Out of Light, Into the Dark

[Proto Man]

The skirmish dragged on for another ten minutes before the village of Durnhill fell silent once more.

After the fighting, there wasn’t much left standing except for a handful of huts and the various forges. Everything else had been blasted, smashed, or knocked over during the chaotic scuffle. The three members of the group had survived, but they were all wearing nasty bruises and cuts. Only Snake Man walked without a slight limp as they made their way toward the village’s central forge. Of all the large buildings, it was the only one that was still belching smoke—the rest had ceased to do so after their attendants ran off to confront the invaders.

As they passed the smaller blacksmithing areas, Proto Man was able to easily confirm his idea that the darkspawn were outfitting an army. Each little forge had a small cache of weapons and armor, all freshly smelted and forged. At a few, it was clear that the smith had rushed to outfit himself and knocked over the perfectly stacked piles in the process.

“They’re using this place to outfit an army,” Mireya muttered, leaning on her weapon as they made their way toward the main forge. Neither of the machines did more than grunt, because both had come to the same realization earlier. “We need to make sure we destroy all of these on our way out.”

“We need to deal with that first,” Proto Man replied as he pointed to the structure built around the main forge. While the rest of the village had been wooden huts and small homes, the main forge building was made from brick and larger than all abodes in Durnhill combined. Unlike the rotting and aged wood that marked its smaller neighbors, the forge seemed pristine, almost as if someone had gone through the effort of scrubbing and washing it. As they drew closer, they noticed that the doors were wide open.

“This feels stupid…” Snake Man whispered. “We’re going to go in there and get mauled, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are,” Mireya replied as Proto Man readied his weapon. If they were going to be attacked, he was going to make sure he fired the first—and biggest—shot.

With grim thoughts in their head, the battle-weathered trio crossed the threshold and entered Durnhill’s central forge. Almost immediately, their eyes were drawn to the giant furnace that dominated the far wall. The grated hatch was flung open and the fires inside raged brighter and hotter than anything the three had experienced. To the left of the furnace, an eight-foot tall humanoid stood and watched them with a scowl on his face. Although vaguely human, the blacksmith’s flesh was a dull shade of crimson, and parts of his exposed skin were hardened and had the appearance of scales. In his right hand, he held a large hammer, and in his right, he gripped an equally oversized pair of tongs used for handling raw materials in the forge.

“I take it you’re the blacksmith?” Proto Man replied as he glanced around to see that the rest of the forge was empty of living organisms. The android turned his gaze back to the smith as his scanners worked over the creature. “You don’t appear to be a darkspawn.”

“A darkspawn?” The demon boomed, his voice filling the forge. “Do not belittle me by associating me with that filth.”

“Then identify yourself,” Mireya rasped as she stepped forward, the tip of her weapon swinging down so it was in line with the creature’s chest.

“I am Azreal, one of the many demons who forged the weapons of Diablo’s armies. When the Black Gate was sundered, I found myself stranded on this side and cut off from my master. I languished for years before some lowly prime sought me out for my services.”

“The Archdemon?”

“That’s what they call her?” Azreal laughed. “Just because you’re a prime doesn’t make you an ‘arch’ anything. She can create all the little blight monsters she wants and spread her little disease to the far reaches of the Omniverse, but Scylla will be nothing more than a lowly plague vector cowering in the shadows of the Black Gate.”

The archdemon is at the Black Gate… Proto Man glanced down at the banishment runes still engraved around the barrel of the Proto Buster. He held back a smile but couldn’t help feel a little better knowing that they were one step closer to ending all of this.

“We’ll send her your condolences,” the red robot replied, prompting a grin to spread across the demon’s visage.

“You’ll be sending nothing. I’m not going to overlook the fact that you cost me a few dozen good slaves.” Azreal took a sudden step forward and threw his tongs straight at the preteen machine. Rather than try and dodge, Proto Man simply swung up his gun and fired the blast he had been gradually charged since before they entered the building. There was a brilliant flash of blue as the beam screamed out of the barrel, consuming the impromptu projectile and carrying on across the forge, ripping up the stone floor in the process.

With a scowl, Azreal dove to the wayside as the beam slammed into the wall next to the forge and easily cleaved through the masonry. As the lights faded away, the demon blacksmith rushed forward and swung his hammer, catching Proto Man square in the right shoulder. Before he was thrown off his feet and through the far wall, the machine felt his shoulder joint crumple like an aluminum soda can. A groan escaped the machine’s now bruised lips as he struggled to right himself from underneath a pile of freshly deconstructed bricks.

Seeing Proto Man battered aside, Mireya dashed forward. The half-night elf spun on the balls of her feet and drove the blade at the end of her polearm up into the demon’s left armpit. Azreal clenched his teeth and swung his hammer, missing the nimble woman but obliterating her weapon.

The opening was all that Snake Man needed to pounce. Dashing forward, the serpentine machine lunged and landed on the demon’s chest. One clawed hand found the creature’s huge neck as the other started to release a continuous burst of energy into Azreal’s face. The demon wavered before falling backwards, but Snake Man didn’t relent until his foe lie still underneath him.

“We’re getting good at this,” Snake Man said to Mireya as he glanced over his shoulder at the night elf.

Unfortunately for Snake Man, he didn’t glance through the slowly clearing fog at the blackened visage of the demon—the blackened, smiling visage. “Not good enough, serpent.” Before the reptilian Robot Master could react, one of Azreal’s massive hands shot up and closed around the back of his neck. The thick fingers crushed down around Snake Man’s neck, and although the material resisted for all it was worth, the raw strength of the blacksmith was more than enough to do the trick. With a snicker, Azreal yanked his hand up, tearing much of the robot’s spine from his body.