The neon sign of Willy's Bar cast a sickly green glow over the cracked, dirty windows, barely illuminating the dark interior. The bar was a haven for the supernatural, a place where vampires, demons, and other creatures of the night could relax and plot away from the prying eyes of humans. Tonight, the air was thick with the scent of spilled beer and the faint, metallic tang of blood. The jukebox in the corner played a mournful blues tune, its bassline reverberating through the smoky air.

At the bar, a scaly blue demon named Kreel nursed a glass of something viscous and red, his sharp claws tapping a slow rhythm on the counter. Nearby, a group of vampires were huddled around a table, their low voices blending with the hum of conversation. The atmosphere was tense, as it often was in a place where rivalries and grudges simmered just below the surface.

The door swung open with a creak, drawing all eyes to the newcomer. Kreel looked up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the man who had just entered. He was tall, with a confident, almost arrogant stride. He was dressed in an expensive-looking black robe made of silk, but it was the artifact on his arm that caught everyone's attention. A Gauntlet of some kind, its dark metal glistening ominously, pulsed with an almost palpable power.

The bar fell silent as the man walked in, his gaze sweeping over the assembled patrons. Kreel felt a shiver of unease. This wasn’t just any human or demon; this was someone dangerous.

A burly Lizard demon with deep green skin and yellow eyes stepped into the man's path, puffing out his chest in a show of bravado. “You think you can just walk in here and flash that thing around?” the demon growled.

The newcomer didn’t flinch. He casually raised his gloved hand and whispered some kind of incantation. A thick stream of lightning shot out, striking the demon square in the chest, then lifting him bodily through the air. The air filled with the smell of ozone and burning flesh as the demon screamed, flying backward and slamming into the far wall with a crash.

This was followed by silence.

Kreel shivered, fascinated and horrified. The bar had seen its share of fights, but this was something different. This man wielded power with ease, and he wasn’t afraid to use it. The man's expression didn't change -- it was as if he just swatted a mosquito rather than an adult Li'rd demon.

The man approached the bar calmly, stopping just a few feet to Kreel's right.

“What can I get you?” Willy asked, his voice trembling.

The man slammed a thick wad of cash onto the counter. “I’m looking for information,” he said, his voice carrying through the now-silent bar. “Ten thousand dollars to anyone who can tell me where to find the nest of Nezzla Demons. Word is, they operate out of a cavern in the area.”

Kreel’s eyes widened. Ten thousand dollars was a small fortune. The man was dangerous, yes, but he looked competent -- and strength was a true (and only) virtue among demons. Kreel recalled seeing the Nezzla nest (uncivilized savages!) on a dirt path towards the Ocean. He smiled a smile full of fangs. "Yes, the cavern's down by the beach! For ten thousand, I'll tell you exactly where it is. Throw in another five, I'll walk ya there and show you!"

The stranger nodded without haggling and took out another stack of hundreds. It was shaping up to be a good night after all!

Observing the greenish blue shimmer attesting to the mystical barrier of the Nezzla Demons, Mark couldn't be happier with how the evening was progressing so far. First, he managed to find the Glove -- which turned out to be far more useful than one might think. At first, he was concerned that it would get permanently attached if he used it. However, after testing the concept on a random vampire on the way to Willy's, it became obvious that the artifact can simply be pulled into his soul inventory space at any time as long as it's in range -- whether it's attached to someone's arm or not.

Modern magical innovations 1, cursed ancient artifacts 0.

Mark then got even luckier when one of the Demons at Willy's just so happened to know where he could find the nest of Nezzla demons. This was excellent news, as the beasts guarded the Orbs of Nezzla'Khan, quite possibly the most useful artifacts a squishy mortal like himself could get a hold of in a reasonable time-frame. Many speculated that each of the Orbs contained a drop of suspended essence of a powerful Old One or Elder God. So powerful is their effect that anyone who merely carries them will be granted with an incredible boost of physical strength and durability. In Season 6 of the show, Orb-carrying Warren Mears -- as a completely mundane human untrained in hand-to-hand combat -- was able to easily beat down Buffy after shrugging off several tons of collapsed debris. The only drawback of the Orbs seemed to be their apparent fragility. However, Mark had a feeling that carrying the Orbs in spatial storage located within his soul was more than sufficient to trigger their effect, which would elegantly take care of the artifacts' only drawback.

