Once Frank had been banished from his sight, Morthisal dropped into the cushioned seat, laptop in hand, and became acquainted with how the keyboard worked. As the landlord had pointed out, he tried typing in a few phrases and pressing the 'enter' key.

His first few searches yielded a lot of information, particularly concerning how electricity could unlock magical powers. It was in this way that he learned of superheroes. Morthisal had a feeling these were the heroes of the land. He would need to devise a way to defeat them if he were to survive and conquer this world.

He searched for many things, such as rituals for channeling energy through devices in this hovel, what to expect at a former dark lord's first day of work, how to conquer the world without an army of orcs, where to find the nearest necropolis, and where to find willing or unwilling minions.

Morthisal hunched over the laptop, fingers fumbling across the keyboard. Each keystroke summoned a cascade of information onto the luminous screen. He typed "methods of ascension in modern hierarchy," and thousands of results appeared, articles and forums sprawling endlessly.

A loud knock echoed from the door.

"Enter," he said without looking up.

Travious stepped inside, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "You called me?"

Morthisal glanced up, eyebrows knitting. "Did I? Ah, yes." He closed the laptop gently. "Though with this device, perhaps I have less need of you."

Travious shifted uncomfortably. "Really? I had to leave work. They're already short-staffed and I can't risk losing my job."

"It will only take a moment." Morthisal stood, the residual buzz from the electrical shock still tingling in his hands. "Consider it a brief interlude. Now, help me sort through this information. I feel some of it is real, and some of it is false.“

“What are you doing?”

“I am googling that shit,” Morthisal said.

Travious moved to the large cushioned seat, looked over Morthisal’s shoulder, and eyed the laptop. "Bruh. You know most stuff on Google is nonsense, right? You won't find real ways to... well, whatever you're trying to do."

Morthisal arched a brow. "This repository of knowledge is flawed? I must needs discover a way to conquer all that is within my grasp. It is in my nature. Do you understand this?”

“No, I don’t. But what choice do I have?” Travious vigorously shook his head.

Morthisal, still brimming with power, tightened the thread.

"Yeah… okay. Depends on where you look. But if you're searching for, say, world domination tips, you're out of luck. Politicians already got that one in the bag.”

“Is that so?,” Morthisal said.

“Anything else? I should really go,” Travious said.

“One other thing.” Morthisal set the laptop aside, ignoring a beep it emitted. Morthisal walked to the little table near the door and picked up the stack of papers left on the table. "I require assistance with this. I have agreed to do a job. I have no idea how to do this job. Explain all of this to me.“

Travious took the documents and scanned them quickly. "You got your job back. A nice raise. It’s good for six months... Wait, you signed this?" Travious pointed to the bottom of the page."You released them from all liability. You could've sued the company, maybe gotten a huge settlement. Lived like a king without having to work another day."

Morthisal let out a dry laugh. "Live like a king? I've been a dark lord ruling realms beyond your imagining."

Travious nodded absently. "Right, a dark lord from a faraway land."

"I do not think you understand. I am not of this world. All of this.” Morthisal waved his hand at the contract. “It is foreign to me.”

“Got that head wound. Yeah. Must have been worse off than we thought. Maybe we should get you back in the hospital. Or to some mental health professionals.”

Morthisal grew frustrated with explaining himself. He opened his extensive memories and grasped Travious’ hand. Through the thread, he shared his old life.

Travious went stock still.

Morthisal channeled his memories through the connection, flooding Travious's mind with visions of the Shadowspike Citadel's grand throne room. Obsidian pillars stretched toward the vaulted ceiling where perpetual shadows writhed and danced in the light of black-flame braziers.

"Behold what I once was," Morthisal whispered.

Through the vision, hunched orcs in rusted armor shuffled across the black marble floor, their heads bowed so low their tusks nearly scraped the ground. A pair of goblins scurried past, carrying a tray of bubbling potions, with long ears pressed flat against their skulls in submission.

Along the walls stood the Deathless Guard—no mere shambling corpses. These were warriors he had personally selected and raised from death's embrace. Their armor gleamed with a dull black sheen, enchanted plates crafted from shadow steel. Empty eye sockets burned with pale blue fire, faces frozen in eternal vigilance. Not a single muscle twitched, not a breath stirred their chests—they had no need for such mortal functions.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"These were my most loyal servants," Morthisal continued. Travious trembled under his grip, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “Captain Kallidus here led a thousand men in life. In death, he ruled and commanded thousands of skeletal warriors."

The spectral skeletal face bore a crown of thorns that had pierced his skull, marking his rank. His bony hands still clutched the greatsword that had ended his mortal life.

At the far end loomed Morthisal's throne, carved from a single massive chunk of void crystal. Souls of the damned swirled within its dark depths, faces pressed against the surface in eternal torment. The steps leading to it were lined with kneeling dark elf nobles. Silver hair reflected the eerie light as they paid homage to their dread lord.

One in particular, a dark elf of astonishing beauty, stood behind the throne. She had raven hair and high cheekbones and could have been any age between twenty-five and fifty. Her face and demeanor seemed to be timeless.“My consort Thalindra. A sorceress of astonishing power. I fear she did not survive when I was sent here.

"The living feared me. The dead served me. Even the demons of the lower planes respected my power." Morthisal released his grip, letting the vision fade. "And now I am reduced to deciphering employment contracts and attempting to master this infernal 'laptop.' Such are the travails of me, the dark one."

Travious stumbled backward, his face ashen. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he steadied himself against the wall.

