The Scumbags Guide to Enslaving Demon's

The ceiling came down in chunks of concrete and jagged wire.

Austin Veyron threw one arm over Malrec and the other across the collector fragment. Root-Grifth exploded from beneath his skin then coalesced into an unstable shield. The impact slammed him into one knee. Dust filled his lungs. The fragment squirmed in his grasp, green-black energy clawing through his fingers.

[Hostile fragment attempting bond.]

[Sovereign link available.]

Austin Veyron slammed the message shut.

"Seven!" he shouted.

Light slashed through the dust. Seven pressed himself behind a collapsed support beam, massive chunk of ceiling resting on his shoulders. His battered body shook, but stayed still.

"Evacuation corridor unstable," Seven said. "Recommended priority: core fragment extraction."

"Not first."

"Strategic disagreement noted."

Austin Veyron scrambled forward, towards the pinned root mass. The Freehold roots beneath the west wing had erupted from the ground and blackened where the collector’ ash burned through them. He could hear Kaela’s team yelling for help beyond the destroyed wall.

Malrec coughed up blood. "The pipe tunnel," he wheezed. "Escapes outside of the wing. But it won’t hold everyone."

Austin Veyron looked at him.

"There are four in the ballroom route," Malrec continued. "Take the pipe tunnel with the fragment and leave them. The collapse will reach the corridor before they can get back to you."

The fragment twitched, agreeing.

Austin Veyron imagined doing it cleanly for half a heartbeat. He could take the core and Seven and bring the fragment back through the pipe route. He could save more power. He could save the Freehold’s future.

It was objectively the smart thing to do.

Morally speaking, it sounded like Malrec.

"No." Austin Veyron said.

Malrec grinned unevenly. "Then you have no convictions."

Austin pried rebar from the rubble and shoved it through the portal doors. "Maybe."

The fragment gouged into his palm.

Searing pain bloomed across his forearm. Black sigils crawled across his skin, binding his wrist against his will. The collector’ voice filled his head, cool and unrushed.

Feed me a name. Let me choose someone. I will hold the ceiling.

Austin nearly dropped the fragment again.

No one ever offered the sovereign that sort of deal without asking for something in return. Give it one name and four lives were saved. One sacrifice voluntarily, and the wing would be stable enough to reinforce.

Static crackled across his radio.

"We got your message, Austin Veyron." Elena’s voice grated through the interference. "We’re at the lobby breach. Can you hear us?"

"West wing collapse. Four trapped beyond ballroom. Got Malrec, Seven, fragment."

Pause.

"Tell us what you need," Elena repeated. "Austin."

Not what do you demand.

What do you need.

Austin stared down at the fragment clutched in his hands.

"No names," he said.

The sigil constricting his wrist tightened another notch.

He ripped DEVOUR open—not at the fragment itself because that would have ingested the sovereign link along with it, but at the agony currently threatening to crush him. He ingested the contract ash enveloping the wound and felt as if he was swallowing shards of glass. Blood dripped from his nose. The fragment screamed.

Austin recognized the voice as Vharra’s.

You cannot save all of them.

"Try me."

He slammed the fragment down on the ground and pushed roots outwards around it, building a cage from branches that would barely slow it down long enough to react. It wouldn’t be able to get out while it remained trapped in the rootsnet, but it also wouldn’t be able to attack. Least of all Austin Veyron.

"Seven, can you hold that support another ten seconds?"

"No."

"Seven. Can you hold that support for seven seconds."

Seven’s iris illuminated brighter. "Yes."

Austin punched through the wall with root-webbed hands.

Kaela was on the other side of the rubble, half buried beneath a fallen support beam. Two volunteers leaned their shoulders against the ballroom door so it would stay closed, and Sarielle knelt in shattered plaster, hacking away at black roots entrapping another volunteer’s ankles.

"Austin!" Kaela yelled. "We need to move!"

"I know." He dug roots under the beam and wrapped them around it. Pulled upward with all his strength. His arms were shaking with effort. This part of the hotel was oldest and each new tendril he tore from the earth felt like shredding ligaments from his bones.

One of the volunteers lost their footing. The ballroom door popped open an inch. Contract ash rushed into the opening.

Rin materialized beside them and kicked the door shut. "You four are the absolute worst at holding doors," she hissed.

"Thanks," Kaela sighed.

"I’m helping."

Austin applied more force.

Enough for Kaela to squirm out from under the beam. Enough for Sarielle to drag the injured volunteer out after her. Enough for the other two stragglers to back away one at a time until Rin detached last, deliberately placing herself between the ash-swarm and the escape route.

Behind them, Seven’ hastily constructed support gave out.

"Seven!"

The mech launched himself through the ruptured wall mere moments before the ceiling crashed down atop where he’d been standing. Austin caught him midair; both of them barrelled into the service hallway.

The fragment cage bounced behind them, roots tearing themselves from the earth as Austin dragged it in tow.

They burst through the lobby doors seconds before the entire west wing caved in on itself.

The impact resounded throughout the hotel.

Ash-clouds erupted from the entranceway. The Freehold roots recoiled, then slowly began weaving into the broken doorway. Attempting to repair it. Mapping where it hurt.

They took a headcount.

No one was missing.

Malrec pressed back against the wall, mumbling complaints at the damage. "You saved them," he said at last.

Austin stared at his bloody hand. The black chain tattoo had burrowed beneath his skin.

"I saved them this time." He put his other hand on Malrec’ shoulder.

The fragment in its root-prison scraped once against the wooden cage around it. Polite. Enough for everyone in the lobby to glance at it.

No one said anything. No one volunteered themselves.

Austin stared at the sigil branded into his arm twitching with the captive fragment’ power. He finally understood. The sovereign didn’t need to kick down the door to get what it wanted. All it took was for someone, someday, to decide opening it was the easier option.

It now had leverage to kick harder.

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