Olf the Great sat hid in his washroom sipping herbal tea. Hiding. He, the all-powerful emperor was hiding. The thought tormented him no less than the runs he’s been suffering from for the past seven days. He hardly ate anything, yet his stomach complained every hour. He could regulate his clock by the frequency of his visits in the loo. It came to the point that instead of going back to bed he gave up and just sat on his porcelain throne for the rest of the night. In the morning, a messenger came and brought him fresh news. Out of the ten summoned heroes, four died, one went missing, three refused to fight and the remaining two were nowhere near ready to fight the ancient horror.

“My lord?”

“What do you want John, can’t you see I’m busy farting away my life?”

“That I can smell, my lord. The scouts have returned. I thought you should know. “

“And?”

A tiny sliver of hope lit up in the emperor’s eyes.

“They failed. It’s wounded but still alive. It went deeper into the mines. The alchemists believe it went into hibernation to recover its wounds.”

Olf’s hope died as soon as he heard that.

“How long?”

“Given what we know from the past records, my lord, their sacrifice bought us another year. Maybe two if they damaged its heart. In that case it will seek out a mana vein and nest there until it recovers its power. Then it will come for the rest of us.”

The emperor hung his head as his bowels made a resounding response to words of his butler.

“Summon new heroes. Use those that remained to delay that thing for as long as possible.”

“My lord, those people lack the will to fight. They won’t listen.”

“Then make them listen. Without that annoying brat to protect the rest, just drug their food and enslave them. They’re useless anyway.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“While you’re at it John, organize some combat slaves to search those mines. We’ll flood that thing with fodder. Tire it out. Five hundred thousand slave warriors should earn us another year at least if they can’t kill it. “

***

This is going to be so nice!

Occupying the newly replaced table, Esme sat with a content smile on her face. She had done her job. She had planted a seed of a new and exciting story. All that left was to wait and enjoy the fruits of her labor.

She chuckled to herself, hoisting another bite of her chocolate cake to her mouth. She loved good sweets just like she loved a good story.

Hmm?

Why is it so dark out here? Huh? Where did all the people go? Odd. This caffe has never been this empty before. It almost felt deserted. No, wait. With her golden spoon still inside her mouth, Esme’s head swiveled left and right, scanning her surroundings. She was alone. At noon? In the busiest heavenly district? Oy, something fishy was going on.

“Wha…”

With her golden spoon hanging precariously from her mouth, the goddess stared at the heavenly candle burning on her table. It flickered and sputtered as if the everlasting flame itself that burned in this candle, was trying to hide from something.

Fascinated, Esme watched as the little tongue of light shrunk and shrunk until it vanished and impenetrable darkness swallowed her and everything around her.

Within that unyielding darkness, a soft whisper tickled Esme’s ear.

“You should have not played with someone else possessions, little one. Did no one teach you it is impolite to do so without permission?”

“W-who a-are y-you?”

Esme’s body trembled, overpowered by a force she could not resist.

“Me? Oh, you don’t even know, little one?”

A bone chilling chuckle came from all around her and all at once while a dark tentacle wrapped itself around the trembling goddess.

“I am The Devourer and Joe is mine.”