HH 8 - Shoulder Demon

Castor began to stumble over to his toolbox and piles of stuff, but Gully put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Hey, go ahead and drink one of those healing pots you got from Lord Bythraxomonius,” he said.

“What about the potion cooldown?” Castor asked.

“Full Restore potions don’t trigger the cooldown. That’s part of why they’re so valuable.”

Castor checked his debuffs to make sure, but didn’t see anything that said he couldn’t drink another potion, so he went back to the potion parcel and drank one of the dozen within. Unlike the Full Restore, normal healing potions didn’t work instantly. The potion added +5,000 to his health regeneration, which meant he’d be back to full in about twenty minutes.

Castor checked on his poor toolbox. It had taken some hits from the [Hero]’s final move, and it was dented and scored. The enchantment that expanded its interior still worked, so Castor started shoveling his stuff back inside. Gully even gave him a hand, eager to carry out Lord Bythrax’s orders.

Some of the goods had been damaged or destroyed, and dozens of compartments had been cut through. Because his gear was mostly in piles, they couldn’t get everything to fit back into the box without spending hours reorganizing it. Castor would need to figure it out later. Gully pulled a large sack from his thong, and they stuffed everything that wouldn’t fit in his toolbox into the bag.

By the time they were done, Castor’s body was back in peak condition. In fact, he felt better than he ever had. His muscles were more solid, his joints and tendons were more flexible, and he felt lighter on his feet. A quick check downstairs confirmed that his severed manhood had fully regrown, and he took out the clothes Lord Bythrax had traded him.

Inside the package was a plain pair of underwear of a make Castor had never seen. Gully told him they were called boxer briefs, and they were softer than anything Castor had ever felt. The fit was perfect, and they were roomy enough that Castor wouldn’t constantly need to adjust himself, like he needed to do with all his other undergarments. There was a pair of thick socks made from a similar material, and an absorbent shirt that hung down past his hips.

There was a pair of canvas work pants with an impressive amount of flex to them, and a belt that Castor sniffed to make sure it wasn’t made of human skin. He couldn’t identify the hide, but finding that it wasn’t made of his people, he didn’t think too hard about it. He pulled out a dark, long-sleeved button down that looked like it could stand up to some abuse, and a pair of overalls that fit nicely atop everything else.

A pair of steel-toed work boots rounded out the essentials, and there was a hat, gloves, and toolbelt to boot.

“Those are pretty nice,” Gully commented as Castor went to strip the [Hero] of everything he had and toss it into Gully’s bag.

Castor spread his arms to show off the clothes a bit. “Definitely nicer than anything else I’ve ever owned. They seem like they’ll hold up well.”

“Did you inspect them?”

“Uhhh, no…” said Castor. He focused on his overalls and a window popped up informing him of their attributes.

Sturdy Overalls of Comfort and Repair

Highly resistant to all normal wear and tear

Environmental Resistance

Self-Cleaning

Self-Repair

The overalls were difficult to damage, would keep Castor comfortable in any type of weather, and clean and repair themselves over time. Inspecting the other items, Castor found similar effects. The gloves, belt, toolbelt, and boots even had the Immutable affix, meaning they couldn’t be destroyed. 

The hat would keep the sun out of his eyes, no matter where it was, even if he looked directly at it. The gloves improved his grip, the boots had an easier time over difficult terrain, and Castor found a handkerchief in the pocket of the overalls that could absorb up to ten gallons of liquid before it needed to be wrung out.

The handkerchief had the image of a naked succubus relaxing in an alluring pose embroidered onto it, which Castor wasn’t enthusiastic about. Still, he was a practical man, so he tucked it back into his pocket.

Dressed, equipped, and finished looting, Castor and Gully set out.

“Hey Gully,” said Castor. “Where’s a place we can talk in private? Somewhere no one will eavesdrop.”

“Hmm, my vault is probably the best place,” said the Wrath Demon. “Why?”

“Let’s say I have an offer to make you, but it’s… exclusive.”

Gully grinned. “Hmmm. In that case, let’s head to my office. Which is my vault, in case you didn’t pick up on that.”

“Yeah, I got it, Gully.”

