The air next to him shifted, and suddenly there was a devil standing among us.

Actually the visual effect was pretty interesting, if underwhelming. It was like a person-shaped slice of empty space suddenly rotated fully around, as if it were a cardboard cutout, and when fully revealed…there she was. Disorienting, but I quickly forgot about that, taking in the sight of the devil.

Ozyraph was…not what I expected. Well, in part; most of her features were classic devil shit, straight out of European mythology. Her skin was a dusky reddish-pink in hue, and she had a pair of backswept horns sprouting from her hairline and curving back over her skull to bracket the severe bun into which her crimson hair was pulled. No, the unexpected part was her attire: the devil wore a sleek, obviously tailored Western-style business suit. Black with gold pinstripes, a black shirt and a slim necktie of solid gold fabric.

And she was carrying a tablet. Not a flat piece of material on which text was engraved, a tablet computer. It was wafer-thin, about the dimensions of an iPad, and while I couldn’t see the screen from my current angle I could see its glow.

The devil took a quick glance around, taking in the sight of all Fallencourt spread around her, including no end of mostly terrified shouting by all the attendant goblins. Her eyes met and held mine for a second—they were unnerving, with vertically slitted pupils an two-toned irises that faded from blood red at the center to gold around the edges, giving them a fiery appearance. Then her gaze slid past me, flicking rapidly over my various allies and lingering for another second on Yoshi. Only then did she turn her full attention to the Goblin King.

“I see we have entirely given up on basic discretion.”

Ozyraph’s voice was a smooth alto, her delivery strikingly reminiscent of quite a few teachers I remembered with no fondness. She had that knack, the ability to convey utterly withering sarcasm without seeming to depart from the normal tones of polite conversation.

“This wasn’t my preferred outcome,” Jadrak replied, shooting me an unpleasantly confident look. “Unfortunately, thanks to the meddling of this fool and his friends, things have spiraled. As per our contract, Ozyraph, I call upon your aid.”

“Oh?” The devil raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain that is wise, King Jadrak?”

“Wise? Perhaps not, but necessary.” He turned back to face me directly, holding my stare while speaking to his demonic ally. “I am invoking the extraordinary circumstances clause of our contract, Ozyraph. Per your agreed obligations, I require you to rid me of… These two humans in particular.” He pointed at me and Yoshi in turn. “The rest, I can handle myself.”

I formed the mental weight of Immolate, ready to deploy; at my side, Yoshi raised his shield, sword at the ready.

“Absolutely not.”

Ozyraph’s brusque reply made us all hesitate. Especially Jadrak; he did an actual double take. The sudden diminishment of his smugness was satisfying as hell, despite my continuing unease about what was happening.

“I—but we have a contract,” the Goblin King protested. “You are obligated to—”

“This contract?” Ozyraph tapped one fingertip against the screen of her tablet twice, flicked it to scroll through something, tapped again, and then held the device down so he could see it. “I’d like to call your attention to paragraph twelve, concerning unacceptable conflicts of interest and hazards to the Devil King’s concerns and those of his servants, to which I am not under any circumstances to be subjected by any other signatory to this agreement. These are not limited to, but specifically enumerate, direct conflict with major faiths or agents of Sanora or Virya, particularly any Hero or Dark Lord. You just attempted to invoke the extraordinary circumstances clause to bring me into physical conflict with both.”

Jadrak suddenly looked like he’d swallowed something a bit too big for his neck. “Oh, but… Surely you didn’t interpret that to—”

“As such, I am invoking the terms of paragraph nineteen, clause five: premature termination of the agreement due to malfeasance by any signatory to said agreement.” She flicked her thumb over the screen, scrolling down to the clause in question. “As you have broken the terms of the contract, all outstanding debts by the offending party will be immediately called in, as detailed in clause nine.”

