“You’re late,” said Apollyon in a smooth, supple tone. Despite retaining this form for nearly a year, the voice still felt alien. I guess that was only natural after spending nearly three centuries in your own body.

“I’m sorry… my Lord Satan,” Mord huffed, still out of breath from running down several long corridors. “But with all the visitors in the city, the traffic has become a nightmare.”

“I understand that, but your job is to collate and analyze data, and yet, you failed to consider a predictable delay and make the necessary adjustments,” Apollyon sighed as he sipped from a glass of wine. The beverage’s alcohol content had no effect on the daemon physiology concealed in the form of an impeccably groomed middle-aged man. The daemon’s internal temperature stood at several thousand degrees and any alcohol burned away long before it could have any effect, but still Apollyon had grown fond of the substance in the year since he’d arrived on the surface. There was something special about the subtle fruity wine vapor as he consumed it, familiar yet different, as if each bottle held its own unique fingerprint.

“I’m sorry, Lord Satan. So sorry. You are quite right. I have no excuse,” Mord stuttered, dropping to his knees and bringing his head to the ground in a grand gesture of supplication. Mord was similarly disguised in the form of a human, but his form was far from Apollyon’s Greek god-esqe perfection. His ears were strangely pointed, his nose twice too large, and he had a set of buckteeth that made him look part rat, but those couldn’t be helped. Mord wasn’t nearly as magically adept as Apollyon and it was a wonder he could maintain a passably human form at all.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. You’re forgiven,” said Apollyon.

“Thank you. Thank you. You are a most gracious lord and master, Lord Satan,” said Mord between bangs of his forehead against the tile floor.

“That’s enough of that. Stand and deliver your report. And, be quick about it. I have a call with the president of these lands in a few minutes,” said Apollyon. He said president with as much venom as he could muster. Apollyon didn’t like the word, there was no equivalent word in his language so he had to use the dirty human term.

“Yes my Lord Satan. Sorry my Lord Satan,” said Mort, stumbling in a rush to return to his feet and begin his report. “The biggest news is that the beastmen invasion has stalled. They failed to take Crystalpeak and while the human defenders are in bad shape, the beastmen have pulled back to their own territory. We aren’t sure if or when they will move again.”

“They will. They have no choice. But, explain how this happened,” Apollyon ordered calmly. The news was of some surprise. The last few reports had indicated the invasion was almost certain to succeed. While the fact that it failed was unanticipated, Apollyon wasn’t worried. He didn’t really care which side won, human or beastmen it didn’t matter. All Apollyon cared about was the presence of conflict. That was the primary goal of this phase of his grand scheme.

Despite how much more powerful Apollyon and his brethren were individually, even Apollyon had to admit that his illustrious daemon race couldn’t directly seize either world in their current state. Billions of filthy lesser races covered the surfaces of both worlds, while altogether the various daemon races under his stewardship numbered only a single million. If they wished to take either world, the daemons first had to reduce the difference in numbers. This phase of their plan worked to do just that. With a single act, Apollyon was destabilizing two different worlds, pushing the various surface nations into war with one another.

“I’m afraid it was the influence of one of the human travelers. After the human expedition was crushed, people lost faith in the leaders of Crystalpeak and some Earthman came to power. He managed to organize the city’s remaining inhabitants to repel the beastmen,” Mord said slowly in a failed attempt to lessen the sting Apollyon felt upon hearing the news.

The human travelers were an unintended side effect of when Apollyon moved half of his people from Tautellus to Earth. When his 500,000 daemons travelled to Earth, an identical 500,000 humans were sent to Tautellus. Of course they’d run tests, moved a small number of daemons ahead of time to pave the way for their mass exodus, but in those experiments they’d never realized humans were also being taken from the surface. But then, the humans didn’t realize it either back then. The number of people teleported away was so insignificant those taken were labeled missing and any witnesses who claimed to see people taken by a mysterious white light were relegated to mental institutions.

