Some days were dull and monotonous and some days were filled with excitement and danger. Sebas found it difficult to categorize the one he was having now — especially after the last couple of weeks.

Two customers almost ran into each other as they entered the shop. The first was a woman who seemed to be of noble lineage — or at least had the trappings of one. The second was a man who did his best to appear as a businessman. He was a bit too garish to be authentic.

Sebas sighed.

The first was an assassin who relished fear. The second was an assassin who relished pain.

They didn’t seem to know each other — both of them were guarded of the other’s presence.

At least they came together. All the mess would happen in one day and the clean-up would be easier.

He turned to the window to check for Shelby. The two visitors seemed knowledgeable at their craft and the mana in their bodies were nothing to scoff at.

Sebas counted at least seven magical items on the two — three of them quite potent.

“Welcome to the Corner Shop™. How can I serve you?”

The two glared at each other for a while before the woman stomped to the counter, blocking the man’s way.

“A nice shop. Quaint — but nice.” the woman said as she looked around. “Too bad it attracts unsavory individuals.”

The man reflexively turned to the woman but stopped, realizing where he was.

Quick reactions and adequate control. The man was no diplomat, but his movements and the way he stopped it proved he could strike as fast as a coiled snake.

“The healing drops and the strange ones… the Lifesavers™,” the woman’s eyes glinted. “I want them.”

“The healing drops are 30 gold each. You’ll need to give a vial of blood for us to make you a Lifesaver™.

The woman paused, seemingly taken aback by the talk of giving blood.

“Bah! If talk of blood gets to you — then get out of the store.”

The man moved toward the counter — all but shoving the woman aside as he did so.

“I want weapons, shopkeep,” he demanded. “I heard you have dwarven-forged swords in this place.”

“Yes we do,” Sebas turned to the man. While the woman seemed intent on the items, this one was more intent on him.

“We mostly have swords that our dwarven weaponsmith made,” Sebas walked towards the display of weapons, taking one sword. “This is from our hell-forged collection. As you can see, the weapon has a fine edge that could cut through flesh —“

“Wait — wait. Hell-forged?”

“The dwarf used the fires of hell to make them. He said hell-forged was more marketable than dwarven-forged — or do I have that backward?”

Sebas stooped behind the counter to bring up a document.

“Here’s a stamp of veracity from Duke Cedric himself, attesting to the truthfulness of our claims.”

The man seemed dumbfounded — both by the claim and the fact that their shop would have it certified by the Duke himself.

“The swords are impervious to fire — even dragonfire,” Sebas continued, even if he thought buying a sword was not the man’s true goal. At least he seemed interested. He could probably turn things around and get him to actually buy one.

“Forged in hell, you say?”

“Certified.”

“Does it come with any drawbacks?” the woman interrupted. “Like possession, turning into a demon, or getting sent to hell?”

Sebas smiled. It seemed certain circles found the thought of having hell-forged weapons attractive — notably assassins.

“None whatsoever,” Sebas answered. “We also do custom enchantments in case you want your foes to perish by fire, cold, electricity, poison, disease, hunger, exhaustion, or suicide.”

“You have a weapon that can make someone die by suicide?”

The two assassins almost blurted out the same words at the same time.

“Yes,” Sebas frowned. “But you’ll need to register them with the city. The Duke wasn’t really fond of them — saying they were vile or something.”

“What about that dagger?” the man seemed frozen as he pointed hungrily.

Sebas cursed under his breath. He kept taking down that dagger, but his master probably put it back on display.

“Don’t mind the dagger — the master only forged it out of boredom,” he explained. “They may not seem like it, but our hell-forged weapons are much more powerful than that.”

Sebas felt the air getting heavy as he explained. At first, he thought it was the stress of making a sale, then he realized he was getting heavier.

His weight doubled, quadrupled, then multiplied by eight. Sebas could feel himself weighing close to a ton — and he wasn’t happy.

The weight didn’t bother him too much. His body was saturated with mana during his “ritual” — making him stronger and tougher than most men.

Their two guests were different.

Sebas was surprised they stayed standing. Both of them with alarmed looks on their faces as if expecting an attack — even flinching as the butler walked past them.

“Stop it, Shelby! Teach the boys something else. We have customers.”

Gravity slowly returned to normal as Sebas made his way behind the counter.

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“Sorry about that,” he apologized. “Shelby — the snail — likes to play with the boys. Sometimes she forgets there are other people around.

The two turn around, their muscles still fibrillating from the stress.

Sebas noted that they displayed concern rather than shock at seeing the gargantuan snail. He was thankful for the show of power, but he doubted if it was intentional. Surely, the snail wasn’t that perceptive — it was just a snail, after all.

“I want to schedule a meeting,” the woman proposed, “to talk about the drops and the Lifesavers™. For now, I want one of those swords.”

“I’ll have two,” the man followed.

“The swords are 800 gold each,” Sebas smiled. They were selling the swords for 500 gold, but who were they to know. “I’ll add four drops for free with your orders since the two of you were kind enough to forgive our lovable snail.”