The trip was relatively uneventful. Plenty of demons wanted to talk to Castor for one reason or another. Some wanted to meet the Heroslayer, others wanted to work out business deals–the word “merchandising” kept coming up–and more than a few wanted to bed the now-infamous [Handyman].

Gully acted as Castor’s bouncer, turning the demons away and tearing limbs from those that were more aggressive with their overtures. Gully’s succubi were disappointed that Castor was no longer nude, but they were otherwise polite and the pair made it to the demon’s vault in good time.

“Before we talk about a deal, let me give you some advice,” said Gully.

“Advice?” said Castor. “What’s your angle?”

“Look, I’m not an idiot,” said Gully. “I know you fucking hate demons. That’s fair, I hate demons too. Besides myself, they all suck ass, and not in a good way.” Gully paused and glanced nervously at the ceiling. “Uh, Lord Bythraxomonius is wonderful as well. His ass sucking is peerless, I’m sure. Anyway, being a Heroslayer is gonna put you in a tough spot if you don’t have allies. Since you and I are, eh, not enemies. Acquaintances?”

“Definitely not friends,” said Castor. “How about ‘associates’?”

“Yeah, ‘associates’ is good. Since we’re associates, I’ll get a decent bump in stature, mainly because people are gonna want to use me to get to you for whatever reason. That only lasts so long as you’re alive. Besides that, you clearly got some sort of go-juice from that [Handyman] class that you aren’t telling me about, which is fine. I wanna be on your good side in case you need help making some corpses and taking their shit one day. Also, so you don’t come back and murder me if you somehow get strong enough.”

Castor thought that over and grunted. “Okay. What’s the advice?”

Gully grinned and motioned to the massive chairs. The pair sat, and Gully reached to a shelf behind him to grab a decanter and some glasses. He poured them each two fingers of an amber mystery liquid and slid one over to Castor. The human glanced down at it speculatively.

“It’s whiskey, man,” said Gully. “And it’s not made with the tears of the innocent or anything. It gets a single drop of Unicorn blood per barrel, but nothing a squeamish human should have a problem with.”

Castor frowned, but took a taste. It was warm and smooth, making him feel the way he imagined people felt after climbing out of a relaxing sauna. As far as cozy and enjoyable activities went, Castor really didn’t have much to measure it by. It was good, but the feeling made him deeply uncomfortable for some reason. He decided to take his time with the drink.

“You still got eight open skill slots?” asked Gully.

“Yeah.”

“Take Reconnaissance,” said the demon. “It lets you inspect people to get their Level and Class, which is info you’re gonna need to know before you decide to fight someone.”

“Look, I don’t plan on becoming a soldier or thrice-cursed adventurer,” said Castor. “I don’t plan on fighting anyone.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” said Gully. “You’re angry, you’re a cold-blooded killer, and you’ve been living with demons for thousands of years. People are going to fuck with you, and your natural response will be violence.”

“Why would people fuck with me?”

“They’ll do it because they can. You’re low-level and you have fucking [Handyman] as your class, so you look like an easy target. Next, they’ll do it because they feel disrespected. You barely show demons who could crush your skull with a thought any respect, and the only reason you’ve survived is because of your immortality. People are gonna demand you kiss their dick for being higher-level than you, and you’re gonna stomp their heads until their brains are paste on the floor. They’ll try to do the same to you first.”

Castor leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table and rubbed at his face. He took another sip of the Unicorn-blood whiskey, trying to come to terms with what Gully was saying. He had little idea what the culture outside Lord Bythrax’s realm was like, and there was every chance it would be just as bloody and merciless as the demon realm.

“Fine,” he said. “What else can Recon do for me?”

“It does what it sounds like,” said Gully. “But if I were you, I’d take the full line of specializations for Inspect. Not only does it give you more information on other classers, it will also hide your information from them. When I first inspected you, I saw [Handyman] as your class. As soon as you survived that first hit from the [Hero], I inspected you again, and saw that your real class was [Eternal Handyman]. I don’t know what tier that is, but ‘Eternal’ sounds fucking high.”

“What do you mean by ‘classers’? Why not just say ‘people’?”

