like a bird," staring at his feet. "Just need the wings."

Kir wasn’t about to entertain that notion though. He’d check on his wings later.

Noir, however, took a look at Kir’s uniform and smiled - though it didn’t reach his eyes. "I see you really are from the Academy. That’s some fine cloth, but I can tell they skimped on the mana thread... If I had a kit I could improve it for you. Maybe add a few more enchantments to make it as tough as a gambeson."

"I’d love that," Kir smiled.

They set out about an hour after Kir awoke. And the first thing that happened as he left the clearing was that he hit his head on a low branch.

After sharing a laugh, Kir knew to be more cautious of his new height. The Black Sheep quickly settled into a marching pace, with Noir in the lead and proving to be quite spry, even able to walk up some very steeply angled trees to scout nearby as Stella flew higher and up ahead.

Cheshire returned a day after disappearing, with a dead field mouse that Kir reluctantly accepted before cooking it with their meal and giving it back. The raptor definitely seemed enamored of having an infinite amount of space to fly in, without any of its normal predators about.

The group continued like this for a few days, noticing as they went that the trees were progressively growing more autumnal in coloration. Kir didn’t want to think of how much time he might have lost down in the dungeon. Time moving faster down there might have its uses, but it also would play hell with synchronizing people’s sense of connection with the normal world.

Thus, he inferred why only adventurers and professional delvers bothered to explore deeper dungeons at all. Going down and coming back was essentially shortening one’s life; not to mention potentially losing it.

Noir had a story about a mage who, convinced that dungeons held the key to everything, chose to live in the fourth stratum of the Duat while exploring deeper. After only ten years he returned, but had aged beyond count.

His body had been ravaged by mana poisoning and his mind was paranoid. Before he died, he claimed to have met all the gods and seen the house of the Creator. He spent his last days ranting about a gate - supposedly at the bottom of the Duat - and saying "It wanted my words! It wanted my words!" as he died. Some said he’d rotted away that instant. Others say he turned into mana stone and had been pieced apart for sale.

It was a sad and cautionary tale, meant to discourage people from getting too enamored of the mysterious anomalies.

A week and a half after they set out, Stella spotted their first sign of civilization.

"Got some smoke up ahead," she pointed a bit to their northwest. "Didn’t want to get closer in case they thought I was a pigeon like Cheshy."

Cheshire squawked their disapproval at being called a pigeon, but remained curled around Kir’s shoulders. As the temperature had started to get colder, the raptor had grown more sluggish. With Kir having the highest body temperature, she had taken to occupying his body as much as possible, especially during the night, when she would try to crawl under his uniform blouse to snuggle.

After some back and forth, the Black Sheep figured they could reach the settlement in about a day if they pushed.

Caroon argued that Stella could make herself useful by seeing just what kind of settlement it was, and if it was the Valrian camp where their former employer had recruited adventurers before.

When Kir asked why he was willing to trust Stella - an actual demon - with such a thing, he said, "She’s one of the good ones. And you and she are contract-bound, so if she tries something funny you can do something about it."

Kir had so many problems with that statement. "We’re partners, not master and slave-" Caroon flinched at the word slave "So how about you finally start thinking of her as a person, or you and I can sort this out with our fists." He was so angry that his irises glowed and the sclera of his eyes grew black as he glared at Caroon.

Instead of fighting, however, Caroon raised his hands. "Apologies... It’s just... the Chain Syndicate might be there. I’ll try to... figure out better ways to talk about demons. The problem is we know Ledot had connections to the Syndicate. I don’t want us - any of us - to wind up with another brand on the back of our necks..."

Almost reflexively most of the Black Sheep flinched or reached up to touch where the glowing sigils had once been. The insertion process for the control seals was torturous. A sharp brand with the shape of the spell circle was pressed into the neck at a shallow depth, and then a magic seal made of steel wire was inserted, after which the wound would be cauterized with a hot iron.

Noir had spent many hours in the dungeon breaking and extracting the wire seals. And Sam had done the same for him. They were far less complex than the seals in Kir’s ears, and even though he offered to help, Noir learned firsthand that trying to remove Kir’s seals would be a painful experience for them both, and Stella.

Kir had learned a little about the Syndicate as they’d traveled. They controlled almost the entire slave trade from Sousport on the Serpent Sea to Akai Harbor on the continent of Retha. Their reach, however, was far longer, as they sourced and sold slaves in most of the many major cities of the known world.

He promised himself he would destroy their operations wherever he went.

After a few more minutes of debate, it was decided that Stella would continue to scout close by but not approach the settlement.

Whatever was waiting for them, they would face it together.

After the group meeting, Noir clapped his hands together.

"Alright Black Sheep. Let’s find a stream and make ourselves presentable. Tomorrow is a brand new day!"

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