Zac nodded to himself, vindicated by this internal monologue. "Yeah. Self-defense."
He looked down at the writhing mass of bugs trying to reassemble into the shape of a man. "You guys are gross," he told them. "But as long as you keep your pants on… or your helms on, I guess… we're cool. Just… stay over there."
He looked at what the worm-soldier had dropped. The velvet box had spilled its contents. Lying on the floor amongst the worms was a small, incredibly ornate crystal bottle. It glowed with a soft, golden light and smelled divine, like something spearfished from an endangered whale, vanilla, and pure, concentrated ego.
Zac picked it up. The label was written in elegant, flowing demonic script: Celestial Silk - Mane & Tail Rejuvenator. For the Beast Who Demands Perfection.
"Oh," Zac whispered, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Jackpot."
He looked down the hallway where Nock had disappeared. He had the bait. Now he just needed to find the lion.
Zac hurried down the corridor, clutching the bottle of Celestial Silk like a holy relic. He stepped carefully, giving a wide berth to the worm-soldiers marching past, eyeing their joints with deep suspicion. He did not want to know what happened if you accidentally stepped on a greave and squished the operator.
Another massive crash echoed from ahead, closer this time. A concussive blast of air and stone dust rushed down the hallway, hitting Zac full in the face.
He stood there for a moment, blinking grit out of his eyes and coughing into his sleeve. "Okay," he wheezed. "Note to self, learn to duck when loud noises happen. The whole 'fearless statue' routine is bad for lung health."
He brushed the grey dust from his black robes and rounded the corner.
The hallway ended in a scene of catastrophic structural failure. A massive section of the ceiling had collapsed, creating a wall of rubble that completely blocked the passage. The soldiers carrying the furniture were marching in place against the debris, their mindless programming unable to process the obstacle. Zac saw a few crushed gauntlets and sabatons twitching in the pile, bugs leaking out and trying to reform.
In front of the blockage, the demonic Timon and Pumbaa were having a meltdown.
"Sir Nock! Are you alright?!" the warthog shouted at the pile of rocks, wringing his meaty hands.
"We'll get you out!" the rodent wailed, claws scrabbling at a boulder twice his size. "And we'll find the architect responsible for this! I'll have him decommissioned! I'll have him composted!"
Zac walked forward, stepping over a twitching, disembodied pauldron. He grabbed a chunk of concrete and hefted it, testing the weight. "Wow," he said casually. "This looks like it will take a while to clear. Is this the only way to the exit?"
The demon duo jumped as if electrocuted. They spun around, eyes wide with shock as they noticed the human standing between them. They both took a synchronized step back.
"Human?!" the warthog stuttered, his tusks quivering. "What the fuck?"
"What are you doing here?!" the rodent hissed, baring needle-like teeth. "Did you do this? Are you a saboteur?"
Zac looked between them, offering a friendly wave with his free hand. "Oh, hey guys. I'm Zac. Did Nock get crushed, or is he, like, on the other side? Because that robe was doing things to me, and I need closure."
The demons' posture shifted instantly from shock to aggression. They leaned forward, bristling.
"Why do you want to know about the Master?" the warthog grunted, snorting a cloud of angry steam.
"Why is a human even breathing the same air?" the rodent spat. "Vermin! Trespasser!"
"Whoa, easy," Zac said, taking a step back. "I'm Ose's Avatar. Just transferred in. I just wanted to see the lion again. Specifically in the revealing robe. For… strategic assessment."
"Lies!" the rodent hissed. His beady eyes darted down to Zac's hand. He pointed a trembling claw. "You thieving snake! You dare take one of Sir Nock's treasures?!"
Zac looked down at the bottle. "What, this? I found it on the-"
"THIEF!" the warthog snorted in rage, stamping a hoof. "The Great Nock needs that to reduce tangles! His mane is his glory! You seek to sabotage his volume!"
"Hey, hey!" Zac yelped, stepping backward as the massive pig-demon lowered his head to charge. "I was bringing it back to him! I'm pro-volume! I support the mane!"
The warthog didn't listen. With a squeal of fury, he charged.
The warthog was a freight train of muscle and fury, closing the distance in seconds. Zac didn't flinch but he did brace for impact.
Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from the high, vaulted ceiling.
Andras dropped like a stone. He landed squarely on the charging warthog's back, driving his knees into the demon's spine. The momentum and impact slammed the warthog face-first into the obsidian floor with a sickening crunch. The pig-demon skidded across the stone, sparks flying from his tusks, and came to a halt inches from the toes of Zac's boots.
Andras crouched on top of his unconscious victim, perfectly balanced. His head swiveled a full 180 degrees with a soft click of bone to look directly at Zac. His golden eyes were bright with mischief.
"You might not want to be in this part of the keep for a while, darling," the owlman drawled, lighting a cigarillo with a snap of his fingers. "I'm testing new traps on that poof lion's soldiers." He gave a soft, hooting laugh. "The living armor is nearly as stupid as the holy paladins, so it makes for wonderful research. Very accurate data points."
Zac just nodded, staring. His mind was miles away from traps or data points. 'If Nock was crushed to smithereens,' he thought, admiring the way Andras's coat flared around him, 'then the owl will definitely do. Oh my hero. Swooping in from above. So dashing. So lethal.'
"Andras!" the rodent demon hissed, practically vibrating with rage. "You avian arse! Antagonizing our Master Sabnock! Sabotaging the move!"
Andras turned his head back around to face the threat, looking bored. "It's called 'security auditing,' you glorified rat. You should thank me."
The rodent let out a furious, high-pitched cheeping sound that grated on the ears. He waved his spindly arms in the air, weaving a spell of pure filth.
The air around him darkened as thousands of bugs swarmed from the cracks in the walls and the seams of the crushed armor. Beetles, centipedes, and worms coalesced into a swirling vortex. Nearby suits of living armor tore apart, their constituent insects joining the storm. Gauntlets, greaves, and sabatons floated in the air, carried by the buzzing cloud, forming a jagged, metallic tornado around the tiny mage.
Zac leaned over, peering past Andras's shoulder. "Wow," he whispered. "That's… a lot of bugs. Is he going to build a mech suit out of beetles? Because that's gross, but also kinda cool."
Andras sighed, smoke curling from his beak. He drew his cutlass with a scrape of steel. "Bug magic. Why is it always bug magic? It's so messy." He glanced back at Zac, winking. "Stay close, pretty thing. This might get a little sticky."
"Attack!" the meerkat shrieked.
A heavy iron gauntlet shot out of the swirling bug-vortex like a cannonball. Andras didn't even flinch. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he slapped the gauntlet out of the air with the flat of his cutlass. The metal projectile careened sideways and slammed directly into the forehead of the warthog demon, who was just groggily pushing himself up. The pig-man went down again with a grunt.
"Amateurs," Andras sighed.
The meerkat screeched in frustration and thrust both hands forward. The entire swarm surged, a chittering, crawling tidal wave of insects.
"Argh! I hate the bugs!" the warthog yelped from the floor as the wave washed over him, burying him in a mound of writhing chitin.
Andras moved. In one fluid motion, he hurled his cutlass. It spun through the air, burying itself deep in the sconce of the torch nearest the meerkat. The impact shattered the mount, and the torch fell, extinguishing instantly as it hit the bug-carpeted floor.
The meerkat squeaked in terror at the sudden darkness and leaped away, scrambling toward the light of a torch on the far wall.
But for Zac and Andras, the darkness was an open door.
Zac felt a rush of cold air and the firm, unyielding grip of the owlman. The world dissolved into shadow. He wasn't scared but the sensation of being yanked through the fabric of reality was disorienting.