“Wait!” Jadrak was visibly alarmed now, probably mostly by the prospect of Ozyraph calling in his debts—i.e. his soul—but I suspected all the growling and hissing from many of the onlookers wasn’t helping his poise. I had to figure that to a goblin audience, getting caught breaking the terms of a contract was a bad look, even more so than to most people. “You can’t invoke that! I was merely raising a point of discussion—”

Ozyraph had already been flicking and tapping on her screen, and suddenly the tablet produced Jadrak’s own voice, at a significantly magnified volume.

“I require you to rid me of… These two humans in particular.”

“These were, I believe, your exact words,” she said tonelessly. A proper villain might have hammed this up—I certainly would have—but Ozyraph delivered her lines with the dry evenness of a bureaucrat filling out their fiftieth form of the day.

“Yes, but… I mean, that is clearly contextual and open to interpretation…”

“Not only is that a specific instruction to open hostilities with the Hero and Dark Lord, these are the words you spoke after I gave you the opportunity to retreat from your demand that I intervene. This is not a case of your words being taken out of context, Jadrak. This occurred seconds ago. We are still in the context. You are in breach of contract. I will now, as per my contractual privileges, collect all debts owed, which are specified by the agreement in question as any soul in your possession.”

The wording made me widen my eyes in alarm, and I wasn’t the only one who caught it. Rizz hissed fiercely as she drew in air through her teeth, and Sneppit let out a low groan.

Ozyraph raised the tablet back out of his reach, and finally some expression intruded on her face: just the faintest, disdainful curl of her upper lip.

“Honestly, aren’t you supposed to be some sort of goblin? You really should read the things you sign.”

Jadrak’s poise was finally failing him. The outright jeering that had been withheld when his headquarters abruptly kicked him out had started to rise all around. He was now isolated with his enemies, his supporters had all turned on him, and his omnipotent trump card was not only not helping him but had just delivered what was probably the worst public humiliation a goblin could suffer. Open fear had leaked onto his features now; he cast about rapidly for options, finding no good prospects.

So he latched onto a bad one: me.

“Lord Seiji!” The Goblin King stepped forward and held out one hand toward me. “If anyone can throw back a devil, it’s you. Join—”

Okay, so it wasn’t entirely authentic, but I’m enough of a performer to be able to burst into loud, derisive laughter on command. I am also enough of a performer not to react to distinctly hearing Adelly mutter behind me, “He’s doing it again.”

“You need me,” Jadrak pressed on stubbornly, because it was that or lie down and accept death. “No one else can—”

His voice cut off in a strangled croak; my eyes shifted up to find Ozyraph, her tablet balanced in one hand, the other outstretched with fingers clenched in a grasping motion.

“Excuse me,” she stated crisply. “The Dark Lord is not party to this discussion. As I gather you plan to be disagreeable about this, I may as well commence soul collection with the easiest target.”

It was like the process of her arrival: Jadrak seemed to freeze in place, the last clear sight I had of him his terrified expression, and then he sort of…rotated. Like he had been reduced to two dimensions and then flipped, the Jadrak-shaped piece of scenery behind him revolving into view. And that was it. No hellfire, no flashy effects aside from that one disorienting transition into what I assume must’ve been the Void.

No more Goblin King.

“Did…did we just…win?” Yoshi asked warily.

“By default, but I suppose so,” Ozyraph answered him, already occupied with her tablet again. “Well, it’s results that matter. Now, don’t mind me. I have a bunch of busywork to do, thanks to you lot, but it’ll just take a few minutes and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“What kind of busywork?” Rizz demanded, stepping forward with her polearm leveled aggressively. Rhoka joined her in the same position, silent as usual.

“The only kind I have,” Ozyraph droned, still monotone and poking at her tablet. “My deal with Jadrak was for all souls it was within his power to bestow. Which, in these unusual circumstances, meant quite a few more than just his own.”

I don’t think the issue of Jadrak and his ability to sacrifice his followers’ souls was widely known among them, but the devil’s meaning was obvious enough that everybody caught on. The tenor of the onlookers change; dozens of goblin voices rose in exclamations of anger and sudden fear.

