Evildoers, Beware!

The Prince of Demons is an Unreasonably Sore Loser

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In the Lands of Areshlian…

When the Prince of Demons opened his eyes, three things were readily apparent: He was not in the Underworld, he was not in his own body, and he was most definitely not wearing any clothes.

“This… doesn't bode well.” Orcus grumbled wearily from beneath a mound of blankets, under which his flaccid, unfamiliar form lay pinned and drenched in sweat.

Something about the nature of where he was felt vaguely familiar, and yet highly disturbing. There was a slight breeze drifting about the tiny room in which he now found himself, no doubt the quarters of some puny and pathetic soul. But there was also an all too pungent smell hanging about the space. It wasn’t pleasant, and yet it was so damned familiar. In fact, it was unnerving how recognizable that smell was.

“Is that…” Orcus murmured curiously, but he knew well enough.

He might have been confused at first, but even in this wretched state the Prince of Demons could tell when he was in the mortal world. But just how in the hell had he gotten to be here in the first place?

Orcus’s mind felt far too glossy for one whose mental facilities were second-to-none, as if he’d been stricken by a bout of amnesia, and so he gave himself pause to think. Slowly but surely, blurry images of the past began to swirl in his stream of consciousness, ebbing through various moments and memories as they led him straight to—wait, his death?

As if a bolt of lightning suddenly struck Orcus dead-on, he jolted upright with a violent scowl.

Oh yes, he had died alright. In a miraculous turn of events, the God of Undeath had kicked the bucket. But who, curses tell, was responsible for such an otherworldly contradiction? Why, the other Demon Lords, of course. His own damned subordinates!

Orcus squinted irritably.

So, they finally betrayed me, huh? He pondered amusingly.

It was worse than that, in some ways, they’d outright murdered his ass. But why would they do such a thing? The Prince of Demons needed to get to the bottom of this egregious misbehavior, and thus he elected to press a little deeper into his innermost thoughts.

…

It was the eve of their grand assembly. The Court of Demons finally reconvened after a hundred-year recess, to discuss matters of the abyssal realm. Not that Orcus believed any of them were there in good faith. In fact, each of them was only breaking the hiatus on account of some very juicy gossip: The Prince of Demons was going to conquer the mortal world once and for all? It was a titillating revelation that shocked the Underworld, and one entirely of Orcus’s own design.

There could be no hiding from the fact that many of the Demon Lords simply loathed one another. They were the di Inferi, after all—the Gods Below—the most powerful beings to dwell in the Underworld. As a result, their hubris could not be placated so easily. Still, if there was one thing that could possibly bring them all together, it surely had to be a neatly packaged plan for planar domination.

It was the perfect bait, and Orcus had been anticipating a very strong bite. However, even he could never have expected them to use his own shining moment to stab him in the back.

Darkness had ensued thereafter, and his accursed soul drifted off to somewhere silent. It was quite peaceful for a change. If he hadn’t been dead set on conquering the mortal world, it wouldn’t have been such a bad place to linger for a little while.

But suddenly, there was a gentle light amidst the void. Before long, Orcus reached out to it. It was so blinding, he hated everything about it. He tried to swat it away—so much for peace and quiet! There was no other choice, he had to destroy that light once and for all—

…

“Good morning, Prince of Demons.” Said an eager voice abruptly, all but dragging Orcus from the depths of his own recollections, “Am I glad to see that you’re finally awake.”

Orcus shot up and out of the bed, his barren feet slapped the hardwood floor as he whipped the sheets aside. Scowling in the voice’s general direction, and assuming a borderline feral posture, he made ready to strike.

Woe be to any fool that offered him an unsolicited good morning!

But to his surprise, there was no one there. Instead, a small bird hewn from granite stone sat perched atop the nearby windowsill. Rays of morning sunshine streamed in through the white drapery, casting the oddly shaped creature in curious light as it stared back at him.

The bird cocked its head to the side, squawking, “I didn’t mean to alarm you, Your Highness. But please, you’ve been asleep for some time now. I was truly starting to wonder if you’d ever wake up. Anyhow, and if you don’t mind, I’d much prefer that we talked civilly.”

“…Say your piece, then.” The Prince of Demons sighed crossly, easing his intensity somewhat. He wasn’t unfamiliar with golems, presuming this creature was in fact of a similar design, and thus added more demandingly, “Where's your master? I would have words with them. I simply have no recollection of how I came to be here, nor of this pasty carcass in which my soul seems to have found anchor. Well? Speak quickly.”

“Apologies, Your Highness. But I’m afraid that just won’t be possible.” The bird replied, hopping forward slightly, “There’s about a ninety-eight percent chance that my creator knows absolutely nothing of the comings and goings of this world. So, I’m afraid they won’t really be of much help.”

