Dorma

In another time.

In another place.

Despite the lingering scent of pulp and piss pervading that chamber, a long-gone feeling of comfort welled up in the hearts of those two. Indeed, if only for a moment, it was as if they had been returned to the days of their youth. The woman who had stubbornly kept her back turned faced him in an instant, and upon her face was an expression of pure warmth.

"Barion?" The coldness in her voice had melted, "Is it truly you?"

"I thought I would come to visit." He replied with a smirk, "Not the most touching place for a reunion, though."

Dorma had scarcely changed since Barion last saw her. She was a woman of unparalleled beauty, such that he had witnessed men and women both throwing themselves at her feet in the past. With a figure that seemed blessed by the Gods themselves and a motherly face which exuded serenity, even he had found himself bewitched on a few occasions. Of course, the impact of her appearance was dampened somewhat by their locale.

"Only you are allowed the pleasure of ogling me so freely, Barion." She teased, "So, stare as much as you like. I don't mind."

"Let's save the banter for when we're somewhere more appropriate." He waved a hand.

"...Hm?" Her pleased look faltered somewhat, "Have you been casting dark magic, Barion? I can detect the faint traces of a taint upon your soul."

"It was only a single spell. My first one in years. I'll be fine."

"Hah… I see time hasn't dulled your poor sense of judgement one bit."

Barion was trained in a handful of magical arts--some very powerful indeed, but all that he knew, he had been taught by Dorma. Her affinity for magical energy was abnormal, especially for a human, and the speed at which she learned new spells had never been replicated even by the more magically-attuned races. But even she was wary of relying on dark magic.

"Well, be thankful that I'm here." She smiled gently, and lifted her oaken staff towards him. As she whispered an incantation under her breath, a blinding cylinder of light enveloped him, and somehow, he immediately felt healthier.

"I suppose you've heard of this burrow's 5-star status?" She continued, "Not that it would surprise me if you didn't. You always were the type to charge into danger without thinking."

"I knew that there was no better place to start looking for you." Barion answered, "It seems like you've been having a lot of fun."

"Goblins don't even charge at me with the intent to kill. They throw down their weapons and try to grab or restrain me." She grimaced, "It wouldn't make a difference either way."

Turning her head towards the severed corpse of the orc, Dorma closed her eyes in thought, "It worries me that I haven't happened upon any captured women yet. The goblins must be reproducing somehow. Perhaps further down."

"It's certainly bigger than any of the burrows we've tackled before." Barion noticed, "I heard that the guild's having trouble forming a raid to take it down."

"-And so it attracts solo adventurers. Fools." She clicked her tongue, "I would love nothing more than to turn it into a burning crater, but we can't make such hasty decisions when people might still be alive down here."

"Agreed." He concurred plainly, "Well then, shall we see what lies at the very bottom?"

"It would be a good chance to relive our glory days." Dorma put a hand to her mouth and giggled, "It's a shame Shilahi isn't here to join us."

Barion crossed his arms, "If I have to be honest, I've got no clue where she ended up."

"Nor do I, which is quite the feat, considering my divination magic."

"Can't win them all." He summed up, "Shall we get going?"

Her smile was a sweet one, "Let's."

Normally, a mage would be restricted in how many spells they could cast in a short period of time. However, thanks in part to the adamantite crystal that was housed at the top of her staff, Dorma was allowed a near-limitless amount of casts. Of course, it was a terribly expensive thing to create. An ordinary adventurer would be too afraid of having an adamantite staff stolen to carry one around as brazenly as Dorma did.

However, she was limited in terms of her durability. While Dorma's magic was capable of defending her, she wasn't particularly well-trained in the wielding of traditional weaponry, and so would be in terrible peril if her magic was compromised somehow, such as by a beholder's gaze or a magic-suppressing item. This was the case for all mages, not just Dorma. Devoting themselves to the complicated field of magic left them little time for other pursuits.

But there was no danger of that happening. Not among goblins. Barion was able to follow close behind her from chamber to chamber, sometimes only barely catching a glimpse of the inhabitants within before they were slaughtered in storms of gore. No matter how deep they went, there was no sign of any prisoners.

"Just how far does it go?" Barion's face was almost invisible in the low light, "Never mind a raid--this would take an entire army to eradicate fully."

