The Scumbags Guide to Enslaving Demon's

As the Cinder Host began closing its armor around them, iron ribs shifted across the entry passage, the walls moving inward with a slow grinding sound that narrowed the route to Varos’s chamber, while outside the side grate the West Rift bridge burned black under the tribute mark. Six water workers stood on the east side with their mud wall, their pressure gauge, and their three remaining barrels, their faces streaked with soot and their hands shaking only a little as they watched the fire creep along the ropes toward them.

”Four minutes,” the crew leader reported through the relay. ”The fire is eating the bridge ropes, and the flood channel is still running.”

Joren’s voice answered from the west rise. ”A second crossing team is bringing chain hooks through the dry riverbed, but they need the tribute mark weakened before they can reach you.”

Varos held the damaged standard with both hands. ”You hear them counting. They count because they’re afraid, and fear is tribute before it becomes chains.”

Kethra stepped forward, her black iron horns catching the furnace light. ”No. Fear is information. You taught people to hide it because hidden fear was easier to own.”

Varos swung the standard, and black fire ripped through the chamber, so that Veyra caught the strike on her blade as sparks burned across the grates and Sable moved toward the side wall, her crown shard cutting the black chains that crawled from the standard into the bridge mark.

Nyra held the heart shard against the grate, and blue-black lines outlined the tribute link. ”The mark has three anchors, the standard core, the bridge chain, and the trapped crew’s fear response. If Austin Veyron devours the standard claim before we weaken the bridge anchor, the fire could snap back through the workers’ route.”

Austin Veyron looked at Varos and then at the water crew’s relay light, wanting to end it now with one DEVOUR action against the entire standard, one burst of power that might drop the Tithe commander before the Host closed around them.

Veyra saw the decision form in him. ”Name it.”

”I want to destroy the standard now.”

”And what would it make?”

”A rescue that risks the people it claims to save.”

Sable pointed her white shard toward the side grate. ”Then we break the bridge claim first.”

The fire on the bridge brightened.

THE MARKED BRIDGE BELONGS TO THE TITHE.

Austin Veyron saw the smaller truth beneath it, because the Tithe didn’t need the whole bridge, it only needed the trapped crew to believe their escape route had become enemy property.

”Target,” Austin Veyron said. ”The marked-bridge ownership claim. Not the bridge, the crew, or the flood channel.”

”Witnessed,” Veyra said.

”Witnessed,” Sable answered.

Austin Veyron pressed the white root chain against the black chain running through the grate.

DEVOUR opened, and the claim tasted like a crossing sold after people had already stepped onto it.

THE MARKED BRIDGE BELONGS TO THE TITHE.

He consumed belongs.

The bridge mark cracked, and outside the black fire didn’t vanish, but it stopped spreading along the ropes, and the trapped crew leader saw the change at once.

”Mark fading,” she reported. ”We still have heat on the east rail. Starting withdrawal by pairs.”

Joren’s second crossing team appeared in the dry riverbed below, throwing chain hooks toward the bridge supports, and the water crew didn’t rush blindly, with two workers crossing first carrying the pressure gauge and two more following with the water barrels, while the last pair stayed long enough to hold the flood channel open until the Host’s front treads slipped again in the mud.

Varos roared as the damaged standard flared and its bridge anchor failed, and he drove it into the chamber floor, trying to pull the black fire inward toward the furnace heart. ”Then the fortress will take their heat instead.”

The chamber floor split, and red furnace channels opened beneath the standard as the Cinder Host began drawing heat from the bridge route, trying to turn the rescue effort into fuel for its heart. Kethra charged Varos, and her blade struck the standard pole, tearing the cracked black cloth away and exposing the small hunger core inside, but Varos hit her with the iron shaft and sent her flying across the grate.

Orven caught Kethra before she fell into the furnace channel, and at that moment Rin and Tamsin came through the armor crack behind them, the ladders outside finally down and their outside posts handed to the defenders, and Rin went straight for the exposed core, driving her claws into it hard enough to sink it deeper into the pole, though not hard enough to break it.

