The Demon Lord Is An Angel
Chapter 339: Djet Setting

Chapter 339: Djet Setting

The rearguard lines were a mess.

Ferro could see it from his perch atop a small cliff.

The thunderhorns - for lack of a better term - were great beasts, like bison but with massive clubs alongside their heads, the domes on the side covered in jagged, cube-shaped crystals of iron, which thundered and sparked when one thunderhorn cracked their horn against another’s.

"Pull up camp! Make for the tower!"

The cry went up as it became clear that the herd was riled enough to fight... all because Lanoch - his lionkin owner - wanted "some fucking beef."

It was the standard course of action whenever Lanoch and his band of warriors got into a huge fight, which they always did towards the end of a floor.

Run for the tower and hope nothing hostile was on the other side. The gaps between floors in the Duat were typically safe, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t encountered their share of floors with "edge dwellers."

As a concubine, Ferro wasn’t expected to do any serious lifting, so he spent the time doing what he needed to: watching Lanoch for any signs of weakness. But as he watched Lanoch down thunderhorn after thunderhorn - striking with blows so heavy he mulched some of their neckless heads - he found his mind drifting away from the despair he’d felt ever since Lanoch let Hifta die... or perhaps killed him.

The worst thing was not knowing, because Lanoch had been the only one in the woods with Hifta at the time.

How long has it been?

Time in the dungeon worked differently. And while it was more stable in the Duat - the largest and most lethal dungeon in the world - the differences meant that Ferro was now years older than he had been when he first entered the dungeon...

Turning, Ferro watched the camp for the small figure that had become his clock and calendar. Lanoch’s son, Lawre, had been born in the Duat. He’d spent his entire life journeying with the caravan on Lanoch’s quest to delve deeper than the woman he was replacing, Demon Breaker Halie, whose disappearance had sparked a new round of paranoia from the Tower Lord...

Does he look seven or eight? Ferro wondered. Not that it made much of a difference.

The boy, much to Lanoch’s disappointment was a scrawny lad. More like Ferro if he wasn’t so obviously a leokin, where Ferro was a rust-cat, the smallest of the catkin.

He’d be much bigger if Chisa hadn’t wandered out of the camp...

Ferro remembered when Chisa, Lawre’s mother, had stood up from the campfire one day and simply... walked. Out of the camp, away from the tower, as if she could make the weeks-long journey by herself. It had been a rare night of celebration, following one of Lanoch’s kills - a dragon so big they had to be generous with the meat lest it spoil and go to waste - and everyone was drunk on "caravan hooch," so no one stopped her.

Lanoch didn’t even notice until two days later when Lawre wouldn’t stop crying because he wasn’t being fed...

Had Lanoch not impregnated Tuuchi, one of the other lionkin females, Lawre would have gone without. She had been near enough to term to produce, and it was a tragedy when her child came out stillborn.

Eight... Ferro decided.

It was better to overestimate than to underestimate.

That was one lesson the Duat taught all who dared to delve its deeper floors.

Another was -

"Keep moving! We should have camp set up before our leader catches up."

The one calling out was Vijern, the quartermaster after the last one died. He’d grown from a mostly quiet human to one of Lanoch’s most fervent followers, believing that only through Lanoch would they make it out alive.

Sighing, Ferro stood, letting thoughts of escape and vague whispers murderous intent slip away as he joined what remained of Lanoch’s harem.

As the last male member, the women tended to shun him. But that didn’t mean he was entirely alone in the camp...

"There you are Ferry... Oh, how I missed that fluffy face-" the demon known as "Star" pinched Ferro through his fur. Everyone else thought Star was a demonkin, but Ferro knew the truth...

Because he shared an Oath with the demon.

"Please don’t tease me, Star... you know Lanoch hates people touching his things..." Ferro sighed.

"We’re about to hit the next strata... that means one last floor until we... consummate our arrangement..."

"How can you tell?" Ferro asked.

"I’ve been counting floors of course. You know I can’t stray too far down... the stress of this place is already killing me..." He affected a face of suffering before whispering. "Oh, but we should have some extra time for me to hold up my end of the bargain... Perhaps in the camp, this time?" He traced a finger down Ferro’s spine, sending an involuntary shiver through him.

