After a long day of classes, Ray dropped his bag by the door, kicked off his sneakers, and entered his room with a sigh of exhaustion. College had been normal enough, aside from one highlight—Nathan and Ethan were still the talk of the campus after their cafeteria humiliation.
Ray couldn't help but smirk as he scrolled through his phone. The video of mashed potatoes sliding dramatically off Nathan's face had gone viral.
Someone had even edited it into a slow-motion clip, complete with dramatic music and sound effects.
"Classic," Ray muttered, shaking his head.
Ray figured Nathan and Ethan were probably planning some sort of revenge in their usual bumbling way, but he wasn't concerned.
"Future Ray can deal with that." He tossed his phone onto the desk, turned to his pod, and booted up the game.
[ Logging in! ]
The moment Ray logged back in, he found himself staring at the dusty wooden walls of his rented inn room.
Afternoon light filtered in through the window, casting long shadows over the sparse furniture—a single bed, a table, and a chair that looked one wrong move away from collapse.
He stretched out his arms, yawning, before looking around. It took him about two seconds to realize the obvious:
"No one's here. Again," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Why do I even bother?"
Ray stepped to the window, pulling back the thin curtain to get a look outside. The narrow streets of Ironvale were filled with the usual hustle with rays of the sun catching on the stone buildings and market stalls. The soft sound of merchants calling out their wares was faint but familiar.
He turned back to the empty room, noting that Seraphine, Cassandra, Jekkel, and even the elf had somehow vanished. The imp, no doubt, was cowering somewhere out of sight to avoid Seraphine's divine wrath.
The elf was probably still sulking after yesterday's escapade, and as for Cassandra and Seraphine? Who knew?
Ray let out a long sigh. "A growing party of companions, and not a single one of them sticks around. Fantastic."
He opened his inventory, flipping through the items he'd picked up. Supplies were running low; he'd need to restock if they were going to tackle anything major.
Stepping over to the small desk, he grabbed his equipment and headed downstairs to the common area.
The innkeeper barely looked up from wiping down the bar as Ray passed, but a couple of patrons threw curious glances his way. He adjusted his gear and headed for the door, resolving to track down his wayward companions.
The bull was likely in the stable, scaring the living daylights out of every other animal in sight. Wherever the others had gone, Ray had a feeling this wasn't going to be the quiet day he'd hoped for.
He smirked to himself as he stepped out into the street. "Let's see what kind of trouble they've managed to stir up this time."
----------
[ Somewhere beneath Ironvale ]
The cavern echoed with the guttural roars of demons, their cruel laughter and sharp claws scraping against stone as they gathered in a jagged semi-circle.
The flickering light of torches mounted on black iron sconces danced across their grotesque forms—twisted horns, leathery wings, and serrated fangs dripping with malice.
At the center stood the demon general, a towering monstrosity clad in dark, bloodstained armor.
His face was a hideous blend of cracked flesh and burning embers, and his fiery eyes swept across the horde. When he spoke, his voice rumbled through the cavern like an earthquake, sending shivers through even the most savage demons.
"This town," the general began, his voice dripping with malice, "is a stain upon our lord's vision. Its walls will crumble. Its people will scream. Their blood will paint the streets red for Asmodeus."
The demons roared in approval, pounding their fists against the rocky ground, eager for the carnage to come.
The general raised a clawed hand, silencing the crowd instantly. His expression twisted into something crueler, darker. "Two days. That's all the time you have to prepare. Two days before we strike at dawn. And when we do…"
He leaned forward, his voice a venomous whisper that carried across the cavern. "The women, the flesh, the blood… it's all yours. Take it. Ruin this town for our lord. Leave no stone unturned. No soul untouched."
The demons erupted into wild cheers, their bloodlust palpable.
The general straightened, his smirk twisting further.
"But there's something else—something amusing." He paused, letting his words sink in.
"It seems there's an imposter among us. A weakling, masquerading under our lord's divine aura."
"An otherworlder."
The crowd hushed, their glowing eyes narrowing in suspicion and rage.
