The lust imp doesn't stick around after your dismissal, vanishing out of your door within minutes. You take a minute to compose yourself.

Something about her rubs you the wrong way. You're not sure exactly what, but some combination of her sexual references, her open service to another and her damned too intelligent eyes makes you shudder.

The door closes with a pleasantly final thump, cutting her out of your life for now. With that situation postponed, if not sorted, you return to your latest minions. They finally seem to be winding down their feast, their appetites culled more by the presence of the other demon than by the quantity of food they've wheedled from Charlemagne you imagine.

You sit with them as small chunks of dark bread are used to soak up the last of the stew, conversation impossible through their stuffed mouths, and you time your question so as to avoid any unfortunate coughing fits.

“What happened to your last boss?”

The imps exchange glances. Luss tugs on his hair before responding.

“Well, oh dark one, our previous employer unfortunately changed the terms of employment in such a way that we felt cutting and running would be a smart move.”

Ziff takes over, resting his chin on his palm as he speaks.

“Years of service thrown away like it meant nothing. I was slated for consideration of promotion at one point, although I don't think Fexy ever really remembered that he said that. One track mind, he had.”

Your ears prickle. “'Fexy'? As in Carnifexia?”

The imps exchange another look, before nodding. You reel.

“You worked for the Hungering King?”

They nod again. You blink several times to try and refocus. Carnifexia had been introduced a few updates ago, the gods deciding that the Heroes needed something to work together to overcome. He reshaped the world, literally devouring a small country. His legions never got too close to you and your lair, and he was eventually forced into containment, but he was still a major part of history. Sometimes particularly brave or stupid heroes could visit his sealed realm and attempt to carve magical items from his hide but few succeeded. And now you've taken on some imps who used to work for him.

You stole from the King of Greed.

Luss speaks after it becomes clear this news has shaken you. “It's not like you think, oh lord of flame. Hunger demons have a very direct hierarchy. Ol' Fexy ate the last boss and anyone who didn't work for him, so we worked for him. Everyone wins – he got labour, we didn't get eaten. It's not like he hand picked us or anything.”

“What exactly did he do to convince you that running from The Carnifex was a good idea? How in gods names am I going to keep your being here secret? We are not equipped to fight a demon king!”

Ziff waves his hands placatingly. “No, no it's nothing like that don't worry. After he ate the rest of management there's not really enough thinking power to track us down. They weren't exactly the smartest bunch beforehand anyway. We decided we didn't really want a part of that so left. Doubt any of them even noticed to be honest.”

Luff nods, ears flapping. “Non of them were that good at long term planning your worshipfulness. It's a downside of the whole 'eat your boss become the boss' thing we have going on. Breeds for impulsiveness and a dislocatable jaw. Afterwards, they were all rather rage-monster to engage with whatever thinking they had left. Bit odd for a disease called-”

Your stomach hits the floor and you breath the word at the same time as Luff does.

“Tranquillity.”

The imp looks pleased. “That's the one boss. You've heard of it then? Nasty stuff isn't it? Not a fan of that getting in me at all. Hope someone figures out a cure sooner than later. Not that we'd abandon you if that happened, oh King of Drakes. We're ...”

Your ears are ringing. His voice fades away, cut out by the droning of ragged wings. A foul stench on the wind makes your stomach rebel. It takes an effort of will greater than you realised you had to force your mind back to the present. The imps are silent, looking at you with apparent worry. Charlemagne is behind them, one hand on his knife.

Slowly, very slowly, you lick your lips and meet their concerned gazes.

“No. No it's not very nice at all.”

You've barely heard anything about the Tranquil Plague since your adventure to gather fame by visiting a human town. Then the goblins from the forest. And now imps, running from a World Boss, a demon on par with the Stonecrusher Wurm above you.

And there is no cure. Because it isn't a disease.

A tiny, quiet notification comes from your menu, as if it's trying to see how little noise it can make.

You open it, surprised. Your menu settled down after that strange period of constant messages and errors. But you have a feeling, looking at the message with a feeling of pure dread, that maybe whatever happened isn't as over as you thought.

It's a quote, taken from some book you've never read.

And should the gods become bored with their creations,

The rest of the quote is cut away. The message itself is flaking around the edges, tiny pinpricks of red light eating away at it even as you watch.

And then it's gone.