"Never in the camp," Ferro whispered back.

"Fine... but unlike you I do get tired of not having an audience..." The lithe, mostly naked, and feminine incubus took several steps ahead, whipping Ferro in the butt with his tail as he passed while showing off his "assets."

As much as he hated to admit it, he’d learned a lot from Star about how to apply his own feminine wiles... but the true benefit to their relationship was that Star was increasing Ferro’s capacity for magic... one session at a time.

Ferro felt a twinge of desire, but he knew better than to go any deeper than what their deal required. He shoved those thoughts aside as he followed the rest of the caravan towards the tower at the heart of the dungeon.

That tower was called the Djet, and it was the only constant on every floor, even the ones where it wasn’t visible.

Head towards it, and you would go down. Head away from it, and you would go up... At least until one crossed the Heartfloor.

It was only as they approached the tower that the chronocline became visible. A mirror-like wall where everything inside seemed to reflect far, far slower than the movement outside. An oddity, because inside time would be moving faster, much faster, if they really were about to enter the Fifth Strata.

Following the caravan, Ferro stepped out of the sun-drenched plains and into a realm of twilight.

Dark trees reached out of dark soil, with crystalline leaves tinkling in the lightest winds.

The Forest of Blades...

Ferro knew this floor from its descriptions. He’d read those descriptions out of old journals to Lanoch - who even after all this time hadn’t bothered to learn how to read.

"I’ve got to have some use for you, since we won’t be fucking anywhere near my cub." Lanoch had said when Ferro, in a fit of panic, had asked if he was going to be "left behind." The leokin had gotten it into his head that "fucking girls is proper" for his cub to learn, and so he wanted to set the example by not-fucking Ferro.

In truth, Ferro was overjoyed to not be touched by the one who owned his contractual chains, but Lanoch was still a jealous man, and so Ferro still had to maintain his "chastity" to his master... despite wishing he could draw his sharp little claws through that master’s throat...

Ferro shuddered, and not just because this floor was significantly colder than the previous one.

Star’s version of increasing Ferro’s mana capacity had a lot to do with "injecting" him with the demon’s mana. As a demon of incubus stock, what Star was also doing was heightening Ferro’s desires... both the sensual and the murderous. It had made things easier for Ferro to agree to... things... once they got started, but it also meant Ferro had to be much more guarded about himself.

And as much as he hated to think it, it was easier for him to hold back since Hifta died. He hadn’t so much loved the jackalkin as much as he... found resonance in their shared experiences. Lanoch was ambivalent about members of his harem that were the same sex playing with each other, and so Hifta had been the one Ferro could turn to for genuine comfort...

But that was then.

Being alone was easier without friends...

When he saw where they were making camp, Ferro winced. The place was practically a pit, well below the rootline and covered in shards of crystal. He had to remind Vijern that the trees on this floor could release deadly seed shards that floated on magic for a significant distance before dropping, likely a mechanism to kill fauna while planting themselves, ensuring fresh fertiliser.

While the Quartermaster did listen, he was resentful and muttering for every moment Ferro was in his sight. It took an hour before the caravan found an escarpment that was relatively clear of the trees.

Even after hours of setting up camp, Lanoch still hadn’t caught up.

Maybe the chronocline for this floor is significant? There had been other anomalies too. Like the bubble that regressed every living thing within it to a younger form before they disappeared after turning into fetal slush. Or the bubbles where highly improbably things occurred, and physics broke down entirely.

The only way to survive those was to leave as soon as possible.

Ferro was about to dig through his things when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"It’s ti~ime," Star teased, then pulled something out from behind his back. "Looking for this?" He held the book that was Ferro’s lifeline through magic in the air.

"Give that back!" Ferro almost-shouted.

"Ugh, don’t be a bore. I’ve already read it. The one writing in the margins sounds like an insane version of someone I know. Hundreds of elements... what drivel. Even Maledict wasn’t that addled..."

Everything in the book - everything not written by the original author - was true, at least as far as Ferro had tested.

"What do you want?" Ferro asked, even though he knew what the likely answer was. It was time for his next "injection" of mana to force his gate to open wider.

Star smirked and leaned in, the book going to his waist as he bent forward.

"Sex of course... and perhaps a reminder of our deal..."