Stern eyes parse through the text written on the hovering scroll. Scowl deepening, he turns and leers at the bowed Demon. “And this is what she’s accomplished?”

  “Yes, Lord. I got it personally from our spies. They retrieved it from the Queen’s personal lair,” the humanoid Blood Orange Demon reports.

  Calridian, the shapeshifting minor Demon, narrows his eyes at the text, a vexed snarl escaping his wrinkled bat face. “There’s barely any difference from what I’m crafting now... seems the Queen isn’t too far off.”

  He growls, “The only thing that concerns me is how long she’s been working on it. She’s far more skilled than I am. I’d hoped for some time before she reached my level.”

  “Lord, if I may? I don’t think we should worry about her too much.”

  Calridian, growling, rumbles, “You think she’s weak? Weaker than our forces?”

  “I wouldn’t say weaker, Lord, but... we are better equipped. As I’ve said, we have the advantage of numbers and better fighters and weapons.”

  Calridian scoffs. “You miss the point of my recent endeavors and their significance, Eveal.”

  His minion shrinks, enough panic racing through it that its thoughts soak out into Calridian’s prying mind. Calridian sets the scroll down, releasing it from his telekinetic grip and turns to the sprawled, wet, bloody pieces of the Dawern.

  “She’s only a step behind now. If that spellwork is correct, she’s only missing a medium to focus the spell’s Key. And what better medium than ichor?”

  Eveal gasps, four bead black eyes snapping to the Dawern. “The Dawern’s ichor?”

  “Exactly, Eveal. It’s the best for this tier of spell crafting. With it, she’ll be able to cast and craft powerful Spells, and with much less effort. We have the Dawern in its entirety—what’s the one spell we’ve been yearning for?”

  It takes Eveal less than a second to adopt a wide grin and brimming pride for his master’s genius. “You mean it?”

  It’s not often Calridian smiles, but since Gerim brought back that Faithless Demon he’s been smiling a lot more. He does so now as well, confirming his minion’s suspicions. “Yes, Planar Travel.”

  For decades and perhaps even a century Calridian’s thirst to rise beyond his station has gone unsated. At first he tried to obtain the knowledge required to uplift himself, the spell to fuse Blood Orange Crystals into Maroon, but that was overreaching.

  Having the knowledge to do so wouldn’t fix the gross amount of Essence the very layer retook for its own, a tax for living upon every Demon in Reais. The patience required to reach Dark Red with the abhorrent amount of power lost is nonexistent within Calridian, especially with the Queen’s continuous challenge and the Demon Lord’s growing demands.

  “Lord, will you send me in on your behalf?” Eveal’s eagerness to prove himself rolls out of the deepest corners of his heart. The Demon is one of the few Calridian finds loyal, one of the few he can rattle on about his plans for domination without fear of betrayal.

  Calridian doesn’t answer right away, letting his minion stew in its own excitement and curiosity. “No, Eveal, I need you here in case she tries something.”

  Eveal’s grin fades. “In case she tries something? You think she might try to attack?”

  Calridian shakes his head; loyal as the Demon is, he’s far from the brightest among the ranks. “No, she wouldn’t bother with an attack, neither of us can anyway. This is a race, Eveal. Whoever unlocks the secret to Planar Travel first will be far too busy conquering the new worlds to bother with the Demons of this layer.”

  Calridian’s grin grows at the thought of bypassing the Demon Lord. Such arcane knowledge would win the Demon Lord’s favor, but sucking up has never been a talent of his. Besides, there’s no way the Demon Lord would let him possess such power, not when the Greater Lords of the Fire and Acid Divides still stand—he’d be creating another rival if he did.

  Calridian’s contentment with the Demon Lords’ slow trickle of power is short: having barely grown in half a century irks him. But now, with the Dawern’s ichor and all the spell crafting research, Calridian is ready for a new chapter of his life—his rise to power.

  “We can’t let the Queen beat me to it, Eveal. In fact, we must delay all progress toward her success.”

  Eveal, the four-eyed bipedal Warrior Demon, picks himself up from his kneeling position, twirling a long spear between his three fingers. “I’m ready, Lord, give me a target!”

  “At the moment the Queen is still the Queen, and I can’t risk the benefits of our current arrangement. But if you’re so eager, Eveal, why don’t you increase the monitors we have on her?”

  Eveal nods, “Yes, Lord.”

  With a flick of his wrist, Calridian summons a portal to the Queen’s location. Eveal steps through without a word, grateful to be rid of the stress of traveling across the desert. The portal snaps out of existence behind him, leaving Calridian to prepare.