”Miss me?” she called to Austin Veyron over her shoulder, and despite the fire and the closing walls, he felt himself grin back at her.

Veyra engaged Varos directly, their blades meeting in bursts of red and white light, and while the banner commander was stronger, without the bridge claim his strikes no longer carried the weight of an entire trapped crew’s fear. Austin Veyron saw a new phrase rising inside the standard core.

THE FURNACE OWNS THE RESCUED.

The Host was trying to take credit for survival itself, letting the crew live only if their escape became fuel for the next tribute demand.

”Target,” Austin Veyron said. ”The furnace-owns-rescued claim. Not the crew, the heat, or the Host’s raw channels.”

”Witnessed,” Veyra said.

”Witnessed,” Sable replied.

Austin Veyron reached for the exposed core.

DEVOUR opened, and the claim tasted like a gatekeeper demanding thanks for not killing someone.

THE FURNACE OWNS THE RESCUED.

He consumed owns.

The standard core screamed, and black fire tore out of the pole as the tribute marks across the bridge vanished, while outside the final water pair crossed the second chain line just as the old bridge rope burned through behind them.

”Crew clear,” Joren called. ”Flood channel closing, and the east side is empty.”

The rescue held, and Varos stared at the broken standard in his hands, its core cracked and its command link reduced to a faint black pulse. ”You break the Tithe piece by piece,” he snarled. ”But the Burned Crown has a thousand pieces.”

He slammed the pole into the furnace channel, and a blast of red heat threw everyone back, and when Austin Veyron regained his footing, Varos was running down a narrow corridor deeper inside the Host with the cracked core clutched against him, while the Host’s armor sealed behind him.

Veyra was the first to reach Austin Veyron, pulling him up by the arm, and she didn’t let go right away, her thumb pressing once against the inside of his wrist as though checking his pulse. ”You’re still here,” she said quietly, half to him and half to herself.

Nyra pointed toward the corridor. ”That leads to the furnace heart. The standard isn’t controlling the bridge anymore, but it’s feeding the heart directly now.”

The heat gauges outside began screaming through the relay.

”Rift temperature rising,” a Cindervale worker reported. ”The Host is pulling heat from the bridge route, and if it keeps going, the valley walls will fracture.”

Tessa’s voice joined from the outside board. ”You have seven minutes before the main pass collapses.”

The entry team stood at the mouth of the furnace-heart corridor, with the water crew safe behind them and Varos ahead, carrying the last tribute core toward the living fortress’s heart, and the rescue had become a countdown.

Joren’s relay remained open through the armor crack. ”The outside crews can hold the Host’s treads in the mud for seven minutes. After that, the east basin dries under the furnace pull and the chains lose their purchase.”

Seregate’s engineer added, ”We can release another water channel, but it’ll consume the last reserve barrel, and then the valley has no cooling margin if the heart erupts.”

Austin Veyron wanted to decide immediately, because there were seven minutes, one corridor, and a demon commander ahead, and the simple answer was to tell the engineers to release everything and force the heart fight before the Host could adapt.

Veyra watched him. ”What do you want?”

”To spend every reserve on the entry.”

”And what would it make?”

”The person who decides the future outside is worth less than the fight I can see.”

Sable touched the crown shard to the corridor map. ”Then ask the crews what they choose.”

The water engineers heard the full count, and after a short exchange they chose a half release, enough to keep the treads slow for five minutes while leaving one emergency barrel for the clinic wagons if the valley walls cracked, and the metal crews chose to shift their chains from the bridge supports to the Host’s north tread, while Joren recorded each choice on the west board.

Austin Veyron didn’t own the time they had bought, and he only had to use it without pretending it was his, so the entry team ran toward the furnace heart, their boots ringing on the hot iron grates while the corridor walls breathed red light around them. The air grew heavier with every step, thick with ash and the copper smell of scorched metal, and somewhere ahead the great heart beat louder and louder, like a great drum calling them deeper into the heart of the burning mountain.