Ilvec stared at the rabbit in front of him. “Isn’t there any other way?”

Nim glared at the boy. Tapping into the maelstrom of entropy required sacrifice. He had already compromised his standards by using animals instead of humans — but the boy was still hesitant.

“There is no other way.”

“Then, no,” the boy replied, letting the knife in his hand drop to the ground.

If it were any other human, the demon would have drawn blood or worse. However, the boy was his bridge to the Great One — and he was expected to make the boy grow in power.

Death was the easiest and fastest way to foment chaos. Removing a life from the world left a void — a void that could be felt and harnessed. Some required the sacrifice of dozens, even hundreds, to connect to the void — while a chosen few, like the Scourge, required none.

Nim was at a loss. How did the Great One expect him to teach the boy? Coercion? Torture? He had a feeling the Scourge would frown upon those methods. He was a manipulative demon lord, not a forceful one.

The matrix given to the boy did not harness mana. Instead, it let it run rampant. Most wizards would be lucky to survive a year or two using magic in such a way — the uncontrolled mana wreaking havoc to their minds and bodies.

Why would the Scourge do that? Did he intend for the boy to burn bright and die off in a year or two? Nim bared his fangs — feeling it was a challenge for him to overcome if he wanted to witness the coming glory of the Great One.

The entity of the earth had made its allegiance — or subservience — clear by opening a chasm that replicated the most basic of hells. Even now, there were people making pilgrimage to the site — bringing their children or loved ones to see the wonders of the coming future.

Was he to do the same with the boy?

The boy needed to live, that was clear enough — but not letting him grow in power was out of the question. The Great One expected great things from his those who served him. He needed to train the boy without risking his life.

The demon pulled a dull gray coin from the air. It was of little value and the civilization that used it had long passed from the world. One side held the visage of a ram and the other side held a wolf. Nim would have preferred to train the boy properly — through blood and death. Unfortunately, he would have to train the boy the way humans did their mages.

“Take the coin.”

Ilvec hesitantly stretched out his arm to take the coin, as if fearing it would hurt him. Seeing he was fine, he began inspecting the coin — turning it twice to see both sides. The boy turned to him, suspecting something devious.

“It’s just a coin,” Nim hissed. “Flip it and try to guess what side it lands on while it’s spinning. Don’t stop until you get it right seven straight times.”

If the boy would not create chaos, then he could at least sense it. Wizard parents taught their younglings magic by making them first sense mana — he was doing the same thing to the boy but with chaos.

“Wolf,” Ilvec cried as he spun the coin into the air.

Nim frowned. The boy didn’t even attempt to sense the forces at work — just picking a side at the onset. He was about to scold the boy but the coin landed with the wolf head on top as if mocking him.

“Again.”

Ilvec shrugged as he tossed the coin once more. “Wolf.”

The invisible demon closed his eyes to sense the use of magic. It was highly unlikely, unless the boy could slow down time to see which side the coin would land on and then influence it with a bit of force magic.

There was none — but still the coin landed with the wolf head glaring at him.

Four more tosses and four more wolf heads — with the boy calling them correctly.

Nim took back the coin, giving it a few tosses to see if it was rigged. After a dozen tosses, the odds were split seven to five — with the ram side having the edge. There was nothing wrong with the coin — maybe the boy was just lucky.

“Call it,” he turned to the boy as he tossed the coin into the air.

“Wolf,” Ilvec grinned, but his smile turned to a look of determination as the coin neared the ground.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Ram,” Nim picked up the coin, surprised the boy guessed incorrectly. “But you knew that when the coin was still spinning.”

The boy nodded. “I’m good with coins.”

The demon stared at the coin in his hand. His task might not be so difficult. The Great One must have seen a potential that he had missed — it was his mistake to doubt him.

“Start from the beginning.”

***

Reef stared at the man before him. He had all the trappings of an assassin — the hooded cloak, the red cloth that covered half his face, the knives strapped into his leather armor, even his name spoke assassin. The man made no effort to conceal his trade — it even seemed he was trying a bit too hard to look the part.

He handed the man a vial of golden liquid. It served him well in the forest. A drop or two would drive nearby beasts wild, chasing after him with reckless abandon.

“How did things go?” Sacher asked as he caressed the golden vial before putting it away. “Is there really a hydra in the forest?”

“Two, actually,” Reef replied. “One had a lair in the swamp — but it was too timid to leave.”