  He bounds across the lair, his towering ape-tentacled figure shrinking. Masses of thick, long, spiked limbs condense into a new form. Now a bright-looking man of tough physique, the muscles in his arms bulge and shift as he tucks them behind his back.

  His hands brush against the waist-length hair on his head and he tilts forward, sprouting extra arms and packs the streaked black and whites across his shoulders. With a clap of these hands, the empty white stairs circling the wide lair begin to part and a path leading into a room is revealed.

  The stairs scratch against the corners, startling many of the little crawlers sifting through and arranging his ever-growing mess as he struts in. The room itself is much larger than Calridian ever needed, but it was made several centuries ago when he first created a [Domain] and founded the city. He’s dealt with what was a rash choice at the time in stride, ever torn between changing the space and leaving it as a reminder of how weak he used to be—how gullible he was.

  Calridian reaches the end of the stairs, pausing at the edge of the wide-open space. It is a place of order, the only space in his domain that is. Every inch of the room is perfectly organized, from the Crystal jars and vials, to the books lining the shelves, to the glass tank filled with fluid and a few exotic Demons. It is a place of calm, a place where he can focus on the task at hand.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  A place where he can fall into himself once again.

  It’s been a long while since he’s taken this form, his original skin. He’d long discarded it after founding the city and entering the Demon Lord’s court as a General. The power he wields remains ever imposing, even in this smaller form, but for some reason respect was a difficult thing to find within the court.

  Calridian catches his reflection in the tall glass panels of his experimental aquarium and smiles as lost memories resurface at the sight of his long, pointed ears. He walks to the tank, pulling himself up on the side of the glass, staring down into the water.

  The aquatic Demons hiss and snap at him; they are the most dangerous of the lot. He’d tried to make pets out of them once, but their intelligence proved too great and he had to kill them all before they could escape. Now they’re his test subjects, his reluctant minions and experiments.

  “Bring in the Dawern,” he mutters and levitates one of the Demons from their tank. Outside the room his many crawlers snap to work, coordinating to lift the heavy pieces of the Dawern.

  While Calridian gathers the rest of the materials needed to complete his spell, the crawlers drag the pieces of the Dawern into the room. They set it down, placing it on a raised platform at the center of the room.

  Calridian steps forward and the crawlers disperse at his feet. With a beckoning gesture, a deep Blood Orange Crystal rises from the pile and zips toward his awaiting hand.

  With the aquatic Demon out of its habitat, it flops onto the floor, shaking violently as it tries to right itself. Calridian lets the Crystal hover before him, shutting his eyes to dig deep within himself.

  Letting out a tense breath, he makes the choice to destroy the Crystal. At this level it wouldn’t give him much strength, especially with Reais’ tax. The Crystal shudders in place as cracks begin to run throughout its frame.

  As Essence begins to leak and pour out of it, Calridian hums a tune. “Aa aa, mm mm, aa aa, mm mm.” The Crystal continues to crack and shudder with every hum, leaking more and more Essence.

  At this Calridian adds the next, delicate Key required. “Mm mm, jaiu yuai, aa aa, ksee bakin.”

  The reaction is immediate—the Crystal crackles and spasms. It bursts apart, spilling a thick cloud of red and orange that partly obscures Calridian’s vision. The cloud seeps into the air, taking on a life of its own, moving and dancing.

  He continues humming, his voice growing stronger and more powerful. He raises his hand and parts the cloud of Essence in two, mixing large amounts of mana with the motion.

  “Aa aa, mm mm, har chek, har mel.” At the next Key, the bloody slice of Dawern on the platform twitches violently, one part of the cloud seeps into the piece, and the twitching worsens.

  Calridian takes another breath, letting his voice grow stronger still. “Kte bak, shi teng, aa aa, mm mm.”

  The piece of Dawern continues to twitch, its ichor pooling around it, mixing with the cloud and forming a sickening red goo. The Minor Lord hums, “Mm mm, oi nag, oi nag, mm mm,” and the aquatic Demon is raised into the air, possessed by the second half of the cloud.

  Calridian huffs and prepares himself for the hardest part yet, the part he’s been stuck on for decades now. With the Dawern’s rich ichor this hurdle should be easier to clear. He focuses, drawing on his mana and Essence.

  “Aa aa, mm mm, har chek, har mel.” He begins to hum, “Kte bak, shi teng, aa aa, mm mm.”