“You lie.” Orcus hissed, offering the bird a look of disbelief and disdain, “Clearly, I have been summoned by some great artificer or powerful wizard, trapped in this feeble body to do their bidding, or to fulfill their deepest desires. They have seen my dark reflection in their foulest dream—the void of their innermost heart—and have wrongfully cast my undying soul hither to the realm of mortal flesh.”

“Or…” The bird tarried, “We could just say that your predicament is a little more unusual than that.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Being that you are the Prince of Demons, I feel it is my obligation to tell you that no one brought you here against your will. That much I have been able to deduce.” The bird stated, “Actually, even if your soul was wandering around aimlessly in the void, I doubt anyone would have even bothered to capture it—”

“Slanderous.” Orcus interjected, who otherwise at present couldn’t seem to help but scratch at the itchiest regions of his new body, but continued nonetheless, “Are you suggesting that my soul simply wandered here of its own volition? What kind of a fool do you take me for? If it was this easy, I would have killed myself ages ago.”

“Ah—I wouldn’t go so far as to say that you had any control over it, per se.” The bird shook its head in response, “Granted, it’s not every day that a Demon Lord dies and gets reincarnated here in the mortal world. What are the odds that the Underworld’s spit-shiny, top brass sovereign comes to dwell among the living out of pure coincidence? Well, former sovereign, anyway.”

“Mind your tongue, bird. I am still the God of the Underworld.” Orcus heightened his tone of voice, gritting his teeth somewhat at the concession, “Though correct you might be, regarding this… abrupt reincarnation, it does not change my nature. I am the master of undeath. I cannot be made to die.”

“Technically, Your Highness.” The bird prolonged with a ginger tone of voice, “I’m not saying that you’re wrong. But my ‘logic’ parameters insist that I also tell you this: There is a world in which reincarnation implies prior death. Yes? Well, unfortunately for you, that world is this one.”

Who made this insufferable creature? Orcus thought irritably to himself, rubbing the sides of his head as the temptation to pulverize something small and chatty came over him suddenly. But his thoughts quickly turned over to other matters.

“This bodes far worse than even I could have anticipated.” Orcus muttered to himself, entirely repulsed by his current situation.

Unwittingly, the Prince of Demons grabbed a pillow from the bed and began to squeeze it, further rambling to himself, “If the other gods think they’ve accomplished something through this little act, then either they’ve sorely miscalculated just who in the hell they’re dealing with, or they’ve collectively lost their damned minds. I will not tolerate such insubordination!”

“Your Highness, please, if you would just allow me to explain a bit more, I’m sure I could—”

“I mean, what did they expect to happen?” Orcus chuckled maddeningly. As he gripped the pillow tighter, shadowy tendrils began to seep from his palms and into the cream-colored linen of the pillowcase, “For me to go away quietly and let them do whatever they pleased with my domain? The audacity. They don’t seem to understand this game. Do they think they’ve won so simply because of a teeny-tiny insurrection? Well, have I got a treat for you, mongrels: You’ve played your hand. And now, I believe it is my turn!”

“Uh… about that, we should really discuss the larger issue at hand here—”

“Silence!” Orcus snapped, his true voice breaking through the barrier momentarily.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

He was seething now.

Without so much as a second thought, he flung the decomposing pillow away from himself with blistering speed. It made straight for the stone bird, which barely had enough time to skitter out of the way, letting out a screech as it flailed about. The black mass of cloth flew straight through the drapery, straight through the window, and sailed off into a nearby field.

Stomping across the room towards the window, the exceptionally naked Prince of Demons leaned his body out the threshold and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Hear me, because you’re all dead when I’ve returned! Every one of your heads will decorate the walls of my palace! You might be thinking to yourselves right now, just how nice it is that I’m no longer around to blot your ambitions, but oh-oh-oh you will learn otherwise. Do you hear understand? Repent if you wish, I will not be merciful!”

A drove of cattle glanced up at him from the pasture, and their dumb faces reminded Orcus presently of the other Demon Lords. Ugly cow moans resounded like twisted laughter, taunting Orcus ever so slightly. He had half a mind to jump out of that window, march down into that field, and slay those cows where they stood, but the bird reeled him back in.

“Your Highness!” It squawked from the interior of the room, “Compose yourself for one moment and let me explain something to you. And would you please stop shouting bloody murder out the window? Someone will have heard that… or worse, seen that.”

Orcus shot a darkened glare back inside, hissing, “I've had just about enough of your babbling, bird. You will tell me what it is you want from me, and the answer you give will inform me of my decision on whether to crush you into tiny pieces or not. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yeah—okay—crystal clear, let’s just take it back a few steps.” The bird began nervously, “Look, my name is—well, it’s Terminus. Although my full designation is strictly confidential at this time, I suppose I’m here to inform you that I’ve been assigned to you as your, uh… personal GM.”

