Meanwhile, in the Empire, a distraught Jasmine sat at the bedside of Peter. She had only known him for a few weeks. Still, she had grown to care for him. Though she would never admit it out loud. Her own family had little compassion for her own siblings. Latching onto a teenage stranger seems ill-suited for a woman of her station.

Of course, internally she cared little for what her family thought of her. She just maintained the façade because it was convenient and economical. But in this world of swords and magic. Was it okay for her to act out and express herself? Even without the oppressive shadow of her family. There were still threats, even in this fantastical world.

Her prior conversation with the witch took the air out of her lungs. Demon infections were nasty business and not even the spirits could save someone from it. Peter, along with the Lord Governor, was handed a death sentence. Demons were a concept she barely pondered, even back on earth. Her family created the guise of God fearing, but most, include herself, were atheists. Sitting there, hopeless and without recourse, she wracked her brain around a solution.

“What the hell do I do?” She asked no one.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” A voice answered.

Looking around, she couldn’t spot the origin. The only sound was the soft snoring of Peter.

“You can’t see me, can you? Wait a minute, this magic is very finnicky.”

She could hear someone humming. The situation was very surreal. Despite her nervousness, she calmed herself quickly. Magic was real in this world, so why not magical voice chat? The moment she thought of that, her mind turned to holographic video chat, as an illusion of a man took form.

“Can you see me now?” He asked, waving his hands in front.

“Yes, I can. Quite impressive. Is it some sort of long-distance communication magic?” She asked, passing her hand through the illusion.

“Well, it's a kind of combination of several magics. Complicated stuff, especially in this world.”

“This world?” She inquired, getting closer to the answer.

“Come on Jazz, you should know already.”

“Don’t call me Jazz, it’s Jasmine.” She corrected sternly.

“But that’s a perfect nickname.” He remarked, only to be rebuffed.

“Your no fun.”

“And you're weird.” She stated flatly.

“Never been called weird before, but I have been called mad.” Twirling a finger around his ear, he emphasised he was indeed, loco.

“But enough of the past, especially since the present is so interesting.”

“Indeed... Who are you exactly?”

“Oh, where are my manners? My mother would smack me on the head for this?” The illusion stood and bowed.

“Alistair Klark, former summoned hero to the Kingdom of Vethia, Branded Sorcerer of Gorcythe, the Mad Wizard of Asteria and Saviour of Matesh. Pleased to make your acquittance.” He finished his introduction with a last flourish of his hands.

“That’s quite the list of titles.” She answered flatly.

“Oh, I'm sure you will have a number before the year's end. Champion of Terranuk.”

“So, I was right. You are like us, summoned as a hero. Yet the empire was adamant there were only three heroes summoned. Of course, I am not blind to the lack of a fourth element.” She gestured to him; he responded by creating a mini tornado in his palm.

“You are the fourth hero?”

"Only technically, the emperor was correct. They only summoned three."

“Does that mean you are some sort of inter-dimensional hitchhiker?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but in a technical sense, you are correct.” Ending his magic trick, he leaned forward with a smile.

“But enough of the introductions. I have a debt to pay. If it was not for you, I would be a red smear on the pavement.” Nodding his head, he gave another slight bow of respect.

“With this in mind, whatever you need, the grand wizard Al will provide. Within reason, of course.” He offered, hoping she didn’t ask for something crazy.

Instead of answering, she pondered her next words. Her gaze subtly drawn to the sleeping form of Peter. Understanding dawned. Al immediately knew what she was going to ask.

“Can you cure Peter and Lord Anthos?” She inquired.

“Depends on what malady has befallen them.”

“The wizards and spirit magi all say it's the devil's poison. Blood from an arch-devil is toxic to the soul. There is no cure, at least according to them. But you have travelled to other worlds. Perhaps you have learned a way.”

“Devil’s poison. I have heard it called by another name. Taint of the infernal, they called it on Matesh.” He described, thinking back on his past.

“They're certainly a cure, but I doubt the Empire will go for it. Heretical, I think.”

Tilting her head, she noted his answer. She weighed the options; her understanding of the Empire was not miniscule. She could see the prejudice against non-human races. In fact, she found it surprising that slavery wasn't normalised. Yet the religious zealotry was obvious. The temples preached against demons and Demi-humans. While she couldn’t fathom demons being anything other than misunderstood non-humans. This man's answers suggest demonic entities of infernal might may in fact exist

“Taint of the infernal. Are you suggesting demons are real, not just demonised non-humans?” She inquired, curious, but also concerned.

