Once outside the throne room I cast another spell. Demonic energy pools in my body before explosively releasing a shadow which envelopes the entire castle, searching out any of my disciples that may yet remain. I am not entirely dissapointed because I feet a single presence, not particularly nearby but … well within the castle at least. So I start to walk, slowly with a ponderous gait I follow my spell and let my senses adapt themselves, scaling down from the global scale they've been operating at, so I only receive information from the immediate vicinity – 5 miles out or so. My castle is silent and unfamiliar as I shuffle through it – it has been long since I left the throne room and various minions over the years have built and rebuilt the surrounding structures – so I have to rely on my spell to lead me to the presence it has detected.

I pass through many massive rooms all connected by arched doorways under domed ceilings. Here and there there are massive murals and stained glass windows depicting a variety of things from demons in battle to demons in prayer, though many of these artistic touches have been defaced and shattered by whomever it was who invaded my castle. My castle doesnt look much like a castle at all anymore; in fact, it reminds me more of a cathedral with its current architectural style. A massive cathedral with wide airy passageways and huge windows that reveal towers and twiddly bits rising into the air all around with the throne room nestled securely in the center. Not that I care either way, a castle or a cathedral – it looks the same from my throne.

My spell leads me down through the cathedral until I stand before a massive door that is barred with magic. Above the door is a massive mithril plaque engraved with spidery script that seemed to dance and flicker “Crypt of the Chosen”. Old High Demonic. A bit surprising that anyone still knows the language, disheartening even, if they knew why did I bother to learn their strange common tongue? My motivation is being sapped away. With a sigh and a wave of my hand the magic disappears and the doors swing wide.

Inside it was apparent this place had also been vandalized. The tombs desecrated and robbed. A hole in the wall to the left had admitted the vandals who had flown through the crypt and left a trail of broken stonework and robbed graves. Indifferent to the destruction I continue on into the large underground complex which apparently served as some sort of burial ground for my servants. Allowing my spell to guide me through the twisting and ancient caverns I weave my way through the graves and tombs. The distance is long. Obnoxiously so. I'm nearly a mile underground when I find a particular tomb carved of white stone – one of the few that is undisturbed, its magical protections still intact. In a spot in the tunnel that looks almost natural, as if the cave had gaped wide on its own accord to make room for the alcove holding a white stone sarcophagus. Above was another mithril plaque carved with the words – again in High Demonic – “In Death, Service” which sounds about right. Another wave of my hand crushes the magical defenses, grinding them into nothing before they can even attempt to lash out at me, and another wave causes the lid of the sarcophagus to slowly slide off, seemingly on its own.

The lid slides aside to reveal a young woman laying in a bed of satin. Despite being apparently dead her body looks healthy. Her skin is pink, a brighter pink than you would see on any human, and she has red hair with two curling horns at her temples. She's laying on two bat-like wings – higher on her back than mine, closer to her shoulder blades than her hips. Her eyes are closed but I imagine they are red and slitted as typical of her species. She'd been buried in a pure white robe, that looks vaguely like the religious garb I can remember seeing human zealots wearing in the past. A succubus. It was obvious at a glance why she had been chosen to receive a blessing. After all she looks a bit like me if you squint. And her forehead bears my Brand, a black “V” looks to have been tattooed slightly above and between her eyes with magic. Staring, I try for a moment to recall her – after all that brand on her forehead could only have been applied by me – but I give up. I recognize my own magic at least but the woman's face simply doesn't ring a bell. Oh well.

I begin to cast the magic that would “bring her back to life” though in truth she was not really dead. The blessing I give my minions doesn't only strengthen them considerably above other demons it also doesn't let them truly die, so long as I am alive. Demon's have effectively unlimited lifespans so by linking one of them to my magical power by way of the Brand they become pretty much unkillable and can regenerate any wound given enough time. The regeneration was monstrous to the point that even if you reduced one of my Branded to a single finger they would be entirely whole and healed by … the next time I woke up. However long that is. There are ways around it of course, like destroying the body in its entirety or certain high level holy magics but its still a good magic for rewarding my cute subordinates. Or at least I've always thought it is.

Since her body is whole it was likely she had been mortally wounded and then buried by incompetents before she could regenerate. Or maybe she entombed herself on purpose with a goal in mind? Maybe she had been outmaneuvered politically and forced to accept being buried alive for some reason or another? Impossible to say. A mystery that will never be solved. Unless I just ask her I guess. But I don't really care enough to do that.

The magic gathers around me and the whole room glows with a faint green light. Above the woman's body a glowing magical Rune Formation appears – guiding the magic as I command – preparing to force a large amount of my magical power into her body and jolt her into wakefulness. If I can't sleep you can be damn sure my little minions can't either I grumble to myself as I force the magic into the shape I want, Runes twinkling and shifting themselves into position. When it looks perfect I release the spell and the green light vanishes, sucked into the runes. They glow green momentarily before flashing as the mana overflows and the spell activates.

The succubus's body shudders and draws in a breath. Looking at her I wonder if she's actually quite weak? Considering she needs to breath apparently. She's writhing about a bit now her face red and flushed as my magic rampages through her body, stimulating nerve endings and ensuring functionality. It's quite a sight considering the natural endowments of a succubus but sadly I'm indifferent – its been a long time since I felt something like lust. It disappeared along with many of my other bodily needs when I decided to subsist entirely on my mana. With a gasp she stretches out her entire body raising her arms above her head, arching her back, extending her wings and her legs. She holds the pose for a moment before collapsing back into the sarcophagus.

To be so theatrical before even waking up – truly she is a succubus.