"It begs the question--just how did it grow so rapidly?" Dorma wondered, and then raised her head, "Wait. Do you hear that?"

Barion fell silent. From the tunnel ahead of them , there was a sound that was almost too chaotic to describe. It was as if 100 voices were joined in a chorus of screams, mixing with frenzied gibbering. Dorma gestured at him to follow along, and the two of them moved slowly towards the source of the sound.

They emerged onto what could only be called a bridge--one which was barely wide enough to accommodate 2 people walking side-by-side. Leading towards another tunnel, it ran over a chamber that was much larger than the rest, such that anyone who fell from the bridge would almost certainly die. The source of the sound, which was almost deafening now, originated from the floor of that chamber.

If Barion had been forced to use a term to describe it, that term would have been 'puzzle'. A puzzle of undulating flesh and movement which contorted in such a way that confounded the eyes. It took a moment for him to fully understand what he was looking at.

There, on the floor of that chamber, there were goblins numbering in the thousands, each of them gathering around a countless number of naked, almost catatonic women. The noises of their laboured breathing combined with the pleads and yells of innumerable voices, and the wet sounds of sex that bounced from the walls of the cavern, was enough to deafen the unprepared.

But most eye-catching of all was the thing in the chamber's centre. It appeared like a flower which had bloomed from the ground, and looked to be made of muscles which freely contracted and loosened. Entangled in its centre were various women--tentacular appendages entangling them by the limbs and invading every one of their orifices. From the 'flower's' petals emerged plumes of pink smoke that formed an eerie mist around it.

"Impossible…" Dorma whispered, "A Demon?"

"Wha-" Barion had to stop his voice from raising involuntarily, "How is that-"

"It isn't." She interrupted, "I thought the Demons had been eradicated. Were a few left after all?"

"What sort of Demon is it?"

"It's…" She put a hand to her chin and thought, "...an Amorphophallus, if I recall."

She pointed a finger towards it and continued, "It's capable of stealing magical energy via its tentacles. The pink mist it exudes causes women who breathe it to enter a sort of hypnotised state, and slowly metamorphoses the body into a vessel used to carry the Demon's eggs."

"Are the goblins protecting it?"

"It's possible the mist has had a long-term effect on them since it has nowhere to escape in this burrow." She theorised, "Goblins are weak to magic, but excel at overwhelming skilled fighters with numbers. The Amorphophallus compensates for that weakness, and its propensity for capturing women instead of killing them aligns with the interests of the burrow as well. A clever alliance."

"If it's a Demon, then it has to die." Barion said resolutely, "The city will have a much bigger problem on its hands if the flower is allowed to reproduce."

"If we attack without a plan, it's possible that the women might be hurt." Dorma replied, "Barion, it's our responsibility to make sure each and every one of them leaves this place alive."

"No need to worry about hurting them." Strangely, Barion sounded a little bothered by something, "...There is only one way to kill a Demon, after all."

Dorma blinked, before a teasing smile made its way onto her face, "That's very true. Does this mean you're about to use it?"

"What other choice do I have? It'll get rid of the goblins and the Demon together, so it's not only the safest option, but also the quickest." He sighed, "What a pain."

Seeming somewhat agitated, he stepped over the edge of the bridge and allowed himself to fall towards an unoccupied patch on the ground. Not all of the sounds stopped as he did so--rather, it was like his landing had sent out a silencing shockwave which slowly but surely eradicated the deafening chorus around him. The Amorphophallus, too, ceased its movements.

Acting quickly, the goblins were upon him in a great tide of green flesh--almost completely enveloping his location whilst wildly swinging their arms and weapons. Even though his tunic was a powerful magic item, it wasn't designed to withstand an attack of that magnitude. Despite that, its magical charge was barely depleted at all. Or, it would be more accurate to say that whenever the charge started to deplete, it rapidly filled back up again.

"Dorma…" If he could have seen the girl from there, the two of them might have shared a knowing glance, "I'm glad it's you here, and not Din."

Demons were the antithesis of life. Indeed, their very existences contradicted the natural laws of the universe. No matter the weapon, mundane or magical, their bodies could never be harmed. It was that invincibility which granted them an unstoppable advantage during the reign of the Demon King. But if that was the case, then how was the war won 500 years ago? There was only a single answer known to be true.

Because, after 50 years of despair, a 'Hero' emerged from the darkness.