Orcus’s dark expression lightened, twisting into one of momentary confusion, “Huh?”

“GM. As in general mediator. For better or worse, I’m a sentient construct with mid-range autonomy, given explicit instructions to aid mortals in their worldly endeavors. From now on, I will accompany you on your journey through these lands, as you prepare to face down the invading demon armies.”

Orcus continued to stare blankly.

“Did you say—I—wait...” He shook his head belatedly, scowling in disbelief, “What did you just say!”

“I said… the invading demon armies?” Terminus reiterated softly with an optimistic tone, but doubled down on his efforts before Orcus could get mad again, “Look, I know how that must sound to you right about now, but please don’t throw anything else at me.”

“…You'd better tell me.” Orcus mumbled.

“Right.” Terminus nodded, a hint of relief in his voice, “They first appeared as a small host of aggressors on the other side of the continent, about two years ago. Slowly but steadily, coordinated attacks have begun to pop up in these lands as well, as the demonic host adapted to the conditions of this world. Chaos and evil are spreading quickly, and the need for adventurers is more imperative than ever! That’s where you come in. Uhm, Your Highness? You… don’t look so good.”

The Prince of Demons twitched. He had to step away from the window altogether just to sit down on the edge of the bed and collect himself.

Two years? Had he been dead for that long? It felt like only a few seconds. And what’s more, had they stolen his plans for world conquest in all that time? And now they were passing it off as their own? Implementing it without him? The one who came up with the whole damned thing in the first place?

The extraordinary arrogance!

Did they even stop to think—no. No, it was all theoretical, of course. Because none of it would be allowed to persist. Nobody was permitted to conquer the mortal world but him. And anyone who tried to claim otherwise, would be utterly destroyed. End of discussion.

“Bird…” Orcus’s voice quavered commandingly, putting a finger up to his lips, as he murmured, “Tell me the current status of this body. I know it isn’t much, but I wish to know exactly what it is capable of at this current juncture.”

“It’s Terminus, by the way, but we can circle back to that.” Terminus mumbled, as he hopped from the windowsill to the bed.

The sapphire gems acting as Terminus’s eyes glowed momentarily, as they inspected the Prince of Demons with careful intent.

Orcus’s newfound body was nothing special. As far as mortals were concerned, it was of average build, average height, and possessed of starkly crimson hair. To him, it was a flimsy, fleshy, particularly pathetic shell. It was unbefitting of a Demon Lord, let alone the Prince of Demons, and was hardly in any condition to face down the demon armies, much less the ones that he’d had a hand in creating. Still, it would have to make do until he could return to his proper form.

“I’m not sure if you’ve realized by now, but this body of yours is actually a homunculus.” Terminus explained, “My records indicate that it was created over a thousand years ago. Unfortunately, it hasn’t retained any data regarding where it was created or who the creator was, or even where it’s been this whole time. Now, I’ve already corroborated the timeline of events with the very kind people who live here—you know, the ones who’ve been looking after you since you first appeared out of nowhere—and they said that you were simply found lying in a pile of hay out in the barn, about a couple of days ago. That’s also about the time when I came online, receiving my assignment to be your mediator. Regardless, this body is in surprisingly good condition, appearing like any other human. Would you like me to continue? Or do you need another moment?”

Orcus wasn’t much convinced, and he certainly wasn’t pleased by the sympathies, but said, “You may proceed.”

Not before too much longer, Terminus’s eyes dimmed, and he said confidently, “There’s always a silver lining, Your Highness. As I was about to explain before that little outburst of yours just now, the time for heroes is nigh. As chaos spreads, capable adventurers must be ready to answer the call and defend this world from peril.”

Orcus furrowed his brow, “You do not seem to understand. It would be foolish to think that I care for this world in any capacity. My destiny is to conquer it.”

“But Your Highness, wouldn’t this destiny of yours imply that you care for it on some strange, perverted level? I mean, it’s not like you don’t care for it. Otherwise, why would you bother trying to conquer it at all? You don’t necessarily have to think of something fondly, to find a reason to care.”

“Guh—I…” Orcus grumbled awkwardly, “Your inferences are out of line, bird, and they are growing tiresome—”

“And anyway, just how are you going to conquer the mortal world if the other Demon Lords beat you to it?” Terminus interjected, “What glory would be left for the Prince of Demons in conquering that which has already been conquered? If you want them to put you to shame, o’ Demon King of Conquers, then that’s for you to decide.”

This bird was talking complete nonsense. Or was it?

“Look, I’m no divine being, obviously, so I won’t speak on your behalf,” Terminus backpedaled, “I’m just trying to make my point, that whoever designed this homunculus body did so with clear intention. Its design is immaculate. And it deceptively bypasses all the triggers that would otherwise disqualify you as being a mortal. That means you now have the same eligibility for Character Record Potential, just like many other mortals in this world. It may seem weak right now, but that’s the entire point! You have limitless growth potential.”