“Just a minute!” Yoshi exclaimed, stepping forward. He still had his shield upraised, as if that was going to help. “Jadrak’s ability to grant his followers’ souls to your contract was a function of their fanatical loyalty. After what everyone just saw, there’s no way you can still collect them.”

Ozyraph spared him a sardonic look before resuming her work. She seemed to be scrolling rapidly through a list of something on her screen, periodically stopping it to pin one item at a time and swipe it to the left.

“Yes, because no one ever regrets the deal they made when it comes time for me to collect. I am entitled to every soul Jadrak could have sacrificed at the moment he broke our contract. Thanks primarily to the Dark Lord, here, that is far fewer than I was hoping; you’ve done an admirable job of sabotaging Jadrak’s interests, Omura Seiji. Looks like I’ll be collecting at most a few dozen rather than several hundred.”

Someone shot her with a spiked ball from a slingshot, followed immediately by another. Both balls froze in midair less than a meter from Ozyraph, then plunked harmlessly to the ground. She gave no outward sign of even noticing.

“You can’t do this!” Yoshi exclaimed, raising his sword.

“Yoshi, no!” Flaethwyn lunged forward and grabbed his arm, physically pulling him backward. “That is a devil! A powerful one! You are not ready for this.” She gave me a grudging look. “Either of you.”

“Why do you even care?” Ozyraph asked, a tone of vague annoyance drifting through her customarily deadpan delivery. “These are people who were so fanatically devoted to a shifty conman with impressive hair they were willing to perish at his whim. They would, by definition, have slaughtered the lot of you minutes ago if they thought they could. It clearly benefits you to have them removed from Kzidnak.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s real easy for you to stand there in your fancy suit and pass judgment on people, when you’ve never had to struggle for anything yourself,” I snorted, swaggering forward.

Ozyraph’s finger ceased moving; her posture did not otherwise change, but her eyes shifted to lock onto mine, and I almost hesitated under the sheer intensity of her stare. Almost. Showtime is showtime, after all.

“People fell for Jadrak’s song and dance because they were desperate, you vicious little parasite. It was bad enough he preyed on their poor circumstances without you coming along and making it worse. Now, I’m willing to be civilized about this. Why don’t we discuss this matter like adults and come to an understanding? You’ve already collected two souls today—one thanks to me, I might add.”

“Oh?” She raised one eyebrow. “You wish to make a deal?”

Everyone’s eyes shifted to stare at me. Shit. No, I did not want to do that.

“I’m just saying,” I replied smoothly, “there’s ample cause for you to be content with a good day’s work, Ozyraph. Time to pack it in.”

“You have no standing to negotiate here, Omura,” she said in a disinterested tone, returning her eyes to the tablet screen and resuming her scrolling and swiping. “I will take what I’m owed, and I have no need to compromise. Subject closed.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” I said quietly. “I did hope we could settle this goblin style, by coming to an agreement. But, if you’re not interested… I got some really good advice from a really smart guy a while back about what I should do if a devil ever interfered in my affairs.”

“Is that a fact.”

I’d been told devils were conflict-averse, that they’d flee from confrontations they could easily win. Well, time to put that to the test.

This one’s for you, Sakin.

I raised one arm and pointed at her.

“Immolate.”

Fire burst across her—on the surface, not from within. In fact, it looked for all the world as if I’d just ignited a covering of invisible oil all over her. The flames whooshed across her body…slowed… And then, as I watched in increasing dismay, reversed.

Ozyraph paused in manipulating her tablet for a moment to fully extend her free arm back toward me; the flames of my Immolate spell surged down it till they coated her hand, then condensed further until she was holding a ball of seething orange fire on her palm.

She bounced it once, idly, finally looking up at me with a wry expression, and it took all my self-control not to frantically retreat. Any second she was gonna hurl that right back at me, the only question was how ugly the results would be. Had she modified it into a more conventional fireball, or was I about to finally find out what that horrible spell felt like?

But no, what she did was far worse.

Ozyraph flicked her fingers contemptuously, and the fire disappeared in a tiny puff of smoke. She resumed poking at her tablet, entirely ignoring me save to speak once, in a tone of utter disinterest.