Turning away I channel my detection magic once more. This time broadening its scope to include any demon loyal to me and significantly boosting the power I put into it – using a proper magical Rune Formation to guide my power this time to ensure its effectiveness. A bit of a risk actually, with this much magic it will probably cover the whole of Artas, the continent the demon race calls home, and maybe even attract attention from any powerful magic user on said continent. After roughly two seconds I have created and charged the optimal rune formation released it and triggered the spell.

Disappointingly it doesn't detect anyone except the succubus behind me. I wonder if maybe I should widen the parameters again – merely search for any demon – typically I would hesitate to do such a thing because the feedback from millions of “hits” from a detection spell is obnoxious. Gives me a headache. First I give up on my sleep and now I risk a headache. What is the world coming to? Thinking so morosely I almost begin to cast the spell when the succubus interrupts me. She clambers out of her sarcophagus, her movements only a tiny bit stiff.

“Hey” She calls out, walking towards me “What's going on here? What happened with the Blood Cauldron? Did we succeed… ” I turned to look at her and her words trail off when she sees my face. Her breath catches in her throat and she sharply inhales. With practiced movements she drops to her knees hands pressed together into a “V” shape against her forehead.

“Goddess.” She murmurs. Her words spoken in a language I recognize, one of the many my servants have spoken over the years – it feels like one of the more recent ones but I can't say for sure.

Looking down at the kneeling succubus I think about correcting her. I knew my people revered me but I am not a God. In the first place what kind of demon worships a God? But really it doesn't matter if I am her God or her Lord I will expect her service either way. Plus correcting her seems troublesome. There are more important things to do right now anyway.

“You. Can you cast magic?” I ask.

“Yes Goddess, I am capable of casting up to the eighth circle of magic.” She replies, her tone clipped and nervous.

“Then cast a magic to detect any living demon on Artas.” I immediately try to force my work on her.

She looks up at me, her expression slightly incredulous. I meet her gaze evenly and she flinches away – apparently unwilling to look her “Goddess” in the eye. Casting her eyes downward her next words are low.

“M-my deepest apologies Goddess, I do not have the power to blanket the entire continent in my magic and even if I did … the backlash would…”

“The backlash would?” I prompt her.

“…Kill me.” She says the two words in a whisper.

“That's absurd, you have my blessing, how could any amount of magical strain kill you? And what do you mean you don't have the power? Again you have my blessing. You can simply draw on my power to work your magic if you feel your own reserves aren't equal to the task.”

Now she's looking up at me again with confusion evident on her face. So I reach down and touch her forehead. Tracing her tattoo with my finger.

“You feel it right? It should be resonating with my power right now because of the proximity. Just grab that power and use it, if you can't find it on your own just pulse your mana at me to create the resonance. Practice that until you can use the bond without it – it would be irritating if you need to pulse mana at me at all hours of the day.”

“B-but Goddess-”

“I gave you my blessing. That's what it's for, so use it.” I cut her off. After all that was the whole point wasn't it? I entrust my power to my trusted … hehe … servants so they can use it on my behalf? Do the work I don't want to do?

The succubus fell silent. Looking down at her hands. After a moment she balls them into fists and looks back up at me with a strange resolution in her eyes before nodding.

“By your will, Goddess.”

I want to sigh. I knew dealing with people would be annoying but this … What is she getting all resolute for?

Then she started muttering in broken High Demonic. “...by mine will... cast fourth the grand net... to... locate... the hakarim...” and on and on. I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow while I look at her, unsure exactly what it is she is doing. Well I can sense the mana swirling and condensing around her and feel her drawing on our bond to borrow my strength so obviously what she's doing is casting the spell. Using a verbal component to guide the spell and forgoing a rune formation entirely it seems. A terribly inefficient way to cast magic. Her consumption is many times what it needs to be and the strain of channeling so much mana on her body is evident from the sweat rolling down her face. She is indeed weak and not properly educated in magic I conclude. But she is also the only servant I have on hand, so I will have to make do. Even if I am moving to save the world I shouldn't have to get too personally involved right? Maybe there will even be time for naps?

The process drags out for a bit until, finally, with a final muttered word she finishes the spell. Raising her left hand above her head she snaps her fingers and a shudder runs through her body as all of her personal mana is used and the remainder is taken from our bond. I can feel the mana explode out from her body, tearing through her arm as it goes. She gasps and her arm drops, bleeding but otherwise intact, suddenly losing all her mana causes her legs to collapse out from under her. Before she can fall face-first into the floor I step forward and catch her against my chest.

“Idiot girl.” I mummer pressing my lips against the tattoo on her forehead “If you are going to draw on my power anyway there is no need to drain yourself completely.” Carefully feeding mana into her through my lips I repair the damage done by the mana she was unable to control, paying special attention to her left arm which she nearly destroyed “Your control was terrible. If you plan to call yourself my chosen you must not destroy yourself with your own spells. In the future use a Rune Formation to guide the mana for such large-scale magic.” Obviously. I leave that unsaid “Were you showing off or something?”

After I finish healing her I try to separate our bodies but she clings to me. Head down, face buried in my breasts she hugs me tightly. She's crying. It's obvious because she's clinging to me so tightly, her whole body is shuddering and shivering. I'm not sure why. She shouldn't be injured anymore. But I do have a duty to her, as she is my servant, so I wrap my arms around her to return the embrace. She doesn't seem able to stand so I carefully slide us down into a sitting position – my back pressed against the sarcophagus she just emerged from. I gently stroke her trembling back. When she moves it's not away, rather she pulls herself into my lap and curls up still letting out tearful sobbing noises.

“G-g-goddess forgive me.” She chokes out. “I-I did manage to cast t-the spell b-but it detected no one. J-just you. And me.” Then she devolves back into incomprehensible wailing.

Unsure how to deal with the crying woman, I simply hold her close.