  The lair rumbles, the atmosphere thick with the energy of the spell. With the force of his combined mana and Essence, Calridian pushes the two together until the transforming aquatic Demon resides in the dark red goo. Its life ends immediately as crackling forces pull it apart, blending and dissolving it within the goo.

  A final time he hums, “Kte bak, shi teng, aa aa, mm mm.”

  With a loud boom, the goo expands, stretching across in a wide oval shape radiating the energy, the life of a new, untouched Realm. Calridian huff and pants, grinning as he basks in the blue light beaming through the new portal.

  [Spell Unlocked: Planar Travel; Ire Realms]

  [Ire Realms— Unclaimed, Contested Mortal Realm]

  “I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he yells with excitement.

  His eyes turn to the rest of the room, a wave of satisfaction washing over him and his crawler servants. They chirp and squeal, sharing his excitement. It was a long time coming, but he did it. He’s finally made the connection to the Mortal Realm... or at least, one of them.

  At last, a Realm obeying different laws. He glances over to the pile of Crystals gathered in his layer, their value suddenly increased. If Reais’ influence over Essence is mitigated or even nullified in different Realms, then he can finally absorb them for their worth. He’d become Dark Red—no, Blood Red before long.

  And then... he’d conquer and be worshipped. Attain divinity and... and... Calridian pulls back, his grin splitting wide now. “Bwhahahahahah!”

  There’s so much more power to be had.

  Tentatively, he steps forward, an arm stretched out to pierce the tense veil of the portal and set out into the new world he’s set to conquer. Little sparks of lightning arc off it and his fingers as he reaches. It tickles, but Calridian doesn’t find any of what happens next funny. Again, he pushes his hand out, poking at the veil, but only sparks streak off of it.

  [!!!]

  [Contested Mortal Realm!]

  [Minor Connection— Nil]

  [Greater Connection— Nil]

  He can’t get through.

  “No… no… NO!” he yells, the sudden loss of hope crushing him. “Why? Why! I have to get through!” He grits his teeth, clenching his fists and flexing his fingers, trying to push past the veil.

  And he does. His arm spears through the portal, destabilizing it. He screams and leaps back, looking at the portal with horror.

  The portal is gone.

  “No… no… NOOOOO!” he yells, and stomps, creating a large crater in the ground. The crawlers chirp and squeal, jumping around in circles. Calridian grumbles and turns to them, glaring down at them.

  “Get out of here, you filthy creatures.”

  He walks away from the hole he made and sits on the ground, rubbing his face.

  He should have known. This is still Reais—nothing will ever be easy, nothing will ever be given on a silver platter. He was foolish to think otherwise.

  The crawlers continue to chatter, squealing and chirping, running about in circles. They’re too stupid to understand the danger they’re in.

  Calridian huffs. “Well, I’ll just have to go another way.”

  In hindsight it makes sense: of course it makes sense. There’s no way there aren’t systems or tough requirements to be met when moving to other Realms. Especially for beings of his level crossing into a Mortal Realm. He chuckles slightly, shaking his head.

  Of course he’d have to do things the hard way.

  But it shouldn’t be too bad, it only means he’ll once again have to rely on the capabilities of weaker creatures. Besides, all he requires is a minor connection to the Realm, something strong enough to tether his power... his demonic Essence to.

  Over the course of his years, he’s watched Demon Lords and heard of the cults formed in other planes in worship of their name... worship. Yes, the power of faith will of course be the thing to release him from Reais.

  “But how do I get mortals to worship me?”

  He’s thought about it before; in fact, every Demon aware of the powers that lie with faith has. The thought of becoming a Deity, of being venerated. He’s already got some ideas, there’s always the path of fear... but mortals, they enjoy being taken care of.

  He’s barely gotten anywhere with his musings when he hears the large doors creak open and a minion calls out, “Lord…? Lord?”

  “What is it!” he snaps from within the sequestered and partly destroyed secret room.

  The minion falters, unnerved by the clear tinge of displeasure thickening the atmosphere. “Uh, there’s someone here for you, a Demon calling itself Nil. The Human-looking one.”

  Calridian huffs. “Probably coming to tell me they’ve failed the Spell. Gerim was right, they are weak.”

  The minion hesitates but corrects his assumption nonetheless, “Uh, they’re here to give you your share of the winnings, as well as take theirs.”

  This brings pause and an unsure look to Calridian. “Winnings?”

  “The pit, Lord. Nil won the Crimson Royale.”

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