"This fool," the general continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "has somehow stumbled into our plans. I felt his pathetic aura earlier in the town, scurrying about like a frightened insect."
"He's no demon—just some poor lost soul who thinks he can meddle in the affairs of hell."
The crowd broke into jeering laughter, voices mingling with cries of "Kill!" and "Slaughter!"
"Find him," the general commanded, his voice booming once more. "Find him and bring me his head. If he's in the town already, he won't escape. The hunt begins at dawn in two days."
The cavern echoed with the chant of "Kill! Kill! Kill!" as the demons worked themselves into a frenzy. The sheer volume of their bloodthirsty cries seemed to shake the very foundation of the mine.
In a shadowy corner of the cavern, a figure cloaked in black leaned against the wall, their posture stiff and awkward.
The torchlight barely reached their face, but their wide eyes betrayed their growing panic.
"How the heck did I reach here?" the figure muttered under his breath, his voice trembling just enough to betray their nervousness.
Ray's eyes darted toward the demon general, then to the raving crowd. "This is not where I parked my bull…"
----------
Ray emerged from the inn, stretching his arms as the morning sun cast a soft glow over the town of Ironvale.
The fresh air was a brief reprieve from the chaotic day prior, but his tranquility was short-lived.
As he made his way to the stables, he noticed a crowd of townsfolk gathered near the ruined entrance, whispering and gesturing animatedly.
Curious, Ray pushed through the small crowd. "What's going on here?" he asked.
The innkeeper, a stout man with a thick beard, turned and immediately recognized him. His expression twisted into a mix of anger and exasperation.
"You! That blasted bull of yours! It destroyed the damn stables!" He gestured to the wreckage—a few shattered beams, scattered hay, and the broken remains of a trough.
Ray blinked, trying to process the scene. "My… bull?"
"Yes, your damned bull!" the innkeeper shouted. "It panicked, tore through the stable, and ran off! Look at the mess it left behind! The place is in shambles!"
Ray frowned and moved closer, inspecting the ground. Among the wreckage, he saw deep hoof prints gouged into the dirt.
"Great," Ray muttered, rubbing his temples. "Where did it go?"
One of the onlookers pointed toward the mountain range behind the town. "We saw it run that way, behind the mountain," they said.
Ray sighed, his frustration mounting as he followed the trail of hoof prints.
They were easy enough to track—deep indentations that led away from the town, through the forest, and up the rugged mountain path.
As he climbed higher, the air grew colder, and the trees became sparser.
Eventually, the trail led him to the entrance of a mining cave. The dark, yawning opening loomed before him, and he could see faint scratches and disturbed dirt around the entrance.
"Of course it went into the creepy cave," Ray muttered. He paused for a moment, staring into the darkness. "Where the heck is that bull? And why does this kind of stuff always happen to me?"
Then, as he stood there, realization dawned on him. "Wait…" he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
"If it's my pet, it should be able to recognize my aura…" His voice trailed off as he pieced it together.
The bull must have been following his cursed aura, mistaking it for a beacon of its master's presence.
Before he could dwell on it further, a rustling sound came from the trees behind him. Ray instinctively pulled a dark cloak from his inventory and threw it over himself, concealing his identity.
From the shadows of the forest, a figure emerged—a hulking demon, its glowing eyes fixed on him. It carried a massive, jagged blade across its back and sneered as it approached.
"Who are you?" the demon growled, its voice a low rumble that echoed across the clearing.
Ray panicked inside but didn't answer immediately. His mind raced as to prevent him from being busted. Among the countless scenarios in his mind, he just chose the easiest one.
He stepped forward, letting the faint tendrils of Asmodeus's cursed aura seep out from his body dramatically although it was looking more like cheap stage smoke.
The Demon stopped, visibly confused, tilting its head slightly as if trying to process this bizarre greeting.
"..."
"..."
He blinked and then also proceeded to do the the same with his own demonic aura seeping out in the form of dark tendrils.
"..."
"..."
The silence dragged on, the cursed aura swirling aimlessly between them, as if unsure of its own purpose.