"Oh yes, demons from the infernal planes exist. I suspect the demons of this world are the descendants of some invading demonic host. The world I was summoned to also experienced similar events in its history."

“For example, the Demon Kingdom of Kimera was a nation in the world of Matesh. Labelled as a den of demonic forces. It was, in fact, three different nations, loosely bound by a confederation. Only one of the member kingdoms had citizens of a demonic origin. The true name would, in fact, be the Triarchy of Kimera or the United Kingdom of Kimera. But united kingdoms might be a stretch. One of the member nations, the Court of Von-Tyr, is more akin to a council of state of vampire houses.” He explained with his own little lore dump.

“Sorry about the lore dump, anthropology major. Species and civilisations are a bit of a hobby.” He added, shrugging.

“You attended college?”

“Only for about a year, getting summoned to another world cut off my education prospects.”

“I can certainly see that as a problem. I took a double major in finance and business administration.”

“Business savvy, nice.”

The two shared a smile, hiding shared bitter disappointment. Both had regrets, but neither had any inclination to voice them.

“Well, I have a debt to pay, but I think I know what you will ask.” He gestured to the prone form of Peter.

“Do you know of a method to treat him? I would consider the debt paid in full.” She asked, more desperately than she had expected.

“I know of a way, though it is quite heretical. At least based on this place's perspective.” Casting his gaze around, he gestured to the room. Of course, he was referring to the empire.

“What kind of method?”

“Well, it would require summoning a friend of mine to administer the treatment.”

“Are they some kind of doctor or wizard?” She queried.

“Oh, he knows a lot about magic. Except his skills lie in the more infernal aspects of study.” He answered, smiling sheepishly.

"If he can help, I will consider your debt paid. Can he treat two patients? The local lord was also poisoned."

“I'm sure he can cater for two patients.”

The two agreed, but Jasmine was still concerned and asked the obvious question.

“Who exactly is this person?”

Al smiled, one part concerned, and another amused.

“Oh, he is a resident of the infernal. If you could give him a label, he would be a mid-tier demon sorcerer.”

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The word he just uttered sent a shock down her spine. Did he just offer to summon a demon to assist her? That was what she thought, and she knew it was heresy. Not that she subscribed to the temple's teachings, although she was a champion of one of them.

“You want to summon a demon into the Empire. An Empire that views demons as heretical beings of malice?” She asked, not out of any prejudice, more for concern about discovery.

“It is a risk; I found this empire odd when I arrived. But I can see where they are coming from. It makes sense for them to become demon haters and human supremacists. Nothing like an external enemy to get a species to hate collectively.” Adding with a slight chuckle, he laid bare his opinion.

“If that is the case, do we have any other options?” She asked, not expecting much.

“Not that I can think of, and I don’t think we have much time.”

The finality of his answer cemented the path they must tread upon. Resigning to the truth, she inquired how to go about summoning this demon.

The process was remarkably simple. Draw a specific diagram on the floor, sacrifice some blood, do a simple chant followed by the demon's name. With the apparition's help, Jasmine traced the runic symbols on the floor. She used paint she had gained from a servant and sketched out the diagram. It took a few tries, but she got it as close as possible.

Throughout the process, her mind wandered to her worries. Was this the best choice, is another option available, is this man even trustworthy? Many questions swirled around her mind. Still, she continued. Peter was dying and no one else had an answer.

With the diagram finished, Al explained the chant. Going through each verse. The chant was odd in English. Al explained that summoning chants doesn’t require a specific language. The chant will work if you say the correct words and perform the demonic rites. He also added you need a rich magical environment or an appropriate power source.

"From shadows deep and curses black, Maligore, heed our beck and call. Sorcerer of maladies, answer our plea, with healing touch, let afflictions fall. By incantations and powers unknown, we bind our fates to your sinister grace. Grant your mending, but demand the toll. In darkness and pain, our pacts embrace. From realms of shadows emerge. The doctor of demons, the healer of dread. Maligore, we summon thee. With arcane words, our desires spread."

With a cut of the palm and the chant performed, the diagram glowed faintly. A moment passed without a sign. Suddenly, the diagram emanated heat. Soon after, a gout of fire rose to eye level, before exhausting in an instant.

They stood the demon, so named Maligore, the accursed healer and doctor of the damned. Tattered, obsidian robes that seem to absorb even the faintest hint of light drape over his tall, imposing figure. The fabric shimmers with an otherworldly iridescence, casting an eerie glow on his gaunt, pallid complexion. His eyes burn like smouldering embers, radiating a malevolent energy that seems to pierce through the darkness.