“Back in your day, everybody got a class, right?”

“Everyone who lived to their class day, yeah.”

“It’s different now,” said Gully. “Classes are getting more rare. It’s been going on for a while, but nowadays you have to earn a class. Even shitty classers like [Baker]s and [Woodsman]s have to work for it. Combat classes? Way harder to get and a lot less common.”

“What about class stones?” asked Castor, then answered his own question after a second of thought. “Ah. Rich people don’t just benefit from rich-people classes. They benefit from having a class at all.”

“Right,” said Gully. “Anyway, you want to make sure people think you’re a normal [Handyman] so you can fly under the radar. People are less likely to pick a fight with some pissant, since they probably don’t have anything worth fighting over. In the event someone does decide to fight you, they’ll underestimate the shit out of you. Hidden master style, you know?”

“Okay,” said Castor, pulling up the skill and looking it over. “I’m fine with limiting information.”

He was pleased to see that Recon was another skill that would start at Level 100, probably because of the centuries he’d spent trundling through all the parts of the castle no one else went to. Like Gully had said earlier that day, he was likely the only person in Lord Bythrax’s domain who knew where everything was.

“After that, you need a combat skill,” said Gully. “Based on your style, I think you should pick up Brawling.” Castor stayed silent and waited for Gully to explain his reasoning. The demon seemed surprised not to get any pushback. “Brawling can apply to any weapon. You can use it with a spear, a sword, an axe, your fists, it doesn’t matter. You won’t be as good with any of them as someone dedicated to a specific weapon, but you’ll be able to pick something up like that wrench you used earlier and actually be able to deal some damage.”

“Sure,” said Castor. “I don’t plan on carrying around a greatsword or anything.”

“I figured. That’s a missed opportunity, by the way. You’re massive for a human, so the reach you’d get with a two-handed weapon would be insane.”

“What about staying low-key?” said Castor. “No weapon makes me even less of a threat.”

“True, true,” said the demon. “Most martial fighters pick up Brawling as a defensive skill. It helps keep you from getting grappled, tripped, disarmed, all of that stuff. However, it also makes you better at all those things. If you spec it offensively, you’d get enough of a boost to carry you until you decide you want something better.”

“Fine,” said Castor. He’d still have six slots to fill, and he didn’t mind having the capability to defend himself. “Any other wisdom?”

“Eh, we could sit here all day,” said Gully. “Everyone’s got their own idea of what’s the best way to focus your attributes or what passives to pick up–”

“You can get more passives?” asked Castor. Gully laughed.

“Shit, it’s easy to forget you don’t know shit. Okay, there’s an index you can access in the System.”

“Yeah, I saw that earlier.”

“Take some time to read it. It’ll tell you everything you need to know. As far as strategy goes, just try and have fun with it. Pick shit that makes you feel good. Plenty of people pick styles because they think they’re ‘better’, then realize too late they hate it. People like that stall in their skills, and as a result stagnate in their Levels.”

“That reminds me, can I level without killing anything?”

“For you? Absolutely. [Handyman] sounds like a crafting class, so you can probably get XP from crafting. Just do [Handyman] crap and you’ll get XP.”

“That’s good.”

“All right,” said Gully, rubbing his hands together. “Now what’s this ‘exclusive’ deal you’ve got in mind?”

Castor took another sip of his whiskey and let Gully simmer for a moment. He kept his face blank, doing his best not to give anything away.

“In exchange for the [Hero]’s corpse, Lord Bythrax traded me ‘everything I’ve ever picked up during my time working maintenance’.”

“Uh-huh, I was there,” said Gully.

Castor reached into his dimensional keyring and pulled out the key to Gully’s vault. The demon gave him an appraising look and sat back, crossing his arms.

“You wanna ransom my own vault key to me?” he asked. “Go ahead and try to steal something, see how that works out.”

“Nah,” said Castor. He tossed the key to Gully, who caught the small ring attached to it with the tip of a claw. “I don’t want to sell you your vault key.” Castor pulled out a handful more keys, their shapes and sizes endlessly varied. “I want to sell you everyone else’s vault keys.”