Jeremy struggled in weighing the pros and cons of acquiring a hellscape of his own. On one side was having to deal with Cloudy and shielding the plane from other demons — which would most likely provoke the wrath of Baelneroth. On the other side — he would have an entire plane all to himself.

Sure, it was a lifeless plane — but that could be taken as a positive. It also dilated time so that

He could probably wiggle out a favor from the demon lord before he noticed Cloudy’s plane was protected.

Like everything in life, the endeavor involved risks — mostly limited to death or dismemberment. Was it worth it?

He struggled with the question while teaching his unwanted apprentices a few simple spells. They were a diverse group of mages. Most of them preferred the more flashy fire spells — but only a couple managed to tap into hellfire. He was surprised when one of them attempted his chiropteran horror spell and transformed himself into a man-sized bat. Sadly, it was an improvement on his looks.

None of them could grasp his life ward. That disappointed him to no end. He thought that it was probably the most important spell he could teach them — it was certainly the one he found ultimately essential for daily life.

Jeremy allowed his mind to drift back to Cloudy while a part of himself continued his lectures.

The entity was no simple problem. It wiped out an entire plane of demons in a matter of centuries — perhaps even shorter than that. No demon lord laid claim to the empty plane. It either had no value — or taking it would weaken their armies to the point that they would be vulnerable to their rivals and enemies.

He was no demon lord. He neither had the resources nor the multitude of demons to throw at the entity. What he did have was knowledge — elven books that detailed the events prior to Cloudy’s banishment as well as its aftermath.

Gavroth the Devourer? What a silly name.

Elves had a thing for giving their enemies fancy-sounding names. They probably didn’t ask Cloudy what its real name was — not that it could answer. It was a thing of hunger. There was no malice in its actions, just an instinct to devour to survive and grow.

It would probably weaken to more manageable levels if it was left alone for two or three centuries. Then again, the beast had been recently fed — by his hand nonetheless.

Jeremy had tried visiting it the past few days to see if he could figure it out. He was sure the cloud of smoke surrounding its body came from another plane — which meant Cloudy was a little bit of a conduit like himself.

He scrapped his idea of summoning a simulacrum and opening its conduit to hell to trap Cloudy. Putting an open gate within another could rip the entire plane apart — or at least make it unstable.

Speaking of unstable — his attention was drawn to one of the apprentices. He had an imp for a familiar — one of Malachin’s from the look of it. The creature was cloaking itself and glaring at him with its protruding eyes.

He was tempted to dismiss it. Sending the thing back to where it came from was simplicity itself — but he decided to stay his hand. Getting an imp for a familiar was quite rare. It either involved a good amount of luck — or a handful of human sacrifices. He doubted the twelve-year-old boy had the nerve or the ability to capture and torture five people — more so keep it secret — so it must have been luck.

Surprisingly, the boy with the imp wasn’t one of the two who could summon hellfire. He barely had the basics and he was one of the slower learners. Either the imp was a bad tutor, or it was deliberately hindering his progress.

“Boy, come here,” he commanded. There were perks to being a teacher — blind obedience from his students was one of them. “Show me your spell matrices — never mind the words.”

The young apprentice extended his left hand and produced a glowing circle of mana. It had markings similar to a pentacle — an inverted star prominent in its design.

“Did your imp have anything to do with your spell matrix?”

“No, Mister Scourge,” he answered. “I thought about the matrix myself — even before I summoned the imp.”

Jeremy shook his head. The use of pentagrams in magic was common knowledge, but very few wizards would incorporate them in their matrices.

“Your matrix limits you, boy,” he explained. “What was your name again?”

“Ilvec,” the boy bowed his head in shame or disappointment.

“Didn’t your familiar even teach you how to make a proper matrix?” Jeremy turned to the imp. It seemed surprised at being seen, even hiding itself behind Ilvec. “I could understand a frog or a cat not having any knowledge about spells — but your invisible imp should have told you the minute it saw you casting.”

“But I made my matrix the way wizards were supposed to make it,” Ilvec protested, a bit confused. “The inverted star should make my spells more powerful.”

“Pentagrams are for sealing,” Jeremy explained as he conjured a spell matrix on the ground. He grabbed the imp with a sudden dart of his hand and placed the struggling demon within the circle.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“Note how your pet is trapped within,” he suggested. “A pentagram does the same thing in a matrix. It will contain and hinder mana — preventing your spells from activating. If you want to use a pentagram, make sure the points of your star extend beyond the circle. Your spells will be more turbulent and chaotic — but they would also be a bit more powerful.”

Ilvec nodded — conjuring his matrix. He was casting a fairly simple spell — a flame projectile from the looks of it. Jeremy turned to the other students who were clamoring for him to check their spell matrices in turn.

