With mixed emotions, then you go for a hike

"Akserrak! What fresh torment are you planning? Wait... you are not the lich. Daemon? Has your new master rewarded his lapdog?" The bitter voice spits venom in your head.

"Huh, why would I be his lapdog?" The playful voice you imagine fills your thoughts, and a strong feeling of confusion greets you in return.

"If you aren't his lapdog, then how do you still possess his phylactery? You aren't the mage's equal." This fact is so obvious to her that it takes a moment for you to separate her absolute certainty from your own memories.

"Well, let's just say that Akserrak won't be joining us again. I've taken measures to dispose of him." **** skepticism fills her head, until you show a vision of light leaving the gem and the pile of manasilver bones which still rot in a cell somewhere.

Unfiltered joy assaults your senses. "Truly, daemon? Then thank you, for you have freed me!" A warm sense of peace fills you.

"You can call me Azazel, and no problem: it wasn't out of my way. However, I've called upon you for a reason." Although you try to keep your tone as friendly as possibly, **** suspicion suddenly fills your mind.

"What? Are you going to follow in his path, despite it leading nowhere but his ruin? Are you going to keep me as a battery for your own spells?" Despair slowly replaces the suspicion as she speaks.

"Relax, nothing like that. But first things first, what should I call you?" Hostility and stubbornness fill your mind.

"Why should I tell you, daemon? No doubt you'll just use it to devise some new torment." Fiery defiance accompanies the thought.

"What got into you this morning? I've already told you my name—not that you seem to want to use it—and was hoping to know who I was speaking to." The raging emotions inside your head soften somewhat, although caution still remains.

"Before I do anything of the sort, what are your plans for me? Why haven't you simply destroyed the gem and liberated me if you don't plan on using my power for your dark designs?" A bit of venom is there, but also a touch of curiosity.

"Well, to be honest, what you're asking isn't completely off the mark. My own mana reserves are largely supplied by a great tower which draws mana out of the air, but to upgrade it I need a mana crystal of significant power. One like the one you've been sealed within." Your thoughts try to project warm honesty. "I believe we spoke about this earlier?"

Triumph and bitterness fill your head. "Aha, I knew it! So be it, daemon: I can't stop you. However, with my spirit sealed in your dungeon you'll find I can do much to aid your enemies and work against you. I won't be enslaved again without a fight!"

You project the mental equivalent of a shrug. "Look, you don't need to be in the crystal and I'd really rather you weren't. I could simply destroy you like I did the lich, but that would be a waste." Confusion and hope fill your mind. "How about I give you a few days to think about it. Say, speaking of which, do you happen to know a certain Great Wyrm of Imporne?"

"What is Imporne? Some dungeon you want to rule?" Curiosity has replaced the earlier hostility, although there's a twinge of sarcasm.

"Imporne is the mountain we're on right now. What about Prometheia: do you recognize that name?"

Warm welcome at the mention of an old friend. "That old gal? What's she up to now?"

"Well, she's calling herself the Great Wyrm now, so I think you can imagine. She's sort of unofficially my boss in that she's the strongest monster around here. I've been summoned to meet her and I was hoping you'd come with me and give me some advice."

Confusion and doubt. "How would I come with you, daemon? You'd do well to remember that I'm rather, well, dead." You picture the necklace. "Oh, in the gem. Well, I can't really say no. Fine, I wouldn't mind being near her again."

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Genuine approval at a deal being agreed to. "Look, I'm sorry that you've been kept in the dark this past month: I'll try to give you the chance to live a little, if you'll pardon the expression." **** amusement at a bad pun.

A sensation of giggling at something silly comes back at you. "Very well... Azazel. If you concentrate on the necklace while you do something, I might be able to glean a few feelings, sounds, or images. I'm not quite sure how well it works—Akserrak wasn't very willing to experiment—but I'd welcome the chance to feel the breeze and see the sky again." Gentle hope mixed with surprise.

"Excellent. Well then, we'll be heading out tomorrow, although I'm not sure what time is like in there. I'll let you know when we're outside."

