A demonic-looking castle loomed above a jagged crag. Its walls, hewn from blackened stone, stood scared but unbroken, they’d weathered countless Crusades and would weather many more. Cruel iron spikes jutted from its edges, menacing barbs thirsty for the flesh of trespassers. The air felt heavy with something beyond the physical, a suffocating aura that whispered of unseen things slithering just beyond the darkened castle walls.

  Above, the sky churned in restless torment. An endless shroud of grey clouds swallowed the heavens, their bloated forms dripping an unceasing drizzle onto the land below. No lightning to shatter the gloom, no thunder to break the silence – only the slow, miserable patter of rain against the craggy earth. The sky pressed down like the lid of a coffin, sealing this forsaken place in a prison of mist and melancholy.

  Gargoyles crouched upon their perches, their grotesque faces frozen mid-snarl, their empty eyes drinking in the wretched realm below. And what a realm it was – lifeless, barren, suffocated under an eternal pall of sorrow. No golden fields, no whispering meadows, only the cracked and starved earth, beaten down by a century of cold, clinging wetness. What little vegetation remained had grown twisted and spiteful – thorned brambles that bore no fruit, wretched weeds that curled in upon themselves, sickly and stunted, as though recoiling from the very air.

  This was no ordinary phenomenon. The land wasn’t ravaged by fire, or plague, or roaring tempest. No, this was something far more sinister. Far more darker. A slow, creeping misery that wormed its way into the bones, a dampness that never truly left, a chill that settled in the soul and made its home there. It was an affliction that drained hope, not with horror, but with the unrelenting certainty that tomorrow would be just as bleak as today.

  This was the Demon Lord’s domain. And the spell that smothered it bore a name spoken with weary dread by those who had the misfortune to endure it – the BritishWeather.

  But enough of that.

  If one looked carefully, very carefully, they would see a daredevil squirrel braving the gloom to climb the tallest tower of the castle. It’s tiny claws sticking expertly to the jagged stone, the squirrel making amazing progress. With burning determination, it is scaling the tower.

  But why would a squirrel do something like that? The answer isn’t clearly cut. It might be because this was what squirrels did – climb random heights that is. Or perhaps it sought a safe place to hide its nuts, surely, no one would get them if they were that high. Or maybe, just maybe, it had a higher purpose in mind.

  Either way, the brave daredevil squirrel scaled up all the way to the highest window, hoping to rest on its stone ledge.

  “Meep-Meep!” The daredevil squirrel greeted for it was not alone there.

  “Caw-Caw!” A black craw, its eyes red and glowing like rubies, cawed a formal pleasantry.

  “Chirp!” A tiny spider gave its bestest spider wave.

  The other two critters had made it here first. The squirrel couldn’t help but feel a tinge of envy for the two, the spider was an even better climber, and the craw could fly.

  Wouldn’t it be marvellous if the squirrels could fly too? – Then, no nut or berry would be out of its reach.

  Wouldn’t it be marvellous if the squirrels could spin webs too? – Just think about it! The joys of it!

  If so, squirrels could fly and shoot their threads, aiming for plump berries or delicious acorns to real them back in. they could even make webs to trap delicious bugs – not many knew it, but squirrels enjoyed them too. The mere idea of it was… yummy!

  Regretfully, the squirrel had to stop its daydreaming. Their favourite show is about to start.

  …

  The highest window on the tallest tower let just enough light to illuminate the gloomy Demonic Hall. It was a place not unlike a throne room but for demons. The throne, a grotesque thing of skulls and bone, was vacant. Although there was a man present at the moment – his appearance was predominantly demonic. A big set of thick horns on his temples indicated his high rank as a demon, and his attire, while fashioned out of human leather, was truly a sight to behold.

  The demonic man held a crystal vial in his clawed fingers, no, not just held, cradled it like the most precious treasure. Truthfully, the vial was very expensive and hard to get – a rarity within rarities.

  The demonic man grinned in glee as he eyed the vial with savage hunger. “How long has it been since I had a sip? … Long, too long.” He uncorked the stopper.

  His greedy lips pressed on the vial, he swung it high to down its contents in a single gulp. The sickly sweet liquid touched his tongue. The cloying, gelatinous mass slid down his throat. The taste was out of this world. It tasted like a garden full of sweet fruits, like a dream of his more youthful days, and it reminded him of his first love – distant but not forgotten. It was full of flavours, a rainbow of joy.

  But there was more. So much more.

  His pupils dilated; his entire body shook. For the briefest of moments, he felt connected to a higher power, to a web of… of something incomprehensible. He saw the vastness of the cosmos, its many stars and planes. But also he saw something else… something darker lurking hidden beneath it all.

  There, deep in the void, was a swirling vortex of chaos, multiple souls trapped in its spinning arms. A tendril of darkness reached for him, it tugged at his very soul, trying to pull it inside the swirling vortex, join him in a swirling web of trapped souls.

