Carl hummed a low, almost cheerful melody as Hubertus entered the chamber where the soul chambers were stored. The room’s eerie glow reflected off the pulsating orb that belonged to Carl, casting shifting shadows across the walls. Hubertus greeted Carl, who turned with a smirk.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Carl said.

“I need a favor,” Hubertus began, holding up his own soul chamber. “Can I store this here for now? I don’t have a place of my own.”

Carl waved a clawed hand dismissively. “Sure. Stick it wherever there’s space.” His tone was casual, but the faint pride in his eyes suggested that the spire’s storage of soul chambers was more than just a practical arrangement—it was a mark of status.

After securing his soul chamber, Hubertus told Carl about the trinket he’d been given. “It’s a toothbrush,” he said, the disbelief still evident in his voice.

Carl raised an eyebrow, then barked out a laugh. “A toothbrush? What’s it for? Keeping your demon teeth shiny?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Hubertus muttered, shaking his head.

“Well,” Carl said, his tone shifting, “enough about dental hygiene. It’s time for some real work.”

Hubertus perked up, curious. “Work?”

Carl nodded, leaning back against the wall. “I’ve got a client looking for someone to do a job. He’s offering the ability to play piano—flawlessly, mind you—in exchange for an artifact that’s sitting in a museum.”

Hubertus blinked, then frowned. “You want me to break into a museum and steal something for him? For… piano skills?” His voice was heavy with skepticism.

Carl shrugged. “That’s the deal.”

Hubertus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Sure, with his shapeshifting ability, breaking into a museum wouldn’t be much of a challenge. But what would he even do with the ability to play piano? It wasn’t exactly a skill in high demand in the Abyss. Then again, perhaps someone—some desperate mortal or demon—might be willing to trade for it. If it was as good as the client claimed.

Carl interrupted his musings. “Look, he’s looking for someone to take the job, and I was thinking about you.” His fiery eyes narrowed slightly as he gestured to Hubertus. “I can give him your summoning scroll, and he’ll summon you to discuss the details. But listen—this is your first real job. Make sure you’re presentable.”

Carl’s gaze swept over Hubertus’ human form, his smirk turning slightly critical. “You’ll want to make a good impression.”

Hubertus handed over his summoning scroll, the edges of the parchment glowing faintly as Carl took it. “Alright,” Hubertus said, resigned but intrigued. “Let’s see where this goes.”

Carl nodded, stepping back as a portal opened behind him. Without another word, he disappeared, leaving Hubertus alone in the chamber.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Now, all Hubertus could do was wait—patiently, if not a little nervously—for the moment he would be summoned.

Hubertus shifted into his demon form, the transformation flowing over him like a tide of darkness. His skin darkened, taking on a leathery, obsidian texture that rippled like liquid shadow. His frame expanded, growing taller and broader, as jagged horns spiraled from his skull, curling skyward like infernal spires. Violet flames erupted around his shoulders, licking at the air with a menacing hunger. His hands morphed into clawed gauntlets of pure malice, each sharp edge catching the faintest glimmer of light.

His bull-like face, sharp and menacing, mirrored the power of a true demon. Crimson eyes blazed with furious intensity, and when he let out a low, guttural laugh, the sound rumbled like distant thunder. The Overlord’s mark within him seemed to pulse with approval.

The transformation complete, the summoning began. A sudden, forceful tug wrenched him from Carl’s spire, pulling him through a swirling vortex of dark energy. When the world righted itself, Hubertus found himself standing in a forest clearing under a pale moonlight. The trees loomed tall and twisted, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky. Beneath his hooves, a glowing binding circle pulsed faintly with arcane power.

“Welcome, oh, server of the Abyss!” A reedy voice broke the stillness. Hubertus turned, his gaze falling on a peculiar figure standing just beyond the circle.

The man was strange, to say the least. His left eye gleamed like polished glass, catching the light unnaturally, and his fingers were crooked, twisted into awkward angles as if they’d been broken and never properly healed. Despite his deformities, the man carried himself with an odd dignity.

This guy is supposed to be a piano player? Hubertus thought skeptically. Still, this was his time to impress.

Straightening to his full height, Hubertus allowed his flames to flare slightly, casting long shadows through the clearing. His voice deepened to a theatrical boom. “Oh, Mortal, what do you desire, that you summon me, the Almighty Abraxor?”

The name rolled off his tongue with practiced ease. He’d come up with it while waiting to be summoned, and he liked its commanding tone. If he was going to make a name for himself in the Abyss, he might as well start here.

The man’s crooked smile widened. “I want you to retrieve something for me,” he said, his voice shaky but determined. “An old foe of mine stole an artifact—a relic of my ancestors—and sold it to a museum.”

Hubertus tilted his head, feigning indifference. “Oh, I see,” he rumbled, his tone dripping with mock arrogance. “Nothing a feeble little demon can’t accomplish.”

The man flinched slightly at his tone, but Hubertus raised a clawed hand, and with a dramatic flourish, a glowing scroll appeared, floating before them. The edges flickered with ember-like energy, pulsing faintly in the night.

“First, we seal the deal,” Hubertus said, his voice taking on a businesslike tone. He gestured at the scroll with one sharp claw. “Please, sign here, here, and here.”

The man hesitated, his glassy eye flicking to the glowing parchment, but Hubertus’ towering presence left little room for refusal. Slowly, he stepped forward and took the quill that had materialized alongside the scroll. His crooked fingers trembled slightly as he pressed the quill to the parchment, signing his name in unsteady strokes. Each mark glowed faintly before sinking into the parchment like molten gold.

When the final stroke was complete, the scroll rolled itself up and vanished into the void with a flick of Hubertus’ claws.

“Excellent,” Hubertus said, his voice smooth and rich with satisfaction. “Now, tell me more about this artifact and its location.”

The man nodded eagerly, his strange, glassy eye gleaming in the moonlight. “It’s locked away in the central display of the Old City Museum. Security is tight—wards, alarms, guards—but I know you can handle it.”

Hubertus smirked, his sharp teeth glinting faintly in the light. This would be a test of his abilities, and perhaps, an opportunity to begin carving out his reputation. The Overlord’s faint presence flickered within him, an ever-present reminder of the stakes.

“Very well,” Hubertus said, his voice carrying a note of finality. “Consider it done.”