Humans were strange creatures. When confronted by danger, they would huddle in their castles or villages with the strong protecting the weak. It made little sense to Nim.

The invisible demon flew beside his charge, a boy just past his tenth year. They were not escaping the horde of beasts attacking the Scourge’s demesne — he was merely taking the boy out for a walk to test his mettle.

He could understand the value of protecting the weak — the Scourge made him look after a boy that in all appearances seemed unremarkable. What he didn’t understand was the huddling.

Going on the defensive was not something demons did. In the netherworld, castles were a statement of power or prisons for the display of humbled enemies. Demons would meet their opponents in the open — for there were no weaklings to protect — or there were, but they were not worth protecting.

The Scourge’s attendant proved he was more human than demon, opting to huddle and protect instead of taking the battle to the enemy. Why did the Great One choose a scion of Baelneroth as a servant when other demons could have provided more suitable options?

Nim snarled. He could see a trail of dust in the distance and his infernal senses could detect the faint sounds of galloping horses. Finally, their prey was nearing.

He stared at the boy walking by his side. Teaching the boy was difficult, but he had managed. Ilvec’s mastery over chaos grew day by day. The boy could now twist the patterns of fate — wreaking havoc where there was order. Soon he would be able to unravel the strands of order itself.

“Would this be enough?” the boy held up a swirling mass of darkness. The gravity of what was happening in his home seemed lost to him. He looked irritated — but that was because he knew what they would be facing.

Nim’s infernal eyes could see swirls of vibrant color underneath the darkness — forces that were struggling to break free of their containment.

“That would suffice,” he hissed.

“I really don’t like spiders,” the boy complained. “They get inside your shoes and their bites are really painful.”

The demon rolled his eyes. Mundane spiders would not compare to the ones they would be facing. “These spiders are bigger. Deadlier,” he explained. “They’re as big as a horse and their legs have barbs that could rip the flesh off your bones.”

“That’s fine then,” the boy smirked. “As long as they can’t crawl up my nose.”

Nim glared at Ilvec — not sure if he was joking or telling the truth. The boy had a tendency to spout nonsense, even appearing a bit simple in front of his peers. The demon knew better. Mastering chaos required sheer strength of will — a common wizard would come undone within months if his will was lacking.

Too bad the boy would not consider the path of blood and darkness — but that in itself was also a sign of his strong will.

“We’ll see the spiders once we reach the top of the hill,” Nim assured the boy. Ilvec didn’t want to leave the Corner Shop™ — wanting to stay with the others to defend his home — but he managed to convince the boy of the importance of their mission.

It took them a couple of minutes to crest the hill. The elevation would allow them to see further and the slope would slow down the galloping horses and the spiders chasing them. It was the ideal spot for their ambush.

“There’s so many of them,” Ilvec whispered, “… so many spiders….”

“How would you take them out?” Nim asked. Now was good a time as ever to play mentor to the boy.

“Rolling waves of fire or a massive ice prison,” Ilvec answered, “but I can’t do all that on my own.”

The demon patiently waited for the boy to think things through. They had plenty of time and the worst thing that could happen was the horde of spiders getting past them unimpeded.

“The spiders are chasing the riders,” Ilvec started. “If we stop the riders, then the spider-horde would have nowhere to go.”

“Stop the riders then,” Nim grinned. To save his home, Ilvec would need to stop the riders. To stop the riders, the boy would need to spill blood.

“You —“ the boy stared at him with a hint of anger underneath his irritation. “I know what you’re doing, demon.”

The boy looked hesitant — this would be the first time he would kill one of his kind. It was a petty weakness shared by all the goodly races of the world — and it felt so satisfying to force the boy into such a situation.

“I will remember this, Nizimdelegauntrichiixuldon.”

Hearing his true name startled the demon. The boy was putting him in his place — letting him know who was in charge.

“This is the most efficient way to save your home and help your friends,” Nim urged, a hint of acid in his voice. “Perhaps the spiders won’t make a difference — or maybe they would tear through your little barn and feast on your little cousins.”

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Ilvec’s eyes turned black. They glowed in their darkness — an ebon shine that marked the ones who touched chaos.

“Two riders, twenty-two spiders, forty-three spiderlings,” the boy’s voice turned cold as he stared blankly into the distance. It was as if another being took possession of his body — something more sinister.

“Direct combat would lead to death. Diverting their path would lead to death.”

Nim watched as the boy created and discarded scenario after scenario in his mind through their bond. The boy’s thoughts were usually shielded from prying — but now, the demon could almost peek into his mind.

Wait — it wasn’t just that. The bastard was drilling into his mind — gleaning his demon psyche for information and experience.

“The riders are carrying something the spiders want — no, something that drives them to a frenzy.,” Ilvec inferred.