  That was then…

  “I AM BURSTING!!!” The demonic man screamed an involuntary declaration.

  With those words, as if a binding spell was broken, his body stopped shaking. The grasping tendrils of darkness no longer pulled to steal his soul, but also, he no longer felt that sweet sensation of being in the garden of joy. The paradox of emotions – good mixed with bad – was gone, but the true effects of the potion just took hold.

  [Welcome to Monster System] – a familiar message greeted him.

  Arcane strength coursed through his body, the veins on his muscles bulging. Powerful magic, mysterious and ancient, flooded his demonic blood. It granted him might, force and potential otherwise unreachable. It was different from the plain System, and not just simply more powerful – it unlocked his full potential, granting him possibilities previously unattainable. His status updated with a plethora of exotic Skills and Perks.

  This was the very reason why he managed to climb the demon ranks so quickly. From a mere slave merchant to someone who advised the Demon Lord herself. He was a Demon Advisor, a feat achieved in less than a year.

  Despite the ear-splitting grin, the demonic man made a displeased click. “Tch! Why did I have to yell something so embarrassing…” He couldn’t understand it. “She’ll be here soon. It’s best I compose myself.”

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  He stepped to the side of a vacant demon throne. Waiting there for its tyrannical ruler.

  Not long after, the doors swung open violently, slamming on the wall.

  Here she was, the Demon Lord herself, her mood beyond being sour.

  “Urgh!” She grunted, her face tarnished in a frown.

  She was a demoness of mixed blood, half-fiend and half-succubus:

  She inherited the might from her father, her muscles taunt and hard like rocks. She wielded a supernatural strength, her punches strong enough to pulverise boulders. Her skin, shiny and grey, was strong as tempered metal; spears nor arrows couldn’t pierce it.

  Her charms came from her mother, her body bursting with scandalous femininity. Despite her demonic strength, her frame was slim, chiselled in all the right proportions. Her athletic body was decorated with the most eye-catching set of weapons – voluptuous mounds of tempting softness, both her upper and lower body.

  Her natural gifts allowed her to wear little armour and cloth, and she did just so. The barest of minimums was there to keep her modesty, not that you could call her modest at all. She wore a set best described as bikini armour.

  So yes, she had both Might and Charm and it was quite a combination. This was a mix which allowed her to become the Demon Lord – a position she managed to keep for over a century. She was older than that of course, but it would be rude to point that out.

  Either way, the Demon Lord slumped on the skull and bones throne, her mouth grunting another annoyed grunt.

  “Urgh! … Just tell me already. Tell me the bad news,” she resigned for it, waving her hand.

  Indeed, he had nothing but bad news. It was like this for quite a while.

  “We were unable to penetrate the Sorcerous Forest. The scouts we sent didn’t come back, and the armed party that followed were all wiped out. Well… one of the Oni came back, but he was infected with something foul. His body tainted with Dark magic.”

  “Necromancy?”

  “Not quite. We found a parasitic plant. It was controlling the body like some sort of a puppet, keeping it suspended between death and life. Removing the plant killed the host.”

  “Urgh! The Sorcerous Forest and its foul magic. What a blight it is… Any clue where or how it came to be?”

  “Since none of the scouts returned, it is very hard to tell.” He gave an apologetic bow.

  “That territory. It belonged to the Centauri before they had fallen. Did they, in their bitter defeat, unleash some sort of a curse?”

  “I… I don’t think it’s possible. Centauri aren’t known for their magic, they’re all about lances and duels. And If they had an artefact powerful to cast such magic, we would have known.”

  “Urgh… so what is it? This cancerous blight?”

  “It’s hard to tell, but I assume it’s the work of a powerful sorcerer. Versed both in curses and dark rituals. Perhaps one of your enemies? Any clue of who they might be? That would help in my investigation tremendously.

  “… I have plenty of such enemies. But none who could conjure an entire forest. Urgh! This is so annoying!”

  “I admit it. This is frustrating. But until we penetrate the Sorcerous Forest and get to the centre of it, we won’t know what caused it.

  “Fine, I’ll allow you to borrow one of my legions. If Oni couldn’t do it, leave it to my Fiends.”

  “I am most grateful. I will treat your power with care,” he bowed low.

  “Yeah-yeah. Now… spit it out. What else didn’t work out for us.”

  “…” He paused, recently all he had was bad news. But all those things were important to report. “The Oni Shogunate is wavering. There were multiple reports of unknown Yokai spawning, terrorising their peasants and destroying their fields. With the loss of their Shogun’s army, they are struggling to contain the budding rebellion. I fear if we don’t intervene soon, the Oni Shogunate might fracture.”

  “Well, fuck me!”

  “…”

  “Why is this happening? What is this cursed spell of bad luck!?” The Demon Lord starts to vent in a somewhat childish tantrum. “We fought off the Human Crusade and all was well… I even expanded the Demon Realm. One by one, new races were joying the Demon Realm and my power growing.” She runs her palm over her face, displaying frustration. “Then, everything started to fall apart!”

