If there was one thing I learned in the first hour of walking through the Demon Realm, it was this: hellish landscapes are terrible for your shoes. By the time we reached the base of Rika's castle, my once semi-decent sneakers looked like they'd been through a blender. The jagged rocks, molten cracks, and general vibe of "everything here wants you dead" weren't exactly commuter-friendly.
"Is it too late to quit?" I asked, wincing as I stepped on something squishy. "You know, just find someone else to be your magical errand boy?"
"Absolutely," Rika replied, not even turning around. Her pace was brisk, her staff tapping rhythmically against the ground as if the chaos around us was nothing more than background noise.
The castle loomed over us like some kind of gothic skyscraper, its spires reaching so high they disappeared into the swirling purple sky. It wasn't just intimidating; it was *extra*. Like, "evil lair interior designer had way too much fun" extra. Gargoyle statues flanked the entrance, their glowing red eyes tracking our every move.
"So, uh," I began, nervously eyeing the gargoyles, "is this place safe? You know, for *humans*?"
"Safe enough," Rika said with a smirk. "As long as you stick close to me."
"Comforting," I muttered, clutching the straps of my backpack like they could somehow protect me.
The massive doors to the castle creaked open as we approached, revealing a grand hall that was somehow even more intimidating than the exterior. The walls were lined with glowing runes, casting eerie shadows on the obsidian floor. At the far end of the hall was a throne made of black crystal, surrounded by what I could only describe as a magical glow that screamed "don't sit here unless you're ready to rule."
"Oh, good, you're back."
The voice made me jump. Standing off to the side was a demon who looked suspiciously like an accountant—if accountants had horns and wore suits made of shadow. He adjusted a pair of round glasses perched on his sharp nose and gave Rika a look that was equal parts exasperated and unimpressed.
"Hello, Azazel," Rika said, her tone casual as she handed her staff to him. "Miss me?"
"Like a headache," Azazel replied, sighing as he took the staff. "And who's this?" He adjusted his glasses, squinting at me. "Another lost human? Or... wait, don't tell me. He's *the one.*"
"The one?" I repeated, glancing nervously at Rika. "What's he talking about?"
"Oh, I may have mentioned you to Azazel once or twice," Rika said nonchalantly. "He's my advisor."
"Advisor?" I asked, staring at the demon who looked more like he belonged in an office cubicle than a throne room. "He doesn't exactly scream 'evil mastermind.'"
Azazel snorted. "And you don't exactly scream 'hero,' yet here we are."
"Okay, ouch," I muttered, crossing my arms.
Rika ignored us, striding toward the throne and plopping down on it with all the grace of someone who owned the place. Which, I guess, she technically did.
"Give me the rundown," she said, resting her chin on her hand. "How bad is it?"
Azazel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bad doesn't even begin to cover it. The Demon Generals are tearing each other apart trying to fill the power vacuum you left. Half the territories have declared independence, the lesser demons are running amok, and let's not even talk about the state of the treasury."
Rika groaned. "I leave for six months, and the whole realm falls apart. Typical."
"Six months?!" I yelped. "You've been gone for six months, and they're *just now* sending people after you?"
"Time moves differently in the Demon Realm," she said with a shrug. "It felt like two weeks tops."
"Great," I muttered. "So not only am I stuck here, but I'm also dealing with magical time dilation."
"Relax," Rika said, waving me off. "Azazel will bring you up to speed. I've got a kingdom to reclaim."
"You've also got three Generals waiting for you in the war chamber," Azazel interjected, his tone dripping with disdain. "They demanded an audience as soon as they heard you'd returned."
Rika rolled her eyes. "Of course they did. Fine. Let's get this over with."
"Wait, Generals?" I asked, my stomach twisting. "You mean like the one that tried to kill us earlier?"
Azazel smirked. "Oh no, that one was just muscle. These are the real power players."
"Fantastic," I said, dragging a hand down my face. "Because that's exactly what we need—more psychopaths with horns."
***
The war chamber was as ominous as I'd expected: a circular room with a massive table in the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs that looked like they could double as torture devices. Three figures were already seated, each radiating an aura of danger that made my skin crawl.
The first was a towering brute with skin like cracked stone and eyes that glowed like molten lava. His arms were as thick as tree trunks, and he looked like he could crush a boulder just by staring at it.
The second was a lithe woman with pale, almost translucent skin and silver hair that shimmered like moonlight. Her gaze was cold and calculating, her delicate hands folded neatly in front of her.
The third was... a clown. I wish I were joking. He had bright red hair, a painted-on grin, and a ridiculous patchwork suit that looked like it belonged in a nightmare carnival. But the sinister energy rolling off him made it clear he wasn't here to entertain.
"Your Majesty," the woman said, her voice like ice, "you've finally returned."
"Miss me, Lysara?" Rika asked mockingly as she took her seat at the head of the table.
"Not in the slightest," Lysara replied coolly.
"Enough pleasantries," the brute growled before slamming a fist on the table and making me flinch. "The kingdom is in shambles. What are you going to do about it?"
"Relax, Gorrak," Rika said, leaning back in her chair. "I've got a plan."
"Oh, this should be good," the clown cackled, spinning a knife between his fingers. "Do enlighten us, Your Majesty."
Rika's smirk widened, and for a moment, I saw a glint of the Demon Queen she used to be. "Simple," she said. "We're going to take back what's mine. One territory at a time."
And just like that, I realized what I'd gotten myself into.