“Go away, little Dark Lord.”

I could only stand there, my mind a screaming white blank. Well…what the fuck now?

A streak shot past me at waist height, and in the next second Zui had launched herself at the devil, fist-first, brass knuckles in place.

She froze in the air mid-leap, just short of impact. Ozyraph looked up again, frowning in annoyance.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Zui, right? Don’t worry, you were never on the list. Not the original expanded one and definitely not the much abridged final version I am trying to collate right now.”

“You can’t do this!” Zui roared, kicking and thrashing in midair. “You—murdering monster! Haven’t we been through enough? Just leave people alone! They were just trying to survive!”

“Well, they failed,” Ozyraph said with a sigh. “Honestly, all you people are doing is prolonging this. Just let me sort through my list of names, and then you’ll never have to see me again. Me, or the three dozen or so idiots who would’ve gladly murdered you all for trying to help them. You are being ridiculous.”

She took her hand off her tablet again to make a lifting and tossing motion, and Zui came flying back toward us. I barely managed to get into position to catch her, mostly; at most I spared her an undignified impact against the wall, but she slipped out of my attempted grip and landed hard on my foot.

All around us, goblins were shouting fearfully, some trying to flee as if that would help, many just dithering in place, because…how could you run from this? I was hearing an uncomfortable amount of sobbing from multiple directions.

Zui turned to look up at me, naked pleading written across her face. It was the most unmistakable expression of Do something! I’d ever seen.

I tore my gaze away from her to look back at Ozyraph, once again efficiently scrolling through her list of names, pulling aside those about to be harvested.

What could I do? What could I do? This creature had just manhandled us all with contemptuous ease; I’d hit her with my nastiest attack and she’d batted it aside with barely a thought. What else was there? I could try running her over with a truck… But no, I’d already seen the ease with which she shrugged off physical attacks. The increased mass of Truck-kun probably wasn’t going to make a difference. Nor would attempting to stab her.

I’d been in some rough situations since coming to Ephemera, but I’d never felt this physically powerless. Even in my first panicked moments on this hell world, running around an old fortress with bandits on my heels and no weapons or spells to call upon, I’d been able to do something. This was just… Absolute helplessness. This devil was going to do what she came for and all I could do was watch.

Maybe she was right, anyway. Why did I have to fight to save people who’d declared themselves my enemies?

Maybe I should…

Maybe?

There was a gentle touch on my upper back. I turned to see Aster right behind me, her golden eyes compassionate, but firm. She leaned forward and murmured right by my ear.

“A limn is five hundred and twenty-four dhils. A dhil is ninety-six strides. A stride is thirteen ridds, and is defined as the distance of an average male elf’s step.”

Ahh…there it was. Cleansing, purifying rage, a white-hot flame to remind me who I was. I was Lord Seiji, dammit, and I wasn’t taking any more of this stupid planet’s bullshit.

“Oh, Aster,” I whispered. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d die. Quickly. Probably on fire.”

“Yep.” I raised my voice. “Rizz, Gazmo, Sneppit. I need help weaseling out of a contract.”

I had to look away from Zui; the sudden gratitude and hope on her face was just too painful to face directly. The two Judges I’d named exchanged one look, then turned in unison to point at Sneppit.

“Wait, me?” she protested. “You’re the—”

“Our strong suit is making contracts iron-clad and impermeable,” said Rizz. “What’s needed here is the opposite of that.”

“Any job worth doing is worth leaving to an expert,” Gazmo added.

Sneppit goggled at them, then turned to me, visibly aghast.

I broke my usual policy toward goblins and went to one knee, bringing my face down closer to hers to I could speak quietly.

“Look, I know it’s a devil and we’ve all seen how powerful she is. But she also doesn’t want to fight. Fighting won’t help here, anyway. We need brains and words and a mastery of the contract. We need you, Snep. That may be an agent of the Devil King, but you’re Miss motherfucking Sneppit. This is your turf, not hers. Now show this bitch what happens when you fuck around in goblin town.”

