Ithos Vorastrix
In the very heart of the city, brazenly looming over the main square with the clear intention of burying it beneath itself in the future, stood the building of the Wizards' Guild. There were no brave souls daring to challenge the guild for the space yet. Or perhaps there had been some once, but under unclear yet highly alarming circumstances, they very soon disappeared to who-knows-where, and even the memory of the madmen who dared stand in the way of the city's largest magical guild vanished in the shortest possible time. The wizards did not like to joke, and the demons and mutants serving them—the terrible creations of Masters Zinchik and Elamash—even less so.
However, in the existence of a wizard (and especially
a demonologist), there had always been some downsides, which the young mages rushing to the guild school completely failed to understand—and Master Zinchik was now experiencing this firsthand. His skin was being roasted, frozen, and sanded down simultaneously. And he was also drowning—drowning in one of the seas of Abyss, seemingly gentle but infinitely cruel in reality. But if that were all… What bothered him most was the stupidity of his own death—and, of course, Xandra, the demoness he had once enslaved, now the rightful owner of his soul, hovering ten meters above the water's surface—who, by the way, did not hesitate to remind him of said stupidity.— Fool… a naive fool, like all you mortals, you call upon us, asking for power, then enslave us and revel in your power, thinking it will last forever… But, fortunately for us, you are mortal, and mortals die quickly and suddenly… cracking your skull on the steps… how stupid… and yet the imp, carrying out your order to repair the stairs, made the steps too slippery and the corners very sharp, violating none of your commands. You lost, Zinchik. And now you are mine. Forever. Welcome, make yourself at home, I will repay you for everything I endured from you.
The succubus's lips twisted into a smirk, more caustic than the infernal sea.
— And what exactly did you endure? — the demonologist groaned, as bewildered as the situation and the body-corroding pain allowed.
Xandra pondered—indeed, off the top of her head, it would be hard to say what exactly this little human had done to her. Of course, he had pulled her into the material world—but what demon doesn't dream of getting there? He allowed her to have fun (or rather, simply didn't care what she did as long as her help wasn't needed), and he didn't overload her with tasks either…
Away with foolish thoughts, you've lived among humans too long. You are a demon, and demons exist to do evil. With a reason, and without.
It would, of course, have been much easier for him to let himself drown, but by some law of nature, even in this nightmare, he wanted to live. Or at least survive. The wizard suspected he wouldn't be allowed to die a second death, at least not until the demoness grew tired of her new toy.
Suddenly, the demoness froze in the air, her face taking on a detached expression—all this, as far as the master could judge, meant that someone had established telepathic contact with his tormentor—apparently sending her to carry out some task in the upper world, which meant he would be left alone, at least for a little while… Reality, however, as always, deceived and surpassed his expectations.
— Someone considers you a promising figure… and they were not thrilled about your death. Rejoice, toy, it seems you've been given a second chance, demons rarely give such gifts! But we still have some time to have fun…
— Oh, what an impolite hostess I am, not treating my guest! — the winged beauty suddenly flustered, pulled an apple from somewhere, took a bite, and threw it at the demonologist, giving him a huge bruise on his forehead. In the current situation, this was the least of his worries—much worse was that he couldn't cope with the ocean sucking him deeper. Zinchik felt himself choking again. Liquid ice flowed into his throat, freezing his body and limbs, and a bubble of air escaped from somewhere deep in his lungs. "It's over.
Of course, she deceived me to give me a drop of hope before death," decided the former great wizard, and then his foot hit the bottom, tiled with blue…
At the edge of the pool, where the master had gone to relax an hour ago after his unrighteous labors (and whose stairs were still stained with his, Zinchik's, blood), stood Xandra, lightly levitating the apple back to herself with movements of her index finger.
— What? What was that?! — the demonologist asked, slightly dazed and not fully recovered from coughing, as he climbed onto dry land.
— There are dreams, Zinchik, just dreams… and then there are not just dreams… — the winged one answered with a soft smirk and suddenly sharply added — SIT!
There was something in that last word—the mage felt his legs buckling against his will, and a second later the command was carried out—though no one forbade the master from speaking, which threatened to become a fatal mistake—with the rumble of magical words, an arrow of black flame shot from the wizard's hands, with enough power to incinerate half the city's inhabitants—but the demoness merely winced slightly when the spell touched her skin.
— You see, you are powerless. Accept it.
— I'd rather die than be a slave to my own demon!
— Shall I remind you what awaits you after death? Besides, the lords of Abyss have certain hopes for you, and I cannot allow you to leave without fulfilling them… I understand perfectly what you're feeling—don't worry, you treated me well while I was in your power, and I will repay you in kind.
The succubus leaned over the sorcerer, looking him in the eyes with genuine sympathy… and suddenly struck his back sharply with her tail while hissing DON'T MOVE AND BE QUIET!
— As for some innocent amusements I enjoy—a predatory smile flashed across the devilishly beautiful face—I think you'll soon learn to find pleasure in them… we'll start the training now… oh no, your guild master is summoning you… you won't tell him about this little story, will you?
But the demoness never got an answer—rejoicing at the reprieve and the chance to escape this nightmare, the demonologist vanished into a portal.