Of course, all that changed after the mass exodus. The humans of Earth might have been incompetent but even they noticed half a million people vanishing in an instant. Apollyon still wasn’t sure if the side effect was a good or bad thing. On one hand, it had put all the Earth authorities on high alert, making the insertion of his agents that much more difficult, and had delivered the annoyingly immortal and technologically sophisticated human travelers to Tautellus. On the other hand, the strange event had filled the Earth with fear. What happened to all those people? Would it happen again? Or was this event just one sign of a greater event yet to come? Apollyon knew that fear made people selfish and violent, which was perfect for his aims.

“Ultimately it doesn’t matter,” Apollyon assured himself. “So long as the portal remains open and our presence remains undiscovered we will win in the end. It is only a matter of time.”

“Of course, my Lord Satan,” Mord nodded vigorously, happy that his king had taken the news so well.

“Now, I want to know about the portal. Last I heard they were waiting on data one of our Earth operatives stole,” said Apollyon.

“I have nothing significant to report. As far as I know, the portal is working at the same output. The data hasn’t reached the sight yet,” said Mord.

“The operative delivering it must be taking their time. How long have they been in rout, a month?” Apollyon asked.

“Twenty-seven days,” Mort answered after a quick scan in the bland manila folder he carried. “But I don’t think it’s surprising given the distance and type of terrain the operative must traverse.”

Apollyon sighed and took another swig of wine. The portal was located at a remote location deep inside a region of Tautellus that was perpetually frozen.

It was one of the most annoying limitations Apollyon had to work around. He had relatively few daemons capable of discretely operating on the surface of either world and sometimes they had to travel great distances between tasks.

“And when the data arrives?” Apollyon asked.

“The researchers still need to go through it, but from some of the preliminary results they’ve had from the last set they believe the data could be used to increase the portal’s transfer rate by as much as 40%,” Mord explained.

“Good. Now, is there anything else that needs my immediate attention? I can’t spend all this evening with you,” said Apollyon.

“Nothing too important, various troop movements mostly in the south and far east,” said Mord.

“The details are in your full report?” Apollyon asked, nodding toward the folder in Mord’s hands.

“Of course, my Lord Satan,” Mord replied, bowing deeply once again.

“Leave it on my desk,” said Apollyon.

Mord nodded and backed away leaving Apollyon alone on his penthouse balcony. Apollyon walked to the balcony’s edge and gazed down at the filthy crisscrossing humans far below. A human wouldn’t have been able to make out any details at such a distance, but Apollyon could see it all.

‘These New Yorkers don’t have a clue what’s coming for them. Soon many of them will be dead and those who remain will be under my firm hand. It’s only a matter of time,’ Apollyon thought as he finished his wine and headed back inside.

As he passed through the living room on his way to his office, Apollyon couldn’t help but overhear the news report playing on the television and smile. The reporter was talking about the next day’s emergency UN meeting only a couple blocks away. The meeting was set to discuss the rapidly developing global warming crisis and the various humanitarian issues that had sprung up in its wake. In the past year, the Earth’s surface temperature had risen by three degrees, far outstripping even the scariest of the human scientists’ projections.

Apollyon thought it was perfect. Already, there was talk of it being the end of the world. Already, various countries were at each other’s throats, as they fought over diminishing resources. It was only a matter of time before talk ran out and war began.

Apollyon entered his office at precisely 6 pm. Apollyon could see the report Mort promptly placed on the large glass top desk in the center of the room. But that wasn’t what Apollyon was after. By the time Apollyon made it to his desk, the phone was already ringing.

“Hello,” Apollyon picked up the phone.

“Is this Harold Marigold?” asked a rather tart woman on the other end of the line.

“Yes,” Apollyon answered. Harold was a multi-billionaire New York media mogul with a plethora of connections to politics and the entertainment industry before Apollyon killed him and assumed his likeness. To the outside world, nothing much had changed, but over the past year, Apollyon used Harold’s status to tweak several important factors.

“Please hold for the President of the United States,” the woman said shortly before the line shifted to the dulcet tones of soft jazz.