"See that you do." A strong desire to be left alone lingers after the voice finishes her thought. Not feeling the need to antagonize her, seeing as she may be able to help you in the conversations ahead, you let her have her space and open your eyes again. Without much else you need to do with the rest of your day, you simply laze about in the pool and spend some time sparring with Sera. The duel develops into another sort of competition, and the two of you collapse exhausted in bed after nightfall.

Wet sucking sounds and a warm, pleasurable sensation bring you back to consciousness the next morning. The angel still lies pressed against your chest, her blood-red hair spread around the blue gem on your chest. Her brown chest rises and falls gently as she breathes in her sleep. "Morning pet." A groan comes in response and she squirms, her nails scraping against your chest. "Morning Sera. Sorry, but it's about time for me to go." The dark beauty stands up, eyes half shut, and stretches her huge black wings. She yawns, pushing out her chest and giving you an excellent view of her bared form. You release inside your maid's eager mouth then flick your eyes up: Zalreanne nods and stands at attention after cleaning off any traces of your spunk. "Alright Rea, if you could get dressed, let's say goodbye to the others and head out." The maid's breasts and stomach are covered by frilly white cloth and her skirt extends to her knees. An attractive but decent uniform now covers her body, a perk of her new class. The ability doesn't see much use, but it's helpful when she needs to leave the dungeon.

Kakkchal is thrusting into the red-haired maid when you arrive in the guest quarters, the beauty eating out her friend in turn. He turns with a slight look of panic and pulls back his hips when you arrive, but you wave him away. "Don't mind me: there's a reason I left the two of them with you."

The dragonkin gives an appreciative nod and slams a few more times into the maid, letting out a long groan as he empties his balls. After a brief pause, he pulls out and begins to dress.

"So, I hate to break up the party here, but I assume you're ready to head out?"

"Yes. I appreciate your excellent hospitality, but it's best not to make my lady wait longer than I must. Were I not bringing you back she'd no doubt already be angry that I tarried so long." He finishes attaching his bracers—the last piece of his armour—as he speaks, then steps out of the room with his official staff in hand. "Is she coming with us?" He nods at the ivory-haired maid.

"You said I could bring an attendant?" He nods. "Then yes. She's one of my most trustworthy servants, not to mention skilled." You give a wink and he grins, then you hold out a hand to the door. "Alright, shall we?"

A gentle breeze brushes against your face when you step outside, the sun just peeking over the horizon while the yellow profile of Arkus's smaller moon just barely peeks over the opposite side of the world before retreating for the day. "Hey, voice, you there?" A strong feeling of being annoyed by an unexpected interruption. "You're the one who asked me to call you." You ignore her protests and focus on the cool breeze and the warm sun.

"Thank you, daemon, although you could call me something other than 'hey, voice.'" Feelings of nostalgia and happiness press against you.

"I'd be happy to, but you haven't given me your name." A contemplative feeling washes over you, then nothing. "Fine, suit yourself."

"Hello, lord? Azazel?" You open your eyes to see the dragonkin looking at you, a confused expression on his face. "Can we continue? You stopped and spaced out there for a minute."

"Right, sorry." You start walking again—you never even noticed you stopped—and the maid beside you resumes her steps as well. The clack-click-clack serves as relaxing background noise as you begin the long walk to Imporne's summit. "So, how far is it to our destination anyways? I've never been far up the mountain."

"The entrance to my mistress' lair lies at the tip of Imporne, a hole clawed into the summit of the great mountain itself by her magnificent form." The attendant speaks with an authoritative tone, pronouncing each word with the utmost reverence. "Her lair lies deep within the earth, although the path from the surface is easy. It will take us a day and a half to reach the peak."

"So we have to camp out on the slopes of the mountain? Between that and the adventurers we'll likely run into today, not having my champions here is rather inconvenient." The scenery passes slowly as you speak, only the breeze and the clicking of your maid's heels breaking the morning calm.

"Afraid of a few monsters? That's unbecoming of you, lord. But no, the monsters worth fearing on these slopes recognize my lady's symbol, and will not bother us." He leans on his staff as he speaks, the symbol of office doubling as a tall walking stick.

"And the adventurers?" You raise a skeptical eyebrow.