Sneppit stared helplessly at me for another second, but then swallowed heavily and nodded once; I could see the steel slowly flowing back into her spine as she took in my encouragement.

I rose and stepped back, clearing the way, and Sneppit strode forward, exhaling heavily once. Ozyraph was still standing there, flicking at her tablet screen and ignoring us. I knew she had to have heard this entire exchange, but the devil seemed supremely unconcerned about our machinations.

Sneppit cleared her throat, her voice cracking only slightly when she addressed the devil. “Excuse me! By established precedent, any contract agreed to by a goblin of Kzidnak is subject to review and approval by a Judge, even if the other party is not native. I would like to invoke—”

“Knock yourself out.”

Ozyraph paused in her work to gesture once, and a glowing panel of blue light materialized in the air in front of Sneppit, causing her to reflexively jerk back. Lines of text were printed neatly across it.

“Touch it with a finger and move up it or down to scroll,” the devil added helpfully. “If you’re planning to challenge me on knowledge of goblin precedent, you are about to learn the taste of disappointment. But please, feel free to waste as much of everyone’s time as you wish. Only one of us is immortal.”

Rizz and Gazmo immediately crowded in behind her, intently studying the contract, which Rizz carefully began to scroll with a fingertip. Sneppit kept one eye on this while already launching into her next attempt.

“All right, then… So, obviously, if this contract is to be considered valid, clearly a Judge signed off on it? I don’t see a signature—”

“That is not and has never been required by precedent,” Ozyraph stated, her thin lips tugging to one side in the tiniest smirk; she still didn’t raise her eyes from the tablet. “A contract is considered binding to all signatories, regardless of a Judge’s approval. A Judge may invalidate it for any of several reasons, but contracts need not be witnessed by one. Try again. If you were serious, you’d start by looking for terms that violate established precedent or imply the contract was coercive or unclear, none of which you will find there.”

“I…um.” I managed not to wince; my trump card so far was about as successful as Jadrak’s had been. I could see Sneppit floundering, see the way fear and uncertainty—two things she was clearly not accustomed to experiencing—were taking their toll on her normal effectiveness. But she was all we had, since no amount of physical or magical force was going to prevail against this devil. “You…all right, apparently you do know your Kzidnak precedents, I see a lot of the standard clauses here… In fact, this borders on too long—”

“To the extent that length and lack of clarity are to be considered grounds for invalidating a contract,” Ozyraph recited without pausing in her swiping, “the inclusion of standard clauses themselves required by precedent are not to be considered in any such calculation. Either of your Judge friends there could have told you that. By all means, though, continue. I will not have it said that the Devil King’s bargains are unfair.”

Sneppit swallowed heavily, again, her eyes darting rapidly across the text as Rizz slowly moved it. “I…so… Th-the stipulation against… That is, the standard section governing…um…”

“Um?” The fact that Ozyraph’s tone remained dry and flat only made her taunting worse, somehow. “When the Dark Lord tagged you in for this, I expected…more. Even Jadrak mentioned your supposed specialty in contract work, Miss Sneppit. Is this the limit of your intelligence?”

Sneppit’s eyes widened and her head snapped up, staring fixedly at Ozyraph.

“Intelligence?” Her voice was a bare whisper. The devil did not respond.

In that moment, though, everything changed. Sneppit’s posture straightened, she put her shoulders back, and all the uncertainty drained from her face in a heartbeat. Her eyes fixed on the devil over the gold rims of her shades, and suddenly her look was that of a shark smelling blood.

Even knowing this was premature, and having no idea what she was about to do, I had the sudden unshakable feeling we’d just won.

“As you seem familiar with goblin precedent, I assume you are acquainted with the truism that you can’t un-ring a bell,” Sneppit said crisply.

Ozyraph shrugged with one shoulder, eyes still on her screen. “That applies in a tiny rarity of situations, given that goblins are not inclined toward jury trials. But sure, it is true that a non-professional adjudicator may be dismissed from their duties and negotiations re-commenced from the beginning if they are exposed to information previously ruled by a Judge to be inadmissible and prejudicial. What of it?”