It annoyed Apollyon the almighty Satan, ruler of all daemonkind, to have to wait for the pathetic human leader, but this relationship was too important to risk on minor trifles. After a few minutes, a familiar voice came on the line.

“Hey Harry, how’s it going?” said the president.

“You know, same old same old. I do whatever the hell I want whenever I feel like doing it, Mr. President,” Apollyon replied.

“Yeah sometimes I wish it was like before… My previous life... I loved my previous life. This is a lot more work than my previous life, which is okay. I like to work. But they just have me doing so many… I hope it’s okay if I cut to the chase,” said the president.

“Of course, Mr. President. I understand you are a busy man,” said Apollyon.

“Busy, very busy,” the president agreed. “So, I want your thinking on… with this global warming problem. I don’t know if you know, but tomorrow there is this UN thing.”

“Yes, I heard something about that,” Apollyon said vaguely. “As to my opinion, this global warming phenomenon may present a challenge, but any forced solution could make things worse. Reducing carbon emissions may reduce the severity of the problem, but it would take decades and be disastrous to the economy. I’ve heard talk about painting vast stretches of land white to lower the planet’s albedo or launching a thin film into space to weaken incoming radiation. But, who knows what consequences those things could have? How would wildlife react if we painted everything white or what should happen if the film is just a bit too effective? We could just as easily create an even bigger problem for ourselves. The Earth has been around for four billion years, there have been many times were its temperature was even greater than it is now. I believe we should trust the Earth. Whatever is happening, it’ll find a way to balance itself out in the long run.”

“But what about now?” the president asked. “Florida is half underwater, which includes one of my own golf courses, and not all the coastal cities are as lucky as New York. Many can’t afford the flooding prevention stuff even with how much the government chips in. Property damage is enormous. Just tremendous. It’s the worst anyone has ever seen in like forever.”

“You were a businessman,” Apollyon began.

“Yes, a big businessman,” said the president.

“If anything, a bit of property damage is helping the economy. Construction related industry is up 150 percent, unemployment is at an all-time low, and wages are up,” Apollyon argued. His goal was to get the man to do as little as possible. This task wasn’t too difficult, the silver spoon born and bred human leader was naturally inclined to laziness, making him easily swayed by Apollyon’s arguments. In the end, nothing the president could do would change the outcome, but he could delay Apollyon’s ascendency.

“I know that things may be going okay for the US but what about other countries. My people tell me drought has ravaged South East Asia causing India and Pakistan to be at each other’s throats even more than they normally…. And, don’t get me started on China. Their increased fishing has the Koreans and Japanese calling for sanctions,” said the president.

“Again, all I see is potential benefit,” said Apollyon. This time he put a bit of mana into it. The hypnotic effect of a glamor would be far less effective over the phone than in person, but given the number of times Apollyon had used the magic on the president, he figured it should do the trick. “Tension between India and Pakistan could mean big business for our defense industry. And as for China, you’ve been complaining about them since the campaign. This is your chance to finally do something.”

†Deception† has reached level 53

Apollyon smiled. Imbued with the power of their Great Adversary, he didn’t even need to hear the president’s answer. Apollyon knew he had succeeded.

“Maybe you’re right, Harry. Maybe I should just wait… and see…,” said the president, his previously forceful voice deflating. After a few long seconds of dead air, the president’s voice finally returned. “Thanks, Harry. It was nice to have such a great talk. We are great friends. You always manage to calm me down.”

“Not a problem, Mr. President,” said Apollyon. “Just remember, next time it feels like the world is about to end, give me a call. I’ll be happy to talk you down from the ledge again, my friend.”

Apollyon doubled the force of his magic for this part. It was important that the president contact him when his glamor wore off and the president started to worry again. The president had been calling Apollyon with growing frequency. The problems of this world were beginning to mount and the glamor could only do so much. Eventually, it would stop working at all and Apollyon could finally give up this farce, but for now, he’d do everything in his power to hang on.