I was naked. It was expected.
Standing tall and recovering from the slight dizziness that came with portal travel, I took in my first glimpse of the mortal realm of Ria.
While preparing for this treasonous escape plan, I’d used my scrying mirror in the Underworld to view this land and the city just beyond the hill.
That’s how I’d known what trees were, and that they were green. I’d understood that the skies were blue, and the morning light was golden and warm. The Underworld had its libraries, after all, and I always used scrying to confirm the text’s information.
Experiencing these things was entirely different.
So much different from the red skies of home. The constant rise of smoke and ash on the horizon. The weak, orange sunlight shining on dark waters.
This was… beautiful.
But I didn’t have much time to dally. I had a plan to stick to, after all.
Amarantha sprawled beside the Angar Sea and bordered the wetlands alongside the Yuri River. I was currently in the farmlands just outside of the city.
On this particular hillside, there were tall trees that shaded a farmer’s house. I knew it well, since I’d scryed the area before my arrival.
Right now, the farmer’s wife was churning butter, as was her usual routine. She was leaned over a barrel and stirring that ridiculous plunging mechanism.
Her full breasts were secured by her dress’s front ties, but the tops of them bulged dangerously as she fought against the hardening butter. Sweat dampened her brow, and strands of dark hair stuck to her temple.
She was a small, yet critical part of my plan too. I had to get to the city of Amarantha and learn their system of magic.
But first, I needed clothing.
The back of my neck prickled.
I turned around and stifled a groan. “Damn you to ashes. You couldn’t wait one day?”
A second ago, the sky had been clear and bright. Now, black thunderclouds loomed above, flashing with lightning.
It meant only one thing.
A demon had slipped into Ria and was here to wreak havoc.
As if on cue, it began to rain. But the droplets that splattered on my skin were crimson.
“Blood rain,” I mused. “The demons are always so showy.”
The farmer’s wife was now gaping at the sky, terror in her eyes. She didn’t even register that I’d approached her, so when I hefted the barrel of butter in my arms and pushed her indoors, she gasped in alarm.
“What? Who are you? No! No, stop!” Her protests died when I set the barrel down. Her eyes dropped below my navel.
Her cheeks were stained with some of the blood, but I still noticed how her face reddened.
“Good morning, Mrs. Farmer,” I said. “My name is Luc, and I’m afraid there’s a demon on its way to decimate your lovely farm. If you lend me some clothing, I’ll be happy to send it back to the Underworld for you. Also, I’ve been told it’s rude to stare.”
Her head snapped back up, skin redder than the rain. “S-s-sorry, sir. What did you say? Clothing? Yes, I can do that.”
I chuckled as she fled the room. This wasn’t the introduction I’d been planning, but it’d do. I would have fought off this demon whether she agreed to lend me clothing or not, but I was banking on her helpful nature.
Moments later, she came back with a bundle of brown, rough-spun clothing. “These are my husband’s. They might be small, but they’re better than nothing.”
Her big, blue eyes blinked up hopefully.
“These are perfect,” I informed her.
A roar shattered the air, shaking the house and making the woman whimper. She covered her head.
I pulled my legs through the undergarment only and decided to stop there. No need to get my new clothes needlessly filthy during the fight.
I carefully cracked the door open and peered back outside. At the top of the hill was a winged demon. Even hunched over, it was easily over nine feet tall. Leathery, black flesh was wet with blood, and white teeth protruded in jagged lines from its lips.
A lesser demon. That explained the overdone storm theatrics. It was an elemental demon wanting to seem bigger than it actually was.
The beasts had stout chests and shoulders, but their hind legs were shrunken and near useless. With an expanse of cracked, ashen skin and bulging eyes, they were anything but handsome.
The trick about my portal travel was how it was powered. Normally, demon kin used the void’s own power to create a portal.
But to keep my father from noticing, I’d had to use my own mana. And most of it too.
Now, I had just enough dark mana left to cast one powerful spell. I would have to make it count.