“You speak in riddles.” Orcus groaned, “What does any of this mean?”

“Your body is a loophole.” Terminus replied, “Its creator must have known that too. Think of it as a technicality in an otherwise heavily scrutinized system. I’m certain even the Prince of Demons doesn’t require me to explain how exploitation works.”

“Hmm... yes, well,” Orcus drifted momentarily, adding, “You will explain yourself regardless, bird.”

“I told you, it’s Terminus.” Terminus cocked its head to the side, as if to indicate some grief, but sprung back up to say, “Listen, I’m talking about the Akashic Record. The mortal chronicle, as in the gift from the Gods Above to defend this world from evil. Every mortal across the land has the right to follow a path of their own choosing. But for some mortals, that path is one of an adventurer—of a Hero. You can grow, and you can become more than what you are now. In other words—”

“I can become powerful enough to destroy even the Gods.” Orcus nodded calmly; he was beginning to understand, as a sudden memory came flooding into his mind.

Hero…

Yes, he had been here before. Not this exact place, perhaps, but these mortal lands. The smell was just the same as it had been back then. That was why it was so familiar before. But that was ages ago? And he was much younger then, long before he conquered the Underworld and became its sovereign ruler.

Back then, he was still serving as a general in his father’s conquering army. Pluto, the late God of the Underworld, had trusted him to lead a portion of his armies into battle. How had he forgotten that? The sheer and utter defeat they faced back then, the overwhelming power of the Heroes’ Party, and the visceral death of his father… yes, he remembered them quite well now.

That was the day he promised never to lose again. It was the sole reason for his desire to conquer the mortal world. Retribution. And ages later, on the eve of his fulfillment, it seemed to have all been stolen from him by those he trusted most to deliver him his promise.

“You insolent fools will pay for this transgression.” Orcus muttered coldly, but turned to face the stone magpie once more, “Are you trying to say that I can truly become one of these… heroes? The kind that can fell even the greatest of divine beings? Like myself.”

“It wouldn’t be that simple, mind you.”

“But you are suggesting that? No?”

“Ehm…sort of. I mean—under normal circumstances, no way!” Terminus shook his wing slightly, who seemed somewhat hesitant by even what he was saying, “You’re the Prince of Demons, for crying out loud. Strictly from a technical point of view, there should be no scenario in which you have access to the power of mortals. I know we discussed the loophole, but this is their system to fight back against an unforgiving world. Then again, these are very irregular circumstances. I don’t how, or why, but the logic is sound. What I’m telling you is the truth. I know that for certain.”

“Heroes: Those with the power to tear down the will of the Gods.” Orcus grimaced, he was starting to like the sound of where this was going, “Mortals possess the right to achieve such ambition. And because my soul has entered into a contract with a body deemed worthy of such rights…”

“Then by every metric inherent to this worldly system, you have every right to follow that ambition as well. To whatever end you deem necessary.” Terminus finished the thought, “And it is my belief that I’ve been assigned to you, to see that we fulfill this exact purpose together.”

Orcus narrowed his eyes, “To whatever end?”

“Defeating the demon armies, is a good start.” Terminus reaffirmed, “But whatever it takes, that is now your mission. Our mission, if you’ll have me. Besides, my ‘ethics’ parameters aren’t nearly robust enough to even begin to sift through the morally ambiguous nature of this scenario. Though I’ll tell you one thing, it sure seems like the Gods Above are on your side for this one. I mean, why else would something like this be allowed to happen? Even if my creator wasn't aware of this exploit, the timing couldn’t have been better.”

“Do the di Superi mean for me to do their bidding?” Orcus pondered amusedly; it wasn’t a terrible maneuver, if true.

But if the Court of Angels really thought for one second that he was going to accept their ‘gifts’ and raise arms against the Abyss, that he was going to drive the Demon Lords into crushing defeat on their behalf, then they were dead wrong. He might do it for his own cathartic pleasure, but he certainly wouldn’t be settling for a “crushing” defeat.

If he was going to do this, then he was going to do it right, by obliterating every single demon that found the audacity to come to this world without asking his permission first. He would eviscerate every single fiend that thought they could enjoy the spoils of his rightful conquest. From the lowest wretch to the most insufferable God, all of them would be purged from this undeserved existence. And then, when evildoers were no more, perhaps he would have a very good chuckle, return to the Underworld, and start his plans for planar conquest anew.

In other words, it was now his move.

“Let us begin, bird.” Orcus said with a sinister smile, “There is work to be done.”

Yes, the Prince of Demons had lost in spectacular fashion. But he was an unreasonably sore loser, after all, and there was simply nothing anyone could do about it now.