A twisted grin curled on his thin lips, revealing a hint of sharp, jagged teeth that glint ominously. His fingers, adorned with ornate, gnarled rings, twitch with an anticipation of the dark sorcery he's about to unleash. The very air seems to shiver in his presence, as if recoiling from the depths of his sinister power.

But to Jasmine, he looks strangely cartoonish, like a dedicated Halloween attendee. In fact, she could probably purchase that complete outfit online and go as a female version. Stifling a laugh, since this demon was here to help them. She remained stoic and gazed at him with expectation.

Amidst the demonic rune, the air crackled with dark energy. Maligore the Accursed is now here in complete form. His presence exuded an otherworldly aura as he fixed his piercing gaze upon the summoner. With a voice that seemed to echo from the abyss, he intoned, "I am Maligore, the twisted mender of souls, drawn from the nether to answer your call. Speak, mortal, and unveil the ailment that festers within you."

Jasmine, greeted by this demon, was about to answer. The sight of the demon silenced her. The demon shifted his gaze. I darted around the room. He was sniffing the air, his eyes shifted to the apparition that was Al. The demons' eyes burrowed into the spectral form.

“Alistair, you bastard, from which world did you summon me? This is not Matesh!” The demon doctor seemed less angry and more annoyed.

The demon glared at the spectral form; his eyes seemed to glow an ominous red. The tension was palpable, broken only by the next voice.

“Come on Mal, buddy old pal. Think of it as an adventure, new lands, new deals to be made.” Al tried to placate the demon with minimal success.

“Last time you said that, I almost got eaten by a dragon.”

“You're a demon Mal. You would just reform in the inferno.”

"That’s not the point. I don’t want a pissed off and wounded dragon to eat me!"

“Come on, Emberix was cool. He only tried to nip you. I mean, you jabbed him with a big ass needle.”

"That needle was expensive and contained a glorious concoction of my design. Perfectly made to assist in the digestion of undead fecal matter."

Raising his hands in a placating gesture, Al expressed his deepest apologies.

“Alright, I am sorry for that. Still, you owe me, and I would like to collect.” He added unashamedly.

Maligore shook his head, realising once again who he was talking to. Accepting his fate as the natural order of things, he turned to his summoner.

“Normally, I would require payment and a proper deal. But this was one will be free. Now, where is the patient?”

Jasmine turned to the prone form of Peter. This act signalled the demonic surgeon to act. Reaching out, he pulled a doctor's bag from thin air. It was black instead of white and appeared far more gothic. Stepping out of the of diagram, he arrived at his patient. Seating himself, a chair manifested below him. All ignored as a matter of course, all these feats of magic attending.

“Let’s have some privacy, shall we?” He fluttered his fingers, casting a silence spell.

Maligore, the sinister healer, loomed over with an air of calculated anticipation. With a gesture of his hand, he summoned a swirling vortex of black and crimson energy. It danced around the patient's form, akin to the festive fae. As the energies intertwined, the patient's screams intensified, merging with the unnerving chorus of whispering voices that echoed through the room. Maligore's eyes gleamed with an eerie intensity, chanting spells in a language long forgotten by mortals. Al stopped Jasmine from intervening by placing a hand on her arm.

Slowly, the patient's convulsions subsided, replaced by a ghastly stillness. With a final crescendo of power, Maligore thrust his hands into the vortex, causing it to surge into the patient's body. A sickly light enveloped the patient as the air crackled with malevolent energy. The light faded; the patient's features had changed.

Their once pale skin now bore intricate patterns of dark veins, pulsating with the essence of the demonic energy that now coursed through them. Maligore stepped back, his eyes filled with a perverse satisfaction. The patient's agonised expression had transformed into one of euphoric relief, a twisted smile curling their lips.

"You are healed, but forever changed," Maligore hissed, his voice a haunting undertone.

"The devil's blood within you now dances with the fire of the abyss. Embrace your newfound vitality, for you are bound to the darkness that has made you whole once more."

Peter who had just come out of the abyss of sleep. Fluttered his eyelids, his body felt light, and the pain had gone. Before he could get his bearings, a strange sense came into focus. A presence he felt only once before was soon to arrive. Maligore, who was standing above him, sensed this presence as well.

“That’s my cue to leave.” With those words, he vanished in a puff of smoke.

“I’ll make sure he heals the other guy. You can consider us even.” Al added, before he vanished as well.

Only Jasmine and Peter remained. She was concerned, while he was thoroughly confused. Rising to a seated position, his gaze fell upon Jasmine.

“Jazz, what's going on?” He weakly asked. Despite the treatment, he still didn’t have all his strength back.