“Just making sure we’re on the same page. Now then, in the clause governing the rewards to be granted you as the Devil King’s proxy by the signatories Jadrak and Hoy, it is specified that you are authorized to collect only souls and no other reward of any kind from the domain of Kzidnak.”

“And so I am,” Ozyraph agreed.

“Really, are you certain you want to go on record stating that?”

The devil finally glanced up, her eyes narrowing in the first hint of overt suspicion. “It’s a simple fact.”

“Very good, then,” Sneppit said briskly. “As you previously pointed out to Jadrak, it also states in this contract that if either party breaks the terms, the other party is entitled to immediately collect all promises made to them by said contract. Nice touch, making that clause apply in both directions. Really sells the impression you’re not planning to screw over the other party.”

“Thanks, I try.” Ozyraph continued scrolling and flicking, though her flat expression was now marred by a slight frown.

“As such,” Sneppit said, baring her teeth in a vicious grin, “this contract is invalidated due to your unauthorized acquisition of valuable property from Kzidnak, a domain considered by said contract to fall under the authority of its signatory Jadrak a.k.a. the Goblin King. You will therefore immediately cease any collection activities and remove yourself from the domain in question.”

Ozyraph finally stopped manipulating the tablet, raising her eyes to fix Sneppit with a flat stare. “I’ve taken nothing from Kzidnak—nothing of Jadrak’s, and nothing of anyone’s. False accusations have consequences.”

“I will call your attention to clause four, concerning the duties of yourself as designated representative of the Devil King.” Sneppit shouldered Rizz aside, deftly flicking the magical display till the clause in question was centered on the panel of light Ozyraph had conjured. “You went out of your way to specify, in writing, that in this matter you are functioning only as the Devil King’s agent. Anything collected as a result of this contract or your activities in pursuit of its execution are to be delivered directly to him, with nothing withheld by you personally.”

Ozyraph’s crimson-gold eyes narrowed to slits. “What of it?”

Sneppit half-turned to point dramatically behind her at me. “Here stand the Dark Lord and the Hero. As a result of your collection activities, you have come into possession of intelligence. You now know their location, the composition of their respective parties, and most importantly, the fact that they are working together. The value of this knowledge cannot be overstated; empires would go to war to learn this! As per your sworn duties to the Devil King and your obligations as stated by this contract, you will be required to convey this important information to your master at the earliest opportunity. This contract specifically denies you the right to collect anything of value from Kzidnak other than souls. You, Ozyraph, have stolen crucial military intelligence on behalf of the Devil King, breaking the terms of your agreement and voiding it in its entirety.”

The roar that went up from all sides reminded me of the crowd at a stadium. To goblins, I guess this must’ve been the equivalent of scoring a goal.

“Ridiculous!” Ozyraph spat, now fully lowering the tablet to her side and fixing her full attention on Sneppit. “I’ve taken no affirmative action to acquire any such information—it’s not my fault they were standing here when Jadrak summoned me.”

“But you have agreed to be bound by the terms of goblin precedent in both the creation and the enforcement of said contract!” Sneppit shouted back. “I invite any Judge present to correct me if I am wrong, but according to precedent, one: intellectual property is no less real or subject to precedent and the right of possession than physical property. Two: chance, malfeasance, and acts of the Goddesses may negate culpability for possession of property of any kind if it resulted from them, but not the fact of possession. And three: the value of intellectual property is determined by factors including its use and the parties to whom it is transmitted. In this case, you possess materially valuable knowledge, which you will transmit to the Devil King, both due to your established allegiance and the obligations specified in this contract. Tell me, Ozyraph, what affirmative action can you take that will un-ring that bell?”

The devil clenched both fists, one clutching the tablet against her side. “You insufferable little—”

“You have two options!” Sneppit crowed. “Either you steal valuable political and military secrets from Kzidnak, in clear violation of the terms of this contract—or you refuse to disclose them to the Devil King, in defiance of your loyalties and also in violation of the terms! In short, Ozyraph, you—”

“Don’t say it,” the devil hissed.