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Now, how could he gain access to their lair...

Mark approached the entrance cautiously. The mystic barrier over it shimmered with a faint, ethereal light, its surface rippling like water. He reached out a hand, not touching the barrier but feeling and analyzing the energy emanating from it.

What he found didn't fill Mark with confidence. The protections were, in a word, powerful. Brute force was simply out of the question, even with the Glove -- and he was dealing with an intricate weave of magic that would take hours—if not days—to manually unravel. Unacceptable. He needed to get inside quickly, retrieve the Orbs of Nezzla’Khan, and get out so that he could get on with his other plans.

Mark’s eyes shifted to the surrounding rock. The cavern was formed from ordinary stone, and, apparently, was not enhanced or protected by any sort of magic. A plan formed in his mind. If he couldn’t go through the barrier, he would simply go around it. Mark flexed his gloved hand, feeling the power of the Glove of Myhnegon pulsing in response. The Glove was a force multiplier of epic proportions, especially for lightning spells -- and Marcus' rituals have tremendously enhanced his body's lightning magic affinity. With the Glove amplifying his already superior keraunomancy talent, tunneling through the rock should be not only feasible, but a simple task.

Mark stepped back, raising the Glove into the air and speaking the incantation to recharge his surroundings with lightning mana.

"Tar chugam a chumhacht Myhnegon!"

High above him, dark storm clouds have begun to gather, as the lightning mana from miles around was channeled towards its Master's singular purpose. The air around him crackled with energy, and the smell of ozone filled the space. Suddenly, a burst of bright yellow lightning as think as an Oak tree impacted the glove, not hurting Mark in the slightest, but filling him to the brim with unadulterated power.

He gathered his intent and focused on a section of the stone wall a few feet to the side of the barrier.

"Tar frim!", Mark proclaimed, sending a massive stream of plasma into the rock.

The rock splintered and shattered under the assault, chunks of molten stone flying away from the impact. Mark continued to channel the energy, carving a tunnel through the rock with precision and efficiency. The heat from the Glove and molten rock radiated through the air, mingling with the growing dust cloud of pulverized stone. Several tense minutes passed as the tunnel slowly grew deep and wide enough for Mark to step through. Sweat beaded on Mark’s forehead from the exertion, but he pressed on, the prospect of the Orbs -- and obtaining a measure of safety in this crazy world -- driving him forward. Finally, the wall ahead crumbled away entirely, revealing the interior of the Nezzla demon cavern.

Mark stepped through the newly created entrance, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light inside. The cavern looked far more impressive than in the show, its walls lined with bioluminescent fungi that cast a sickly green glow over everything. Mark was excited to make his way to the center, where the Orbs were kept. But between him and his prize were quite a few Nezzla demons. Tall, hulking figures with thick, leather and stone-like skin that made them highly resistant to many kinds of attacks. He encountered several just two minutes after making his way inside the complex. The demons' eyes glowed with a malevolent light as they turned to face the intruder, guttural growls rumbling from their throats.

And yet, while the demons' skin may have been stone-like, they were hardly a match for Mark, who just spent several minutes carving his way through literal stone. The Nezzla demons charged, their heavy footsteps shaking the ground, but Mark didn’t hesitate. He raised his gloved hand, and the air hummed with power once again. And once again, streams of hot, electrified plasma emerged forth from the Glove -- going on to electrocute the advancing Nezzla, flash cook them inside their carapaces, blow them apart, and even reduce them to puddles of glowing, molten ash. The magical exertion was making Mark feel light-headed, until finally, mercifully, the demons' numbers thinned and Mark was alone in the central chamber.

Mark approached his prize, which was housed in an ornate box on some kind of altar-like protrusion. The Orbs' dark red glow pulsated softly, casting the surroundings in a mystic, almost sensual light. Gently reaching out, he felt a surge of power as his fingers brushed against their smooth surfaces. Slowly, ever so carefully, he lifted the Orbs out of their boxes, feeling their light weight and the immense power they contained.

And then, he decisively placed them into his soul space.

For several seconds, Marcus' eyes glowed with an eerie purple light, and his face sported a cold but satisfied smile.

Step two -- complete. But, Mark didn't feel like resting just yet.

After all, the night was still young.