Authors note:

Phew, barely made it.

It's a short one today, and I am throwing out every last word I have written thus far, meaning I've got plenty of stuff to work on tomorrow.

Word count

This chapter: 1684 (Barely scraping by the daily standard)

Total: 5273

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The demon known as the king of all demons was about three-imps tall. Shiny white horns extruded from the forehead arching upwards to completely vertical. he held a golden, flaming trident in his one hand, and a double bladed axe in the other. His black hoofs made small bump sounds as he slowly turned around, revealing his devilish grin.

“What have brought you here in person, king of imps? I thought you were busy sending new hatchlings here to die?”

“Me have come to topple your regime!”

“You and what army?”

“Me and… Him!” Thu’khol’laad pointed directly at Aitken, who responded merely by peeking around warily.

“We just need the pendant to control the eye, that is all.” Aitken said.

“This pendant symbolizes the power of the demon king… and you expect me to simply give it to you?”

Aitken scratched his neck. “Yeah..? Well, I can give you some potatoes for it?”

The demon king frowned. “Potatoes? Have you lost your mind?”

“What if I pop them?”

“Me think that’s a good deal! Take it!”

The demon king sighed. In a flash, he stood in front of Thu’khol’laad. “I will have a conversation with this imp. Alone.” A hoof thundered through the air, and Thu’khol’laad flew several imp-heights into the air, only to glide down towards Aitken. Like an aerial supply drop, Thu’khol’laad dropped off the third, head-sized potato to Aitken. He then continued gliding by, headed towards the vast open plains. “Good luck, Zagmar! You are the chosen one! Use the potato as a last-resort bribe!”

Aitken’s eyes widened. “What. The. Heck?”

The demon king smirked. “Let me explain. I have a deal with the king of imps - I get food, and he won’t be killed… Perhaps he thinks you can do the same with a simple potato?”

“So.. that means I’m food?”

“Yes and no… If you are strong enough, I will recruit you. Just like the gatekeeper - he too, was once and imp drafted by Thu’khol’laad.”

“Recruit? To what end?”

“I am gathering forces to fight the angels, of course… What worth is a title of king, if you can’t even make a proper little invasion?”

I just have to get strong enough to beat this devil, and I will become the king myself… Hmmm..

“Your little fight has nothing to do with me. I want no part of it” Aitken responded.

“That’s a pity - I would have granted you a pendant that could stop the summoning… And all you had to do, is to destroy an angel… Or rather, a half angel. He goes by the name of Ramiel.”

Aitken’s eyes grew wide. “Ramiel… The leader of the church of light…”

“So you do know him?”

Aitken clenched his fist and narrowed his eyes. “If you can send me to Aitken, I will destroy him for you.”

The demon king smirked, and summoned forth a pendant in his right hand, which he threw to Aitken.

“Then I shall send you to-”

Aitken suddenly felt a faint tinkling feeling - as if an imp was summoned a thousand paces away, yet the demon king's lips spread in a smirk.

“That’s great timing… Now I won’t even have to spend much power - a witch is doing it all for me… Just hope you end up in the right time and place.” The demon king grabbed his own pendant with his right hand, and closed his eyes briefly. He turned around with a deep laughter.

"What?"

Aitken felt the tingling feeling grow to the point he started feeling restless and anxious. The eye from above shone its light down on him.

A chunk of the obsidian from the volcano started floating, dragging Aitken along. He flapped his wings, but didn’t move even a hairsbreadth. After which he simply grabbed the head-sized potato that was levitating next to him.

“Alas, poor potato! It would seem you got caught up in all this.” … “INERTIA Go!” he threw the potato with all his might, only to have it float about half an arm's length away, still leaving himself fixed in the place.

He sighed deeply.

I guess I can only hope to end up in the right place at the right time.

With that, he grabbed the potato. If I’m in the middle of a desert or something stupid, I want a last-ditch ration of food with me, at least.

Aitken and his floating island approached the eye. An uncanny smell of rot met him as he approached the top. A faint ticking noise, as well as a quiet whisper - sounding as if someone was chanting in the distance.

Aitken swallowed his spit and peeked directly at the eye, as he felt the small island stop in its tracks, just two imp-heights under the eye.

The purple eye stared him down - as if the round black pupil was inspecting his very soul. A gentle purple light illuminated the entire mini-island which he floated above.

A salty smell suddenly met him, as if the eye itself was about to cry.

a large drop gathered in front of the eye.

No! NO! You are not gonna cry on me! that's ju-

Splosh.