“—and by extension, the Devil king, are in—”

“AAAUGH!” Ozyraph howled, clapping her free hand over her eyes.

Sneppit took one giant stride forward, planting her foot as if claiming land, threw one hand forward to point accusingly at the devil, and roared in a voice which boomed from every wall of Fallencourt.

“BREACH OF CONTRACT!”

The entire city dissolved into deafening cheering. Goblins on all sides capered about, laughing, hugging each other and pumping fists in the air, not to mention jeering (perhaps unwisely) at the lone devil who stood like a disgruntled scarecrow in the midst of it all. Ozyraph’s face had settled back into its previous cold neutrality, and she was now just standing in silence, waiting for the noise to subside enough for her to speak.

It took a few minutes—and it certainly wasn’t absolute, the level of chaos in the surrounding bridges and balconies remained impressive, but eventually enough settled down that she could at least make herself be heard.

“Well, then,” the devil stated curtly, “it appears we do not, after all, have a contract.” She held up her tablet, tapped two spots on it with her thumb, and the screen went dark. “That being the case, the other party is entitled to collect any outstanding debts. Unfortunately, speaking of bells that cannot be un-rung, there appears to be no longer a Goblin King. In the absence of any formal authority—”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” I strolled forward, head up and voice thundering straight from the diaphragm. Ozyraph grimaced as she met my eyes, but didn’t flinch away. “As per precedent and custom, there is one person who can speak on behalf of the goblins—but only with their consent. So it seems the pertinent question for us all is this: does Kzidnak grant its allegiance to the Dark Lord?”

This time, the roar was even louder, and quickly resolved from general noise into comprehensible chanting. It started with a few voices and swelled rapidly as more caught on, until it spread to every corner of the cavern and thousands of goblins were thundering my name at the tops of their collective lungs.

“SEI-JI!”

“SEI-JI!”

“SEI-JI!”

“SEI-JI!”

“SEI-JI!”

And for a long span of repetitions, I let them. Now this was what I was in it for. Just for a moment, I let the sight before my eyes fade, imagining a stadium or concert venue. Myself with guitar in hand, lauded by the crowd for my skill. This…wasn’t quite that, but you know what? It would do.

Ozyraph was staring at me with a wry expression which said she knew exactly what I was thinking, but fuck her. I wasn’t going to let anything ruin this for me.

Finally—but with perfect timing, the only kind I have—I raised both hands in the air, gesturing for quiet. It took a bit, but the crowd complied, silence spreading at my wordless order.

The power. I could see exactly why this went to people’s heads. It was a drug, nothing more or less.

“In fact,” I said into the ensuing (relative) quiet, “I have reconsidered. On behalf of the people of Kzidnak and the Dark Crusade, I have a deal to offer the Devil King. These are the terms I want you to convey to him, precisely.”

Amid the tension of a thousand held breaths, I strode forward, straight into Ozyraph’s personal space, until I stood nose-to-nose with her. Close enough to kiss her, to taste the incongruous spearmint on her breath. She didn’t flinch or retreat by a millimeter, just holding my gaze with all the confidence of someone who could smash me like a mosquito on a whim.

It didn’t matter. We both knew who had won here.

I curled my lip up in a sneer and delivered my terms.

“Fuck off.”

This time, the cheering was so overwhelmingly powerful I had to wonder if a bunch more goblins had suddenly turned up. While Fallencourt dissolved into ecstatic madness all around us, Ozyraph and I stared at one another’s eyes, the mutual hatred sizzling in the air like static after a lightning strike.

Until finally, she took one slow, deliberate step backward, and inclined her head once. She had to raise her voice to be heard, but we were still close enough that I had no trouble making out her words over the noise.

“I will convey your message. Congratulations, little Dark Lord, on scoring one point in a game no one can win.”

Then she flattened, rotated, and a second later I was staring at empty space. No devil, no Goblin King, only the Dark Lord and the city I now ruled.