“By the way,” he reminded Ilvec without even turning. “There might be explosions if you can’t control the raging mana.”

A loud bang followed his warning — followed by the scent of burned hair.

Jeremy shrugged. He didn’t care if his warning might have made the boy lose his concentration. If he wanted to use altered pentagrams, he better be used to a few explosions now and again.

The other apprentices had proper matrices — allowing him to drift back to his plans of becoming a demon lord an owner of a hellscape.

Protecting the plane would be more difficult than getting rid of Cloudy. He also had very little time to place his measures in place once he got rid of the entity.

How did demon lords even find hells?

Jeremy could travel to any known hell through his connection to its denizens. The conduit to multiple hells in his soul probably made him the foremost expert in netherworld travel. He had anchors to latch on to in every plane, allowing him to guide his portals to where he wanted.

But there shouldn’t have been one in Happenstance or Hell number 1!

Happenstance was the first hell he visited. At first, he wasn’t even sure he managed to get to hell — or a hell. There were no demons, no fire, and no screaming. He later learned that fire in some hells was optional — but the demons and screaming were not.

He wondered what pulled him to such a dreary place. There were no demons for him to use as an anchor — or was he mistaken? He tried remembering what drew him to the plane in the first place — but the casting was too far off and he had opened thousands of portals since then.

There was one way to find out. Fortunately, he was down to the last apprentice. She showed him her matrix, and he offered a few tweaks in line with what she wanted to achieve. Spells tinged in blue — it was a strange request, but was fairly easy to do.

He guessed the young apprentice wanted to distinguish herself from the others — but what she was really doing was making it easier for other wizards to trace her actions.

Blue fireball? Blue water? All evidence would point to Neira — or whatever her name was.

Jeremy finished his lecture, promising more in a few days. He planned on getting the elven sorcerer to teach a class or two — just to make the apprentices see the folly of going the adventurer route.

Instead of heading towards his house, he walked a bit towards the woods. He remembered Warden telling him about a handful of spies hiding there, but it seemed like the rantings of an overly-cautious — even irrational — young man.

Tracing his anchor to Happenstance might have been difficult a few weeks ago — but his father’s gift made things easier. The skull mask amplified psychic projection and reception. It also kept his head warm when it was cold.

He slipped the mask on top of his head down to his face and thought of Hell number 1. There was a reason it was his first hellish destination — he only had to figure out the anchor.

Swirling darkness and hellfire appeared in front of him as Jeremy summoned a portal. He could swear he heard a scream or two — which was strange. He usually heard the screaming after he crossed the portal — sometimes, from the very people he crossed with.

He focused on the anchor and he was hit with a wave of emotions. Mostly desperation, frustration, fear, and insanity. Well, insanity wasn’t technically an emotion — but Jeremy easily understood that his anchor was undoubtedly insane.

Baelneroth wasn’t lying. The lone demon in Happenstance could pass for his son — though any minotaur could pass for any other minotaur’s son.

The minotaur was there yet not there. It existed in the plane — but at the same time, it did not. He remembered Sebas saying something about frequent tides or frequent seas. All he managed to get from it were that some beings existed in different waves and that those waves needed to overlap for beings of different waves to interact with one another.

It was confusing and it didn’t help with anything — until now, it seemed.

Jeremy smiled. All he had to do was get rid of the anchor and the plane was secure. His only problem now was getting rid of Cloudy.

***

Nizimdelegauntrichiixuldon stared at the empty barn. The mage he contracted had apparently forgotten about him. He couldn’t even feel their connection because of the perfect pentagram that held him in place.

How could such a thing happen? How could a demon lord exist in a place like this? How long would it take for the pentagram to dissipate?

At first, he was unsure of the strange wizard’s identity. He heard the name Scourge from the other apprentices. He thought the name was borne of arrogance — a paltry wizard would never be worthy of such a title.

Then he beheld his majesty.

The Scourge held his illusions well. It was only when he was in his hands that he felt the overwhelming malevolence that flowed from him. He was like a torrent of infernal power — a match for three demon lords, maybe more.

Nizim sought to lead the boy Ilvec down a demonic path by letting him flounder and then guide him to the darker arts. Now he was torn.

The Scourge was leading the boy to a path of destruction. The matrix he allowed the boy to use was one of risk and suffering. It would give him power — but mortal men were not meant to harness such uncontrolled and violent mana.

Ilvec would burn himself within a year — unable to control the torrential mana that was now part of his spellcasting. The boy’s death would be the end of Nizim’s stay in the material world — as well as his interactions with the Scourge.

The boy must live. He would make sure of it. He would teach the boy to control his power and become the strongest apprentice the Scourge could want. It might take years — even decades — but no effort was too small if it meant being a part of the work of one such demon lord.