Rather than Mazi, Vruria, or even Brybs, the Owl returned to the Mortal Plane and looked about to see a rolling plain of herbs and flowers peering above a blanket of snow. In the far, far distance was the beacon of steel and glass that served as the pride and joy of Chaulort. But alas, the Owl was just beyond the Chaulort border. Perched in the Kasian Empire to pick up an old friend before the Owl took flight.
Within a few minutes, the rendezvous was complete and the Owl was perched atop that domed ceiling, looking down into an office of red-stained wood and plush carpet surrounded by books and busts and boisterous paintings of great witches from across the ages.
Sitting wearily behind a desk was the man the Owl came here to see. Meanwhile, the package that was retrieved from the next country over was at the main entrance, handing over a letter recently forged using Devil's Intrigue, if only to test the limits of the perk.
It took not long for Borrowed Time to be escorted through the building and arrive in front of the door of that grimy man. With a groan, he was up. And then his face contorted in a wide smile once he saw the man who shouldn’t have been living smiling sheepishly at him. Of course, Archie brought him inside to inquire what he’d been through since leaving.
“Torture,” said Borrowed Time. And he continued to say that it’d been horrible. That he kept dying and waking up alive and well every week. Sometimes he’d die early and remain dead until the week's end. Others, he’d be tortured for the whole week and wake up the next day to be tortured by orcs and goblins again and again.
It was then that Archie asked him about his affairs. The ones he pleaded to Amun about. The ones that needed completing before he died. However, Archie soon became astonished when Borrowed Time, traumatized and mentally broken beyond belief, had no clue what he was talking about. Nor did Borrowed Time care. He simply continued explaining that he was saved by a fighter who became intrigued by his plight. This fighter then brought Borrowed Time to their associate, a prodigal old man from Bakewia with immense wealth and grandiose ideas that, if they were realized, could revolutionize the world of witchcraft. But, he had no practical experience in the craft. Instead, his prowess sat in artificing.
That confused Archie, which, in turn, birthed a seed of curiosity that grew as Borrowed Time handed off the second letter, composed and sealed by this supposed benefactor who heard of Archie’s prowess in Witchcraft and the limits imposed upon him by his employer.
In short, it was an offering. A deal that required Archie to quit immediately, gathering any of his staff to accompany him if possible. This benefactor would then drown him in wealth, going as far as building a facility for him in a place that would permit as many patients of as many species as possible. He was to heal those patients, of course. But secretly, he was to study the theories and designs sent to him from this benefactor and work on bringing them into creation. And under no condition was he to share this knowledge with anyone but three entities: Borrowed Time; what Borrowed Time described as his benefactor's summoned creature; and, in the unlikely event of him visiting, the Benefactor himself.
“Summon?” Archie asked and was grasped tighter by morbid curiosity once he learned that an exotic being often assisted this Benefactor. And it was then that Archie showed the greed found in all mortals. “I want to be known across the lands- and longevity on top of that! Can your Benefactor’s summon give me that?”
Borrowed Time, under the influence of divine and wicked magic that his broken will couldn’t hope to fight back against, nodded confidently. “Signing the paper will summon it here temporarily. Tell it your demands then. His words were, ‘There is no budget.’ Nothing is off the table.”
Of course, such confidence was spewed vicariously, simply because it was the truth. Archie would have what he desired. Just not in the way he suspected.
He would have fame through infamy.
He would have longevity, as a devil.
But that wasn’t even a possibility for a greedy healthcare professional with a crooked moral compass. He made plans to put in his resignation immediately, only signing the contract once he was midway through the act. Cueing the time for theatrics.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Using a petty illusion, the Owl sent a cascade of feathers from the ceiling. Down they fell, with a slight deflection that pulled them to the edge of his desk to amass in the form of the Owl, staring its star-filled eyes into the awed orbs of Archie. He reiterated his demands to me. And in Deep Abyssal, I gave him boons and curses alike to aid him in his task. Boons such as strength and knowledge. Curses such as the inability to eat or sleep coupled with an obsession with his work. Blessings such as an unaging and biologically immortal body. Banes such as a lack of morals and emotions. Benefits like every battlefield in the region knowing of his clinic and seeking it out above others. Hexes to be unable to show or tell anyone how they were treated. Only that they were.