There were sightings of a hydra in the forest, but he didn’t think they were real. An imaginative adventurer could mistake a den of vipers for a single creature — and the retelling of his story could exaggerate the proportions of the alleged creature. To think that there were two of them.

“Interesting,” the assassin smiled in a serpentine manner. “Can the other one be used against the Scourge? And what of the other beasts?”

“The one in the forest can be led,” he answered. “I’ll need two dozen men to lure out the others. They’ll need to follow specific timing and routes so that the beasts don’t run into each other.”

Reef took out a rough sketch of the trails inside the Great Forest of Dun. It noted where to find the beasts, how fast they were, and what trails to follow in leading them outside. He died a handful of times to get the information — and each death was very uncomfortable.

“You’ve had a lot of time in your hands,” Sacher admired the sketch. “This is quite detailed.” He rolled up the sketch and put it away somewhere on his desk. “I’ll get you the men tomorrow. Take a few practice runs to make sure none of them foul up the plan. Some of my contacts will be arriving in a couple of days to provide steel and firepower.”

“All this for the Scourge?” he asked.

Reef had an inkling the wizard was formidable — especially after his visit to the Corner Shop™. However, the assassin’s preparations seemed excessive. The beast horde they would be drawing would be enough to level a small city — or any city without proper fortifications. The Scourge’s shop had a fence and nothing more.

“All this for the Scourge,” Sacher answered, his face resolute and vindictive.

“There is one complication,” Reef added. “A variable that I came upon.”

“Is it the chasm of hellfire?” the assassin scoffed. “My spies saw you entering the wizard’s domain. They also saw the look of shock on your face as you left. Are you sure you’re the right man for the job?”

“But the chasm—“

“Tricks and tomfoolery,” Sacher spoke with a deriding tone. “Families are taking their kids to see the spectacle. Couples are turning up to enjoy dinner by the fire. It’s no portal to hell — just some gimmick by the wizard to appear more threatening.”

Reef frowned. It didn’t seem so — and the assassin already deemed the Scourge as a threat that required a certain level of overkill.

He was pretty sure he was missing something — he just couldn’t figure out what.

***

Sebas stared disapprovingly at the Corner Shop’s new visitors. The fiery chasm had become their latest attraction. Now, there were tables and chairs lined up around it.

The chasm was a deathtrap. One false step and someone could end up falling into the fiery pit. He shook his head. They already had a couple of incidents. A girl had leaned in too far — luckily, her clothes were snagged by rocks. A diner, who had a little too much to drink, fell into the chasm — only to land in an outcrop that he was sure wasn’t there the past days.

He watched as some of the more enterprising villagers served the diners with venison and fresh vegetables. They were serving meals for two silvers each, and pitchers of wine for three. Diners were provided meter-long skewers for an extra fee— secured and tied, of course — so they could cook pieces of meat over the fiery chasm.

Of course, stooping low while holding a metal rod was a recipe for disaster. Their guests weren’t even harnessed to something — and most would balk at the thought and probably refuse.

The whole dining thing was strangely popular. Adventurers were lining up for tables and they were having more than four dozen guests a night. While the villagers weren’t raking in big money — it was more than enough to get by, especially when they could rent golems to tend to the fields.

At least their nightly venture didn’t conflict with the Corner Shop™ since they opened after sundown. Still, Sebas was concerned for safety reasons. They were lucky the first couple of times — but the third accident could prove fatal.

His master was too busy with research, turning in before the sun came down. He was blissfully unaware of what was happening outside his home. Even if he was — he would probably encourage the villagers, streamline their operation, and take a cut of their earnings.

He watched two of their guests leave, heading towards the smaller snails. They were even ferrying people to the city?! The two stood on a platform hanging from the shell of their chosen snail. He assumed one of the farmhands was telling the snail where to go. The boy got a piece of silver for his efforts.

There was probably another one of the snails near the Bountiful. Most of their guests didn’t look like they walked two hours just to have dinner by the chasm — though there were a handful who came in horses. He could imagine one of the farmhands offering people a trip to the chasm and dinner for a fee — harassing adventurers and townspeople alike.

Even Shelby was there, curious about what was happening. The snail was probably the reason no one had died the previous times — but what if she wasn’t there? What if the boys urged her to ferry some of their guests — like a premium ride for a gold or two.

Sebas shook his head, grinning at the irony. The Corner Shop’s sign bore the hammer for their hell-forged weapons and the scythe for the Scourge’s brand. Hammer and scythe. A strange coincidence — but not a fitting one since they were going full-on capitalistic.