"Those weren't special effects," Travious croaked. "That was real. All of it. Fuck me.”

"Indeed. Now you understand why I require your assistance. This world's customs are... foreign to me. I cannot simply execute those who displease me, as I gather that is frowned upon here."

"Plus, it'll land you in jail, and you could be the one getting executed."

"Hmm. That will not do."

It really couldn't. He had the barest scrap of his former powers and would have to tread lightly. He could expand his influence as he learned how to gather more of his former abilities. For now, he would need to play it safe.

"Man, I need a drink," Travious said, sliding down the wall until he sat on the floor. "Several drinks. Do you have anything to drink?”

“The kitchen is yours to command,” Morthisal said, gesturing toward the room containing food and the washing machine.

Travious went into it on shaky legs. Cabinets banged around. “Hey. Did you know you have a shirt in your dishwasher?”

“Is that not the machine that cleans?”

Travious laughed. A glass rattled on the counter. “Nah. Clothes go in the clothes washer. Dishes go in the dishwasher.” Travious brought out a glass filled with an amber liquid and handed it to Morthisal. “Do dark lords like scotch? I hate it myself, but I’m desperate, know what I’m saying. That was some shit. Some shit! How did you live like that?”

“Quite comfortably, I assure you. My throne room was magnificent. A true testament to pure and unrelenting power. I had it all, Travious. But, had I stayed, I would have lost my head. The poor fool who took my place was surely killed when the heroes broke through my fortress doors."

"The guy whose body you took over? Damn. That's harsh."

"Harsh?"

"Mean. Cold. Harsh."

"If you say so." Morthisal shrugged.

Travious glanced toward the door. "Look, man, you want to take over the world, and it isn't gonna be so easy here. There are rules, laws, and people who will stop you. They have weapons that can blast this apartment into next week. They can kill you with a single bullet from a gun. Okay? You need to be smart." Travious paused. "I might be able to help. I get that you're somehow controlling me. I can feel it. I don't like it. Why not make me your willing helper, okay? You got something going on, and I can get behind that. Maybe I can write your story. Just floating that out there. I can help you."

"A willing helper? I shall think on this."

"Another thing. Use your phone. If you need me, message me. Summoning me out of work ain't gonna cut it. I won’t be no good to either of us if I lose my job."

"How does this messaging work?"

Travious took a seat next to Morthisal and said, "Give me your phone. I'll put my digits in."

Morthisal retrieved the I phone from his pocket and held it out to Travious. The screen was a lifeless mirror reflecting their faces. Morthisal pressed the button on the side and was presented with a matrix of numbers.

"It's locked," Travious said, pressing the side button. "You need to unlock it first."

"Ah yes, the facial recognition spell." Morthisal lifted the phone to his face, but a number pad appeared instead. "Why is this not working?"

"It wants a passcode. You don't know it?"

"I possess this body, not its memories."

Travious drummed his fingers on the armrest. "Wait. Most people keep their passwords somewhere. Check the laptop—there's usually a search function." He leaned over and pointed to the magnifying glass icon. "Click that."

Morthisal's fingers moved across the trackpad with growing confidence. "And what am I searching for?"

"Just type 'passwords' and see what comes up."

A list of files appeared on the screen. One caught Morthisal's eye—'Passwords.txt'. He clicked it open, revealing rows of usernames and codes.

"Is this a treasure trove of secrets?" Morthisal said, scanning the list. "Netflix... Amazon... Bank of America... fascinating."

"That's the file. But be careful with that," Travious warned. "Identity theft is serious business here. People can steal your whole life if they get hold of those passwords."

"Identity theft?" Morthisal's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "How fitting. I who once stole an entire body."

"Yeah, that's called irony." Travious shook his head.

Morthisal located the I phone's passcode and slowly pressed the numbers. The device unlocked with a soft chime.

"Perfect." Travious took the phone and began tapping the screen. "I'm putting my number in here. See this green icon? That's for messages. Do me a favor and summon me with that, okay?"

Travious demonstrated the messaging system for Morthisal.

"A curious form of communication. In my realm, we used enchanted ravens or telepathic bonds forged in blood."

"Yeah, well, texting is easier. And doesn't involve any blood or magic." Travious handed the phone back. "Try sending me a message."

Morthisal pecked at the screen with one finger: 'Your dark lord commands you to verify this missive was received.'

A moment later, Travious's phone buzzed. He laughed. "Got it. But maybe tone down the 'dark lord' stuff in writing. You never know who might see these."

"A wise precaution," Morthisal conceded. "Though it pains me to hide my true nature behind such mundane discourse. You know, you are quite wordy for one who is under my spell."

"Mostly under. Like I said. I can feel it. I know you'll make me forget all of this when I leave. I'm telling you I can help, okay? Just act like a normal damn person and tell me what you need. I'll do my best to assist you. But, there is a small price, and that price is money. You want my loyalty, that shit is for sale. Here's the thing, though. Nothing illegal on my end. I can't do that. I have a job and I mostly like my job. The pay is steady and I got bills, know what I mean?"

Morthisal did not know what the man meant, however he considered Travious's words. Travioius was quite helpful, but he was also Morthisal's first minion. He was useful to have on call at any time, but he would not be the first or the last. Perhaps he could give the man some leeway. He may also be useful in bringing more minions to Morthisal.

He studied Travious for a moment. "Very well. I will think on this offer. Depart my presence and return to your job."

Travious gave a slight shrug. "Alright, then. I'm sure I'll hear from you soon." He turned and left the apartment quietly