A large round droplet engulfed Aitken, before he was suddenly sucked into the blackness of the pupil.

As Aitken vanished into the blackness, the small island, he was sucked up with, came tumbling down.

Aitken was floating in blackness, when small sparks of light flew by. Together they materialized into a picture. The picture contained a dark haired man stabbing a large hydra. From that picture, the amount of pictures grew exponentially.

After a moment, the pictures had duplicated to the point that everywhere he looked he saw the pictures. The faint ticking noise from before grew deafening, and an array of smells hit his nose. Each noise fit to its own picture - some as simple as the smell of red wine, and some the smell of a thousand rotting carcasses getting chopped up on a battlefield… Then the noises came - the noises of a hundred thousand people yelling, crying, laughing and talking at the same time. Aitken couldn’t understand a single thing, except for the constant overlaying ticking noise.

Aitken’s eyes darted around, as he flapped his wings in vain.

Then he heard a voice - at first it was quiet as a whisper.It was a female voice, but unlike the rest of the voices floating about, the words were intelligible. “Come to me” they echoed gently. Aitken started helplessly floating in the direction from which they came.

A single smell started taking over, covering up the others. It was the smell of a pine forest - much like the one he had played in when he was a (human) child.The female voice grew stronger - no longer simply a whisper. “I summon thee, demon of demons.”

A single picture grew stronger and stronger, and Aitken felt a strong temperature drop, as if a cold wind had just swept by.

The picture was a dark-green pine forest, and in a small opening containing green grass was a lady dressed in a black dress. The dress was rather simplistic - the only things of notice was the sleeves widened in the end and the belt buckle formed a perfect square with a hole in the middle.

The top of the dress almost covered her slim pale neck, and the bottom would probably have almost covered her black flat-heeled boots… if she didn’t hold it above her navel, revealing her short black leggings.

But the things that really stood out to Aitken was a metallic pentacle pendant with a large purple crystal in the middle, which she held tightly in her right hand, and the left hand skewering her own left side with a needle with a wooden handle. The needle was drawing blood from the middle of a pentagram, permanently burned into onto her skin.

(I am pretty bad at drawing, but here it is! yay! Only drawing I will make for you in this story as far as I know.)

“Obey my will” the lady whispered.

Aitkens eyes grew wide. if I’m summoned, does that mean I’m enslaved as well?

Like a fireball from the sky, Aitken struck down, and landed next to the witch.

“Why have you summoned me?” Aitken asked.

The witch frowned. “What? an Imp? out of all the…”

She sighed deeply. “The one of the most powerful demons of its kind… and I forgot to specify which kind…”

Aitken clenched his fist. “Hey! are you listening to me?”

The witch glanced over at Aitken. “Oh, would you shut up with your high-pitched demon-crap, I’m trying to think here!”

“What? You summoned me here for no reason?”

The witch sighed again. “Very well, I’m Rosedriah. And no, I don’t understand your high pitched squealing, so zip it.”

“Come along, Imp. I hope you are useful in a fight.” She waved her hand arbitrarily.

So she doesn't understand me? I'm talking gibberish?

Aitken peeked around, and suddenly his eyes shot up like a lightning bolt. I recognize this place… It’s near Dragonsbreath? mom, dad… sis Akane… The cure!

It all came back to Aitken, and in an instant, he had made up his mind. Aitken stared at Rosedriah for a brief moment, before leaping at her with the ferocity of a wild animal.

Rosedriahs eyes grew wide in surprise, but she quickly latched her hand onto her pentacle-pendant and yelled “Stop!”

In that moment, Aitken felt he hit an invisible wall, as all his momentum disappeared in an instant, leaving him to the mercy of gravity.

Rosedriah frowned. “You’re quite the stupid one, aren’t you? I have full control over you.”

Aitken clenched his teeth. I have to get the cure in a hurry! Maybe there is still time!

Aitken thought for a second, then he looked down at the skull-sized dark potato he had brought along from Damnation.

You might control me… But… What if I ...

Aitken grabbed the potato in one hand and spun around himself once.

“GO, Potato of darkness! Save the day!”

With a mighty thrust, the potato flew straight at the witch, who only managed to widen her eyes in shock.

Slam!

Rosedriah fell to the ground, and Aitken dashed over and snatched her pendant from her neck, as well as his potato.

Aitken ran with all his might towards the woods, he was somewhat familiar with them, so he was confident he could outrun the witch for now.

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Thanks for reading!