“I am a part of this world!” the Demon Lord shouted. “Even if you kill me, I shall return! Even if it takes hundreds of years, I will return!”

“Then another Hero will rise to the challenge and vanquish you.”

With those words, the Hero stabbed the Demon Lord through the heart.

----------------------------------------

A Demon Lord’s soul is heavy. Even when guided through the spirals of death and rebirth, it takes a long time for it to return to the world. In the meantime, the world would enjoy a period of relative peace, barring any strife between themselves. No one knows exactly when the Demon Lord would return, but there is always an Order of like-minded individuals who watch the stars for a sign of His imminent return.

Then one day, the clouds above a farm, in distant Notfarmville, darkened. Sonorous thunder echoed, rolling down the mountains and into the lush valleys. The world darkened…

Then a spark of light ignited in the skies, golden and imperious. A teenager looked up to the sky, his eyes glimmering with reverence at the supernatural event. Many thoughts went through his mind. He felt like something was about to change. His life had been one of simplicity: wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep. It was a never-ending cycle that neither brought him pleasure nor sorrow. It was a life. Simple as he was, the teenager considered life to be the only important thing there is. Perhaps this was a quality of wisdom borne through a life that neither knew luxury nor poverty.

The golden light pierced through the dark clouds and formed a spiral—a descending staircase of light and glimmer. It enveloped the boy and fused into his bones. It felt warm and soft on his skin, like a feather’s touch. For the first time in his life, the boy felt elation.

Then the golden light darkened, becoming a sickly green hue, and the boy felt—for the first time—dread. He knew that sickly green things are not good. They are terrible.

The light exploded, forming a fireball hundreds of meters across that exploded a moment afterwards, sending a wave of rippling green flames that destroyed everything around the boy, leaving only a small crater.

In the sky burned a green sun which turned black. Everyone knew what that portent meant—the Demon Lord has returned.

The boy looked at his hands. “Whoa!” he exclaimed. “That was awesome!”

Luckily, he was the only one in the vicinity.

“Ah shit. Something doesn’t feel right,” the boy said, turning toward his house, which had been nuked from existence. “Aw, what am I gonna tell my landlord?”

Speak of the devil; A man was running across the field towards the teenager, holding a piece of paper in his hands.

“Taram!” his landlord screamed. “What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know…” Taram said, rubbing the back of his head. “There were lights and whooshes and then BAM. All gone.”

“What do you mean whoosh and bam? You idiot! Where’s my house?” the landlord screamed at the boy.

“Like I said, man… it’s not my fault.”

The man facepalmed so hard the slap echoed out across the entire farm. “You are lucky you got drafted into the Empress’ army, otherwise I would kill you myself!” The landlord threw the piece of paper at Taram.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Taram caught it and read the first few sentences:

“Taram von Swordgramm, you are hereby drafted into Her Imperial Majesty’s army at the rank of Private. Low pay. No pension. High risk,” the letter said. What followed that was a bunch of legal speak that Taram did not understand.

“You better pay me back every penny for the house, or I swear to all that is Holy and the Empress, you will wish the demons killed you on the front lines,” the landlord said as he turned around and stared at the remains of his humble abode. He shook his head in disgust.

“The caravan is waiting for you at the market. You better hurry,” the landlord said as he departed.

As the landlord left, Taram was left standing there, wondering what just happened. One moment he was quietly tending to his field, and then suddenly, his house was gone, he was in debt, and he was drafted into an army with a mortality rate of over 70%!

“This is awesome!“

Something strange happened then.

Why can’t I control this body?!

There was a strange blue box floating in front of Taram’s eyes. To him, it looked as if it was hovering right in front of his nose, but when he tried to swat it away, he realized it was closer—inside his eyeballs or something.

Ah shit...

Oh no...

Why?

“That is weird.”

Weird? You think this is weird, you little shit? I am a fucking info box!

“It's more like a triangle.”

Are you an idiot? Or perhaps blind? I clearly have a rectangular shape.

“I am not blind,” Taram said as he continued to try dismissing the box with hand gestures. “But now that you mention it, I can’t see.”

Taram leaned left to right, as if trying to see around the box, but it followed him.

Ooooh. You can’t see? I am sorry if I am taking up some visual real estate, but I am a Hells damned Demon Lord!

“Really? That’s cool.”

Cool? Cool!? COOL!? I am a Blue Box now!

“Anyway, I’ve got to go, man. Apparently I am in the army now.”

Sure! Don’t let me keep you. It’s not like we are a part of each other now! Ahhhh… fffffffff—I am a Blue Box.

Taram giggled at the words and headed down the field.

The other way, you moron.

“I knew that,” Taram said as he turned around and headed towards the market.

Listen, you little shit: you will fix this or I swear to all that is Unholy there will be fucking hell to pay, I am fucking telling you.

“Man, I already got too much debt, can we talk about this lat—” Taram trailed off as he tripped over a stone that he couldn’t see due to the blue boxes popping into his field of vision.

Ah shit. You got a level.

Good job, moron.

“A level?” Taram asked, as he picked himself off the ground, patting down his lousy trousers.

Yeah. I am a blue box that tells you when you gain levels and gives you a pat on the back.

How's that for a morale boost?

“Yeah. It feels pretty nice,” Taram said with a smile.

... you can't be serious.

“This is gonna be great.”

I am stuck with an idiot...

"Can I call you Blue?"

Fuck off.