"Please, I have no intention of letting myself be defeated by that rabble. It has been over a year since I last fell in battle, and I intend to keep increasing my level without any of the advantages bosses and champions enjoy." He radiates pride as he speaks. "It has been ten levels since I was last defeated, and I have no plans to end that streak today."

He hasn't been killed by adventurers in over a year? No doubt being in the service of the strongest monster on the mountain helps with that, but you have to admit you're still impressed by his boast. "Fine then, if you're as good as you say you are then maybe we can make that eleven levels before we reach the top."

A scaly hand claps you on the back. "Now I like your tune, Azazel. Say, care for a slight detour? I think I see a pair down there." His claw points down a side path. Sure enough, a man and a woman are walking some distance away. The broad-chested man has a bow strapped across his back, while the toned woman wears plate and carries a sword and shield. You nod and the two of you creep down the path; Zalreanne waits in a nearby copse of trees for your return.

A few minutes later you're within striking distance of the adventurers. The two are too busy watching harpies circle in the sky ahead to sense your approach. Kakkchal carefully sets down his staff and unbuckles his shield, while you produce a small ball of flame in your hand. "Say, you aren't about to give me a lecture about honour if I start this with a bang, are you?" Sharp teeth glint in your mouth as you grin and whisper.

"I didn't get this far by challenging adventurers to chivalrous trials of virtue." The dragonkin whispers back, eyes drawn to the golden flame. "Let's do this." A huge pillar of fire falls upon the archer, eliciting a shout of alarm from his fighter companion; she spins around and looks for their assailants. Kakkchal doesn't keep her waiting: he steps out with a confident swagger, sword in one hand and his huge round shield in the other. "Adventurers! You trespass on my lady's domain!" The warrior merely responds with a yell and a charge. Metal clashes on metal as the battle is joined.

The two adventurers aren't a match for you, and it doesn't take long until you've returned to Zalreanne to resume your journey. The plants thin and the air chills as you ascend. By the time night falls you're walking through the clouds: a curious sensation indeed. When it becomes too dark to continue, you kindle a small fire in a shallow cave beside the path. Kakkchal uses several stones to mount his staff in the middle of the entrance, the draconic tip facing out to any intruders.

"Say, that last adventurer with the bikini top got me a bit worked up. Care to blow off some steam?"

"Sorry, daemon, but I'm not interested in men." The greater kobold gives a grin as he tries to turn you down.

You laugh. "Oh, neither am I, but luckily it isn't just the two of us." You wrap your hand around your lavender companion's waist, and she gives a cute whimper in response.

"Oh? I thought she was yours. Besides, didn't you say you were worked up as well?"

"All of my attendants are ready to serve any distinguished guests, underlings, or others as I see fit." The maid's clothes retract to their indoor form and you roll her nipples between your fingers. "Last I checked she has more than one hole."

Not needing any more invitation, the dragonkin begins to strip, and you give the maid a little push on the back. She gets down on her hands and knees and you groan as you sink into her, her moans cut off shortly afterwards when her mouth is occupied by the emissary's other staff. "Say," the diplomat speaks as he thrusts into the willing hole in front of him, "did you always have that necklace? I don't remember seeing it yesterday."

"Oh, this?" You enjoy the sensation of pounding your ex-rival as you hold a casual conversation above, the once-threatening sorceress now a moaning mess around the shafts presented to her. The crystal glimmers between your clawed fingers as you stare at it. "It's a protective item I picked up of sorts, figured it might come in useful on the trip."

Annoyance at being interrupted, offence at the scene, and more than a bit of arousal flood your mind. "Daemon! What is the meaning of this?"

"Oh, uh, sorry, if you'll believe me this was a total accident. Kakkchal over there asked me about your stone while we were enjoying ourselves." You try your best to convey a genuine, apologetic tone.

"Then see that it does not happen again." Her voice sounds slightly husky as it retreats from your consciousness, and not quite as imperious as the words imply.

The rest of the night passes uneventfully: each of you treat the head maid to a few load, then the messenger dresses and lies down on the far side of the cave. You opt to fall asleep still lodged inside the tall beauty you've impaled. The rest of the hike is quiet despite the high-level monsters that must lurk in the caves you pass. It's only a few short hours before the top of Imporne lies ahead, a gaping hole cut in its summit.