He was going through the motions of packaging the weapons when he suddenly recalled something important.

“As for the city of Bountiful’s decree, I am required to inform you that the healing drops can be taken oral—ly,” Sebas lingered on the word to make sure the two understood, “and not just shoved into one’s behind.”

“Wait — so you can shove them into your behind?”

***

Amidst the cacophony of voices in his head — two were repeatedly chanting his name. One was Elmindine, his demoness dinner date. The other was Baelneroth, a minotaur-like demon lord — quite popular with the cults due to his devil-may-care attitude regarding the summoning of his servants.

Their chanting felt like a prayer, and what kind of god would he be if he didn’t answer?

“Elmindine, no dinners for now. I’m not at home — Sebas is the one who does the cooking.”

He hoped he could reschedule if the demoness wanted a date. There were wards in Evergreen — but none of them as powerful and precise as the ones in his dining room.

“I’m just doing this as a favor for Bael, dear wizard,” Elin explained. “Though I expect another feast in two months — this time, with adequate entertainment.”

“Got it, got it.”

Jeremy tuned out the demoness to focus on his actual supplicant. Baelneroth was the one asking for him — oh, how the tables have turned.

“Demon lord Baelneroth, how can I be of service.”

“I saw you in that realm, wizard,” he growled. “That place was my son’s — his kind wiped out by that beast that hides itself in smoke.”

“So?”

“Bring me the beast so that I may avenge my son and clear the insult to my name.”

Jeremy frowned. This one didn’t seem to know how transactions worked. He kept his metaphysical eyes trained on the demon, waiting for it to offer more.

“Bring me the beast or else I would —“

Jeremy cut off the connection, irritated by the ignorance displayed. There were rules when transacting with evil forces — threats were usually frowned upon. If the demon wanted to talk more, it would have to go through other channels.

He went about his day, making himself presentable before eating breakfast. He would probably have to take to the field again — even as the wizards insisted that he joined them.

He was in the middle of tying his shoes when a familiar voice called to him.

“Jeremy? Jeremy? Wizard? Scourge?”

Elmindine again — Jeremy hoped she managed to get herself another favor.

“Yes, Elin?”

“A favor for the beast,” She piped — amusement clear in her voice. “Those were Bael’s words.”

Jeremy paused, thinking what it meant to have the favor of a demon lord — or at least one favor.

“The favors are transferable to any of his minions that you might summon or encounter.”

He wanted to thank Elin but her presence dwindled as if she didn’t want to be there once she was finished with her task.

Baelneroth’s proposal had little merit. Jeremy didn’t need anything from the demon — and Bael’s servants had a reputation of being horrible laborers. It was a wonder why cultists kept using them.

Still, the demon’s proposal got him thinking.

If he could find a way to bring cloud of teeth or Cloudy to Baelneroth, he would have in his possession — one exceptional piece of real estate.

Bael could probably find a way to enter it once he had Cloudy in his grasp. The demon was more likely interested in expanding his dominion rather than avenging his son — if that was even true.

Oh, the things he could do with a hell of his own — especially one with a two hours to ten minutes time dilation!

Holy Hell!

A whole day in that realm was merely two hours in the material!

He could make it a training or manufacturing zone — perhaps even charge for long vacations!

Jeremy calmed his thoughts.

First, he would have to find a way to prevent Bael from finding it or perhaps block his attempts to cross. It would be a difficult task — but the demon lord didn’t exactly give him a timetable.

He would only go for Cloudy once he knew how to seal an entire hellscape.

Jeremy laughed.

He didn’t think he would be a ruler of hell so soon.

***

Shelby watched as the two softies left the Corner Shop™. One felt like one of their nightly visitors. The other she just didn’t like.

She made the earth pull harder to make them leave — especially the female.

The Sebas was growing close to the Min lady — another female that was clearly interested in him would complicate things.

She hoped the house being built by the fields would be done soon — so the Sebas and the Min could stay there together and leave the master alone.

Who shared a house? Houses were meant for one person — but the Sebas insisted on staying in the master’s.

She couldn’t fathom sharing her home with another — not even her master. That was just improper — not to mention stifling.

She hunkered into her shell and into her home.

It was cramped as it was. It only took her a few hours to reach the places she was familiar with, now that she was faster.

There was a warm pool of lava, the room she kept her gems in, a garden of tasty plants, a dark cave where she put dead animals so that mushrooms would grow, and a place with pretty colors.

She avoided the other rooms. One made her weightless, another had a pool of fierce biting fish, and there was one room that was just long.

She could probably explore more rooms if she wanted to — but she didn’t want to get lost and stay too long away from her master.

Shelby sighed.

Her master deserved a bigger home — not the one he shared with the Sebas.

***

* The First Dagger

* Enchantment +21to attack (plus 105 percent higher chances of hitting), +210 percent damage.

* Base damage 0, critical 1 (resist to negate damage)

* Description: The dagger was the first weapon forged by the Scourge. It lacks any kind of edge making it quite ineffective against almost everything. However, it should be effective against creatures in an ethereal state.