“It’s fine. Rest for now. I will deal with whatever is going to happen.” She replied reassuringly.

The patron spirit of water materialised her form, shimmering like liquid moonlight. The long, flowing hair cascades down like streams of silvery water. Her eyes, the colour of the deep ocean depths, radiate a fierce determination. With every movement, droplets of water seem to dance around her, creating an aura of fluid grace.

Her presence is charged with anger and resentment, as if the very essence of the room shrinks back from the memory of the demon that once tainted it. The water spirit's ethereal voice resonates, carrying the weight of countless whispered currents, as she vocalises her indignation at the former malevolent inhabitant. Each word she utters forms ripples in the air, a visual representation of her emotional turmoil.

She floated above the ground, her movements mirror the ebb and flow of the tides, a reminder of her natural dominion over water. Her anger transformed the room into a battleground of conflicting energies. The echoes of her oceanic wrath clashed with the lingering traces of the demonic presence. And in that moment, her determination to cleanse and purify the space became a powerful testament to the potency of her elemental rage.

“What have you done?!” the spirit forcefully questioned.

“I did what I had to do.” The hero of earth answered simply.

Aquara traced her watery eyes around the room. Her sight ended upon Peter. The boy whom she named champion of the ocean. When the demonic poison struck him down. She wept, knowing he would fall. He would not be the first to be slain in such a way. Yet even with passaging so much time, she hadn't cured this affliction.

Demonic forces were anathema to her very being and even the magic of this world. Only truly archaic methods used by wizards could even touch the infernal realm. Unknown to most, the wizards were fools. Their powers did not drag the damned creatures from their home. It merely constructed a doorway so they can pass through and infect the world.

This act was heresy, not by her own temple. Her brother Pyrus, of the eternal flame, saw demons as the highest of heretical beings. They polluted the power of fire with their sickly energy. Therefore, he despised them most of all. Aquara, she cared little for demons. While her prejudice was not as great as her brothers. She would not hesitate to destroy such beings.

“You summoned a demon into this world. That is heresy, especially performed by a champion of the spirits.” Lecturing the mortal, she seemed more disappointed than angry, fearful rather than furious.

“He was dying, you two-bit water god!” Jasmine shot back, far angrier than she had ever been.

“I did what had to be done. You and your spiritual trinity had no solution. So, I did some out of the box thinking. As you can see, he lives.” Gesturing to the confused Peter, she unveils the fruits of her action.

Aquara wanted to shoot back, to give into the rising anger. But something kept in her check. It wasn’t the words of this mortal, neither her own self-control. It was fear, a kind of fear that even someone as powerful as she could feel. Deciding, our hand outstretched towards Peter. With the flick of her watery wrist, Peter glowed. The young man responded by muttering coolly under his breath.

“This act does not leave this room. Do you understand me?”

Jasmine, picking up on the cues, realised what the water spirit was getting at. She nodded in affirmation, just as her gaze shifted to the glowing Peter. Noticing the gaze, Aquara quickly explained.

“The taint of the infernal is being smothered by my grace. Not even my siblings will sense it. Ensure they don’t.”

Agreeing to those terms, Jasmine didn’t want to further upset the angry water spirit. Still, she needed her help for another bit of subterfuge.

“Can you do that again with Lord Anthos?”

“Don’t tell me you sent that wretched demon to the bedside of the warden?” She asked, exhausted and thoroughly annoyed.

“Maybe.” She answered with a single word.

It was a yes, and prompted Aquara to sigh heavily.

“I will be back, my dear Peter. Rest easy, okay?” She said with words far kinder than before.

“Sure thing, my watery goddess.”

With that, Aquara faded away, sinking into the floor. Now only two left in the room, Jasmine turned to Peter.

“Okay, here is the situation. Heretical methods healed you, so we are going to have to lie to many people.”

Tilting his head, he pondered for a moment before shrugging.

“Sure thing, boss lady.” Giving a salute, he accepted the situation as it was.

“Do you know where my game is?”

The question just came out, but Jasmine sighed at the personality of this youngster. Sometimes she noticed how immature people were, even though they were closer in age.

“A demon brought you back from near death and your priority is your game?” she asked, less a question and more an accusation.

“I didn’t choose the gamers' life; the life chose me.” His answer was the same as always.

“Wait a second, brought back from near death by a demon. Does that mean a demon cursed me with its dark powers? Is my path as a dark hero all but assured.” Emphasizing his words with a flamboyant flourish of his hands.

Jasmine’s face fell into her own, embarrassed by this boy. Despite that, a faint trace of a smile lingered only for a moment.