As I stepped into the open, Mrs. Farmer reached for me, a cry on her lips. “Don’t! No! It’ll kill you!”
“Stay inside,” I ordered with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Keep the door closed, if you please.”
“Okay,” she agreed softly. She had a strange expression on her face and gaped at me, a little like a fish.
I shut the door firmly and stepped out into the open.
The demon turned its red eyes on me.
Within a second, it was in the air and flying straight for me. Electricity crackled across its wings.
You asked for it, cursed one.
I ran toward it, widening the distance between myself and the farmhouse.
I might not have more than one spell left, but I wasn’t the ancient Prince of the Underworld for nothing.
I stretched my arm out, fingers spread, and ordered my mana to rise.
Heed my will. Obey me, your master, I demanded. There wasn’t a shred of hesitation in my resolve.
Dark mana was a powerful substance. Even though it was technically mine, wielders still had to be strong enough to harness it. Some demon kin never learned how to master their dark mana. It required a domineering kind of strength not everyone possessed.
The demon stretched its neck forward, indicating a tooth-first strategy.
My mana responded instantly. Like a leashed dragon, it roared to life in my veins.
The demon plunged toward me.
I waited until it was less than six feet away to call out, “Void Flame! ”
Black fire erupted from my fingertips, crackling with deadly energy. It engulfed the demon before it had time to understand what was happening.
The fell flames sunk into the demon’s flesh. It writhed briefly, and its mouth opened up in an undignified protest.
Then, of course, the demon exploded.
Bits of bone and gore splashed me. And then it was over.
The black clouds dissipated. The morning sun returned, illuminating the scarlet grass and the destroyed mess of the demon.
My pool of dark mana was gone for good.
And then it sank in for the first time. After 223 years, I was a mortal.
“Sir! Sir! Are you okay? Oh, by the grace of light, thank goodness.”
Before I could turn, Mrs. Farmer’s fingers fluttered over my chest and back, checking for injuries.
I said, “The blood isn’t mine. Please don’t worry yourself, but thank you for your concern.”
Completely ignoring me, her big eyes hardened with resolve. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. You look like a nightmare.”
After I’d washed the blood and sweat from myself and changed into my newly earned clothing, I learned more about what was happening in the outskirts of Amarantha and within the city itself.
Mrs. Farmer, whose name was Deirdre, informed me that demons had been popping up more than usual in this area. Sometimes, there were enough adventurers around to defeat it. But all the way out here, a few miles from the city? It was less likely help would arrive in time.
As she explained, concern grew inside of me. The demon may not have used a portal to get here. If there were more attacks than usual, that meant there was a small tear in the void between the Underworld and here.
If left unchecked, the tear would grow in size and spit out more and more demons.
In the Underworld, father kept a close eye on the greater demons and their overlords. They were the ones who caused the most trouble, and contrary to some worlds’ popular beliefs, dear old Dad wasn’t interested in dominating the mortal realms.
But lesser demons like the one I’d just killed weren’t monitored so intensely. If there was a tear, they would certainly have found it.
I dressed myself and accepted a warm meal from my hostess. With a parting promise to visit again, I made my way down the road to Amarantha.
As I descended the hillside, I passed a group of four adventurers. They had a crest displayed on their cloaks.
It depicted a tower stitched in blue thread on a field of green. These were members of the famous guild I had come to join.
Each carried an impressive weapon, one a mighty shield, another a bow, and the last two held a sword and spear respectively.
They eyed me suspiciously, so I gave them an aggressive wave of my hand. Good thing I’ve done my research on human behavior, I thought as the group passed by.
For some reason, their faces scrunched up as if confused. The hero with the shield looked particularly offended, and he whispered to his companions. They shared a laugh and walked away, no doubt heading to where the clouds had formed.
Such bold adventurers would want to catch the demon who had passed through.
Little did they know, I’d already cleaned up that particular mess myself.