“Stop the riders here and the spiders won’t reach your home.”

The boy shook his head. “There must be another way.”

“You can let the spiders pass by,” Nim offered. “A little slaughter will only strengthen the Scourge’s minions — culling the weak from the strong.

“No,” Ilvec answered. “There’s always a way — and if there’s none, I’ll make one.”

The air darkened as the boy gave himself entirely to chaos. His body flickered, unraveling and reconstituting itself several times as chaos took rein — only being checked by his will. He was killing himself in his attempt to master chaos — risking his very existence for his meaningless obstinance.

Nim moved to stop Ilvec — but it was too late. There was nothing he could do to save the boy — it was up to save himself.

The demon watched as parts of the boy’s body disintegrated and reformed, gasping as half his head seemed to shatter only to get drawn in by the boy’s will.

The death of the boy would send him back to the nethers and sever his connection to the Scourge. “You can do it, boy!” he cheered, even as his demonic soul churned in abhorrence. “Think of all the people relying on you!”

“Shut up, demon!” Ilvec’s words boomed. It was as if a myriad of voices was speaking all at once. The boy glared at him, his irritation adding fuel to drive his straining will.

The struggling boy took a step, then another. At first, Nim thought it was throes of pain or a desperate plea of a dying soul. It wasn’t. The boy would strike the air or sweep his arms as if grasping something. The movements were not unlike dancing — but they seemed more martial in their execution.

It was useless. The destruction of the boy’s body continued unabated — even increasing in frequency. Still, the boy persisted, finding strength in the strange movements. Nim could see gaps in the boy’s chest and arms — hollowed out portions of his body filled by a void of blackness.

It wouldn’t be long.

The demon’s eyes were drawn to the distance. The spiders would be arriving at the hill in five minutes or so. Was this what the boy was planning? He would annihilate the beasts — riders and all — and himself in the process?

Took a step back. Death in the material was insignificant. His current body was one made from the ether — a product of his summoning. However, the forces the boy was wielding were unfathomable — and chaos had a way of touching the soul.

The boy collapsed. Half of his body was consumed by the swirling void of chaos. The ground around him was both an amalgamation and segregation of its components. Magma and ice erupted from the ground, even as flickering lightning dotted the air along with floating rocks and other debris.

A cough alerted him to the boy’s survival. Ilvec was slowly picking himself up from the ground, adjusting his torn robe to cover his body — or what was left of it.

A diagonal line bisected the boy, starting from his right shoulder and coming down to his left leg. Everything above the line, aside from his face, was a void of black.

Nim paused. There were flickering lights within the void — a seeming cosmos that mimicked a clear night sky. He could sense the boy’s will within the lights — holding back the effects of chaos and keeping him alive.

Ilvec stood up, a strange power coursing through his body — consuming it if left unchecked.

“I don’t need to kill the riders,” he said, his voice taking a tone that was older than his age. “I just need to make them drop what they’re holding.”

The two turned towards the approaching spiders.

“It seems you won’t even have to do that,” Nim chuckled. He had underestimated the effects of chaos, only seeing its effects on the area the boy occupied. All around them, birds were flying haphazardly and even insects seemed to have lost direction.

The two riders were heading in different directions — one of them even heading back to the forest. A couple of spiders were burrowing on the ground, the rest were moving about in random directions, and it seemed like one of them was dancing.

Chaos affected the minds of everything around them — but why was he spared? Nim stared at the boy. Did he unknowingly disperse chaos’ effects on his mind into the creatures around him? It seemed so. His connection to the boy as his familiar protected him from its effects. Hell knew what he would be doing under chaos’ command. Probably climbing a tree or singing a song — something random, something he would not have thought of.

“That was a big risk, boy,” Nim scolded him. He needed to maintain his aura of authority — even in front of the abomination in front of him. “Look at you.”

“This?” Ilvec stared at his left arm. It was like looking at the cosmos — if the cosmos was a beast that threatened to consume your entire being. “I can just cover it up if you bring me a fresh set of robes.”

“What have you become?” Nim whispered, not thinking he would be heard.

“A bit older, I think,” the boy replied.

There was truth in his words — he did seem older, even growing a couple of inches or so.

“I was desperate for help back then,” he explained. “But there was nobody to turn to but myself — so I turned to myself. I called out to the river of fate, finding different versions of me.”

Nim’s eyes widened in understanding.

“Some of them helped. Some of them were forced to help.”

The boy certainly had strange values. He would not kill the riders but he did not hesitate to sacrifice himself — or versions of himself. Was that how he reconstituted his body? He must have destroyed hundreds of them!

“Two thousand and two hundred,” Ilvec replied to his unspoken question. “Strange right? Such an even figure.”

“But they were you?”

“They still are,” the boy replied. “I am the embodiment of every one of them — every one of me.”