  She glared at him with blazing anger, but the Demonic Advisor knew it was not directed at him.

  “The Oberon Worm I’ve spurred into action suddenly was slayed, thwarting my plans to recruit the Lamia. The Myconids would have made perfect meat shields for my underground armies, but forget that now. The Mana Spring, I have infected with the dark spirit also was mysteriously cleansed. I would take the pathetic Kobolds as their replacement, but now I can’t. The hordes of Centipedes we sought to tame are preventing us from doing this very thing, flooding our access tunnels as they flee who knows what. Urgh!” She grunted in frustration, clutching her own horns as if trying to rip them.

  After a breath time of grunting and puffing in an undignified manner, failing to rip her horns off, she continues.

  “The reclamation of Centauri territory failed. We even lost access to the Deep Lakes, the Mer and FrogMen within the area. And the Harpies… They are nowhere to be seen, as if they abandoned the Demon Realm altogether. And now… And now the Oni Shogunate is on the brink of collapse. Not to mention this cancerous blight of the Sorcerous Forest! Fuck!” She yells as she tries to rip her horns off again.

  If he didn’t stop her, she might as well succeed. By the way, this isn’t something a demon should ever try to do, that was because their power was stored in the horns. It just proved how frustrated she was.

  “Wait. Hold on…” He said, a spark of realisation budding in his words. “What if… What if all those things are connected?”

  “Connected? How?“

  “Just think about it… When and where did your problems start? And once they started how did they spread?”

  The Demon Lord took her hands off her horns, tilting her head in thought. She was the mightiest and the most charming of all demons, but the intellect wasn’t her forte, hence why the need for him, the Demonic Advisor. He was here to help her think, and he might just know the cause of all of this.

  “Since I haven’t been advising you for long, your problems started when I wasn’t here. As you know, before this I was a merchant, visiting distant lands for mercantile opportunities–”

  “Huh? What are you trying to say? How is this related?” Her face contorts at him.

  “What I was trying to say… Have you heard about this Monster King?”

  “A Monster King?” Her face contorts even further.

  “I thought the man was but a rumour, a joke intended to poke fun at the title of the Demon Lord, a sick play on words that is to say. But you see…” He grasps the crystal vial in his pocket. “The man might be more than real. Actually, I’ve been investigating a personal matter. A source of a certain potion I’m very interested in.”

  “I don’t get what you’re trying to say. Just spit it out!” She makes an angry fist with her right hand, her fiendish side showing.

  “I talking about the Monster King. A sorcerer from the vast area once known as the… the Dreaded Place.”

  “The Dreaded Place?! I know of it... It’s a cursed land. Nothing lives in it.”

  “Apparently not true. It's where this self-proclaimed Monster King hails from. Now think about it. What areas border that cursed land? And around where did your problems start?”

  The black orbs that are the Demon Lord’s eyes grew bigger. “That bastard! He killed my worm, cleansed my spring, and then did all these things!” She was yelling, but her face was stretched in a wide smile, a grin of relief. “It was him! It was him all along! The source of my bad luck!”

  “Yes! It all makes sense when you think about it. He is a sorcerer hailing from that tainted place, so no doubt he knows a thing or two about the curses. Also, he must be versed enough in Dark magic to undo the tainted spell cast on the Mana Spring. Then take into account his self-proclaimed title and it’s clear what he is trying to do.”

  “The bastard is trying to usurp my title!”

  “Precisely. If you look at your troubles in chronological order, at the starting place of it all. The sorcerer, hidden in that lifeless jungle, he was witling at your power from the very beginning. Shaving it piece by piece. I have no doubt that it was he who brought the curse of the Sorcerous Forest into being as well.”

  “How… How outrageous! We must deal with him at once. Take two of my legions! No, three! And deal with that blighted forest he’d spawned. We can’t let his sick power spread any further!”

  “Agreed!” He bows once more.

  “Do it at once! Waste no time!” She waves him off. “…the Monster King, bah!” she utters with disgust, however, her face is all in a twisted grin.

  The Demon Advisor leaves the Demonic Hall with urged steps.

  The entire thing about the Monster King was all but a conjecture. He had no solid proof – there were only rumours and the empty vial in his pocket. However, even if by a bit, he brightened the Demon Lord’s mood. Now she had someone to blame for her bad look. And truthfully, the Demon Advisor believed in the veracity of his words. He felt like he pinned the right man, or well, sorcerer.

  “But this…” He takes the vial to look at it. “An item he made. An item which propelled me through the demon ranks.” He looked at it with conflicted emotions. Not because he felt like he owed something to that ‘King’, but because… “He must be a very powerful sorcerer. More powerful than…” He didn’t dare to finish.

  This Monster King, this dark sorcerer, he was challenging the Demon Lord’s title. He wasn’t the first, but frighteningly enough, it seemed that he had the needed might to actually do it.

  “How frightening…” He shoved the vial back into his pocket. “The Monster King, eh…”