It was a gamble, assuming he wouldn’t understand the words as they formed into a visible eldritch text of wicked energy. But then again, it wasn’t as if it mattered. Archie undoubtedly saw his curses as boons, given by the widening eyes and satisfactory gaze as the words became bound to his soul. And then came a cascade of motion and energy trapped in a bubble of shattered perception, triggered by Borrowed Time stepping off to leave.
A blast of light blew the door apart as he turned, forcing the world to a crawl. The Owl turned to see a shockwave plowing into Borrowed Time, knocking him off of his feet and throwing him through the air at a comically slow pace while Archie shot up from his desk, his lips contorting in preparations to deal a barrage of swears towards the one and only Ferris Licht. And then time resumed at its normal pace with the Witch of Light’s shouting rebuttal coming to a grinding halt as she heard a groan from Borrowed Time and bent low to help him up.
Meanwhile, Archie suddenly stopped and looked to where the Owl had been with a shocked expression, bringing the eyes of Ferris, and eventually Borrowed Time to turn to where he was looking. In turn, the Owl looked at the amorphous frames standing in a decrepit office of rotted wood and warped art. If only for a second until the vestiges were tucked away and my eyes turned to the arcane words inscribing themselves onto the fetid airs of the Shadow Realm; words that were promptly ignored by the painful aches and pains blooming within both my physical body and my spiritual one.
[The Path of Zefroth - Step 1: See Evil, Hear Evil, Speak Evil. Task: Complete.]
Within my spirit, I could see a black mass surrounded by golden light aggregate and settle in place beneath my Mana Well. So small it was in comparison. Yet the discomfort it produced was immense.
[Reward: Mutation - [Cursed Well.] Within this Well of Wicked Energy- found both within your Spirit and your Underworld- rests the souls you’ve cursed or dealt with. On its own, this Cursed Mana is used for your evolution into the Void Devil. However, it can and will be used to give power to your Cursed Warlocks; and so too can it be used for necrotic healing at your discretion.]
Another pain soon came from my spirit, forcing more space between my three Wells of Arcana, Divine, and Cursed Mana before it was quelled.
[Reward: Mutation - [Ovatorium.] This small spiritual organ contains the blueprints of your future Void Devil evolutions.]
The pain- pain I had long since grown used to, became intolerable once it spread to my eyes. I thrashed in the muck of the Shadowfell, clutching and clawing at my eyes that felt like they’d melted into blobs of searing metal that remained in my sockets to cool and reform into new optical organs.
[Reward: Evolution - [Void Devil’s Eyes.] With the Eyes of the Void Devil, you can look through the windows to the soul and shop for the desires of any mortal.]
Then came a searing pain in my ears. They felt as if they were on fire. Melting and sloughing off my skull to be replaced by a cold fiery chill that spread from the depths of my ear canal until it finally reached the tips of my elven ears.
[Reward: Evolution - [Void Devil’s Ears.] This physical evolution enables you to hear the pleas of mortals within 10,000 kilometers of your location; facilitating your ability to seek them out and curse or make deals with them. Or not.]
I couldn’t even celebrate or think of how far I’d take the perk, as a greater pain soon spread through my mouth. It was as if I'd eaten the hottest pepper in existence- nay, as if a cereal of the hottest peppers in existence was poured into a slurry of white phosphorous and pure sodium and forced down my throat.
It was a type of torture that made my years with Grandpa Lich seem like a playfight. But, like all things, it passed, leaving me staring at the arcane words hanging mockingly over my head.
[Reward: Evolution - [Void Devil’s Tongue.] With the Tongue of the Void Devil, your Cursed Spells, Curses, and Deals are made an order of magnitude stronger than that of your devil-kin. Regardless of what language they’ve been spoken in, only a wish can revert your Curses, but never your Deals. When the Tongue of Void speaks Deep Abyssal, however, the words have the power to transcend space-time and even your demise. Able to be reversed only by yourself.]
[The Path of Zefroth: Step Two - The Flesh: To take the Second Step toward your fiendish throne, you must gather one thousand souls and trigger your first transformation.]