AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Oh, Lord.How could he manage with one use per six months? He probably had minions popping in at least two or three times a week.
Fuck. What if Zalramon wants me to quit cold turkey?
No. There had to be another way.
“I am terribly sorry for this mess I’ve created. I didn’t know it was causing such chaos for you. It was never my intention,” Sky apologized a bit breathlessly.
How many freaking stairs are there?
They reached the top, but the demon king didn’t pause for a second. He continued to lead the way through a massive two-story entrance and along a multi-columned corridor covered in shiny black marble. At least, it looked like marble. The floor was smooth like glass. Maybe it was obsidian.
Sky was still pondering the floor when a deepboomechoed through the hall and his head popped up to see a pair of enormous iron-banded wood doors thrown open. Yep, the underworld borrowed from lots of old fantasy novels he’d read.
Do the dead remember passing through the underworld? Is that why some of this seems so familiar?
Sky stepped inside the massive room and nearly tripped over his own feet. It was almost the size of a soccer pitch and very crowded, with an eager throng of both demons and minions. The creatures he called into his home were misty, ill-defined beings when in the human realm. But here, in their home, they took on sharper definition while still maintaining their dark, fathomless feel. It was as if someone had tightened the focus on them in his mind.
They filled the hall and lined the wide path to a massive black-horned throne. All eyes in the room were on him and the king. Yeah, that wasn’t an unsettling feeling at all.
Zalramon ascended the dais and threw himself onto his giant chair with one leg tossed over the arm. The king smirked at Sky, who was still standing at the foot of the stairs.
“Make me a sandwich,” Zalramon commanded.
“W-what?” Sky stammered. Clearly, this was the word of the day.
“That’s the bet I’ve made with my people. If you can make me the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten in my existence, I will allow you to continue to summon my minions for your tasks.” The king gripped one arm of the chair and used it to lever himself up. He leaned toward Sky, looming over him like a cruel bird of prey. “But if you fail, the door to the underworld will be closed to you for the rest of your living days.”
Oh, fuck.
That…that was insane. It was on the tip of his tongue to argue that the bet was unfair; he would never have agreed to this nonsense. But this was his one chance to keep his helpers and be absolved for the mess his sandwiches and other payments had caused.
“But…but if I win and continue using the minions, won’t that create problems down here?”
Zalramon waved a dismissive hand at him. “I’ll outlaw the secondary currency and make all your rewards nontransferable.” The demon frowned at him again. “But it would be easier for me if you weren’t causing problems in the first place.”
Ah. True.
“So…um…can you send me home? All my sandwich supplies are in my kitchen and—”
Sky didn’t get a chance to finish his request. Zalramon interrupted him with a snap of his fingers. “Fetch the necromancer’s kitchen!”
In the blink of an eye, several of the misty black minions that filled the hall disappeared. This…this felt terrible. They wouldn’t dare…
But they did.
Only ten seconds passed before Sky’s entire kitchen appeared in the middle of the hall, complete with his table and chairs next to the window looking out…well, it had looked out on his backyard, but now it was facing the rest of the king’s throne room and his subjects.
And, of course, there was still the mess of dirty dishes in the sink. Because why not? Not only bring his entire kitchen to the underworld but also show off that he hadn’t been keeping up with his cleaning.
Whatever. He wasn’t planning on getting any real sleep tonight.
Sky turned to Zalramon and offered what he hoped was a genuine smile. “What would Your Majesty like to eat?”
The demon shrugged. “Your best sandwich.”
A twitch started in the corner of Sky’s eye, but he kept his mouth shut as he walked over to his kitchen and jerked open the fridge. Although he was being watched by a “live” studio audience, standing in his own space helped to unwind some of the tension in his shoulders and erase the knot that had formed between his eyebrows.
He stared at the contents of his fridge without seeing them. What the hell would a demon like to eat? So far, he’d made sandwiches for minions, and they were happy with any kind of meat slapped between two pieces of bread. Toss in a pickle spear and some chips, and you’d think he’d served a rack of lamb.
