Elderman Waltkins looked at the celebrations with a sulken look on his face. His once pristine clothes were now dirty from dirt and mud making him look a far cry from his former noble looks. A sudden cough escaped his lungs, making him cup a fist over his mouth covering some blood.
"Fucking monster slayer," he cursed ,looking hatefully at a tall, blonde haired man wearing a slick leather armor and a great sword sheathed on his back, drinking and celebrating with the rest of the peasants. He clutched his fists, a murderous look in his eyes before remembering how earlier that day that same man had made short work of his Lycanthrope son while he was hiding under his bed. So, unfortunately, he was very weak and vulnerable at the moment thus couldn't even dream of getting his vengeance.
Dejectedly, he got up from the stool he was sittinge on and walked off. Usually, he would take this moment to drink to his heart's content but the loss of his son was just too much for his heart. So, he decided to take a stroll in the woods.
"The think you're weak!" a sultry voice suddenly spoke up, making him startle, unsheathing his dagger and looking around in fright.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" he shouted,looking around. But, there was nobody! "I'm an Elderman, harming me will bring the town's wrathbon your ass!"
"They will dance on your grave before they even think of helping you. You know this, it rots your heart!" the voice answered, mockingly.
"No! They love me, I am their Elderman!" Wltkins defiantly shouted back. What he heard next was chilling enough his heart almost stopped in fright. A laughter that seemed to shake his soul escaped from the void, inducing him to go into shock, his heart pumping so fast it almost escaped his rib cage as his whole body was suddenly drenched in sweat.
"They cheer as you mourn your son's death, crown his murderer as a hero while you are just frolicking in your sorrow," the voice said in a way Waltkins could even imagine the speaker was looking at him in a condescending way.
"You think you know me? You don't! I clawed my way to the top using my own two feet and hands. Your parlor tricks are not amusing!" Waltkins shot back, but all he got was an amused chuckle as a reply.
"Parlor tricks? Can meager parlor bring your son back to life?" the speaker said before Watkins suddenly saw ashes appear before his feet. The ashes suddenly started wriggling before a hand broke out. It flailed around before getting hold of a bundle of grass then strained in pulling itself out of the ashes like it was pulling a huge mountain beneath it. A shoulder came out followed a head full of green hair just like Watkins's and the rest of the body followed.
Watkins looked at this scene in shock and wonder, not daring to look away from his presumed dead darling boy. He had seen how the monster hunter had trapped him in the burning building , watching as his soon wailed and screamt, burnt to death and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Yet, here he was, naked and unhurt, reminding him of the time he had seen his birth. Only this time, instead of crying his lungs out, he was breathing heavily, panting like a wet dog.
"Amos?" he called out softly, fearing that this might be a trick. The panting young man looked at him and Amos gasped as he recognized that face. He immediately let go of the dagger, not even realizing that his reflection in it was wrong. His reflection was looking at him coldly while he was looking at his son with surprise and fondness, his two eyes were yellowish and cat like in appearance. Even when the dagger fell, the image did not change, continued to look at Watkins with a coldness that was soul chilling.
Watkins, in the other hand, ran to his son who looked so vulnerable it broke his heart and just when he was about to embrace him and shower him with love, Amos' eyes suddenly gained that cat like appearance. He suddenly shot to his feet, his left hand already clutching Watkins's throat, lifting the poor man from the ground so easily it was like he weighed a fraction of a pound.
"I do not like it when lower lifeforms like you make me prove anything to you," Amos' spoke in a distinct guttoral tone in it, his eyes looking at the trembling Amos' with disdain.
"D... Demon!" Watkins realized in horror. He immediately stopped his struggles for he knew they were useless.
"You immediately know your place, good. I was not prepared to kill you yet," Amos spoke before he let him go. Watkins fell on his butt, gasping and coughing and scrambled away in fear. Amos did not mind this, being rather content to touch his flesh with a stupid grin on his face.
"Human flesh once again. So supple, so tender, so...delicious," he chuckled looking at his left hand with a look like he was about to tear it off and start eating it. At this instance, the flesh started rotting from his fingers, slowly climbing to the rest of his body, Amos sighed sadly at this.
"Fleeting," he said in disappointment before looking at the cowering Watkins. "But it will do."
"Look at me, mortal," Amos said authoritatively, making Watkins to snap his eyes onto him in fright. " I have chosen you for a task that is far beyond your mortal coil. This world, I want it to belong to me in thirty years. You will make that happen," Amos condescendingly spoke. Watkins shi ered even more.
"I'm just an Elderman, please, you have overestimated my worth," he cowered. Amos chuckled at this.
"I know exactly what your worth is. I have watched you from deep inside your soul, every decision you have taken to make your way to becoming an Elderman and I was impressed.
"A slave boy working his way through the ranks, sucking every dick and kissing every ass till you were given freedom. You killed, begged and allied with anyone you deemed useful till you become one of the wealthiest merchants in this pisspot of the country. But that wasn't enough, was it?" Amos looked at him in mirthful delight.
"You fancied yourself a king and thus needed a kingdom. So, you betrayed a friend, got his killed on a treason charge while you sold off his family to slavery, keeping for yourself his wife whom you kept in a dungeon, raped everyday till she got pregnant. When she gave birth to dear dear Amos, you killed her. Thus, claiming Amos' heirloom, this town and becoming an Elderman till his coming of age ceremony, which you made sure never happened. Yet, despite all this, I was quite surprised to know you really love your son, don't you?" Watkins did not answer.
"To give you incentive," Amos said before outstretching his left hand where a blue orb of energy hovered. The energy inside twisted and turned for a few seconds and there a miniature figure that was quite similar to the rotting Amos appeared. The figure looked around, seemingly lost before it saw Watkins and then became frenzied. It banged it's fists at the orb's walls a d screamt out to him.
"Dad! Dad! Please, you have to save me! I'm in hell, Dad and this demon keeps torturing me every night! It...It watched as I got raped dad, please, help!" the figure wailed pitifully.
"Little Amos, in the flesh. I have his soul and can bring him back to life at my discretion. However, in order for me to do that, I need you to complete my task. Give me this world in thirty years and I will bring him back. Failure to which, young Amos here will be introduced to every demon in my territory and they are malicious to tender souls like his," Amos spoke maliciously, his voice clear even while his throat was rotting. The orb disappeared along with the soul crumpled to the ground, weakly and it became nothing but frail bones.
"Thirty years, you have thirty years, Watkins," the demon's disappearing voice said.