Page 13 of Demon Lord's Proposal

The last patron stumbles out of Slim's Last Chance, his tentacles leaving a trail of slime across the floor. I watch him go, my entire body aching from the night's work. The bar is a disaster zone of empty glasses, spilled drinks, and the lingering scent of otherworldly spirits.

"Holy hell," I mutter, surveying the carnage.

My feet throb in my new boots, and my arms feel like overcooked noodles from shaking cocktails all night. But beneath the exhaustion, there's a spark of pride. I did it. I survived my first shift in an underworld bar.

"Not bad for a newbie," a gruff voice says behind me.

I turn to see Deus, looking as fresh and intimidating as he did at the start of the night. How does he do that? I wonder, acutely aware of the sweat plastering my hair to my forehead and the stains on my apron.

"Thanks," I manage, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "It was... intense."

Deus grunts, his crimson eyes scanning the bar. "This? This was nothing. A slow night, even."

My jaw drops. "You're kidding, right? We were slammed!"

He shakes his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You ain't seen nothing yet, sweetheart. But you held your own. Now the real work begins."

I blink, confusion replacing my fatigue. "Real work? What do you mean?"

Deus doesn't answer. Instead, he turns and strides towards the back of the bar. "Follow me," he calls over his shoulder.

Curiosity overrides my exhaustion, and I hurry after him. We weave through the maze of tables and stools until we reach a blank wall behind the bar.

"Uh, Deus? There's nothing here," I say, wondering if maybe I'm more tired than I thought.

He smirks, reaching out to touch a seemingly random spot on the wall. "Watch and learn, kid."

As his fingers make contact, a soft glow emanates from the point of touch. Intricate patterns of light spread across the wall, forming a complex sigil. With a low rumble, a section of the wall slides away, revealing a hidden doorway.

"Holy crap," I breathe, my eyes wide. "That's... that's incredible!"

Deus's smirk widens. "Welcome to the real Slim's."

He steps through the doorway, and after a moment's hesitation, I follow. We descend a spiraling staircase, the air growing cooler with each step. The walls are lined with softly glowing runes, casting eerie shadows as we pass.

"What is this place?" I ask, my voice hushed.

"The heart of my operation," Deus replies. "Where the real magic happens."

As we reach the bottom of the stairs, the narrow passage opens up into a vast chamber. I gasp, overwhelmed by the sight before me.

The room is cavernous, its high ceiling lost in shadows. Rows upon rows of shelves line the walls, filled with jars, bottles, and containers of every shape and size. Strange apparatus dot the room – bubbling cauldrons, twisting glass tubes, and devices I can't even begin to name.

The air is thick with a mix of scents – sweet, acrid, earthy, and some I can't identify. It's intoxicating and slightly terrifying.

"This," Deus says, gesturing around. "This is where you'll learn the true art of demonic alchemy."

I take a tentative step forward, my eyes darting from one fascinating object to another. On a nearby shelf, I spot a jar filled with what looks like eyeballs, but they're constantly changing color. Next to it, a bottle contains a swirling mist that seems to form faces before dissipating.

"What... what are these?" I ask, pointing to a cluster of glowing crystals.

"Crystallized banshee screams," Deus replies casually. "Useful in certain clarity potions."

I nod, pretending that's a perfectly normal thing to have lying around. My gaze is drawn to a large apparatus in the center of the room. It's a complex network of tubes and chambers, filled with bubbling liquids of various colors.

"And that?" I ask, gesturing to the contraption.

Deus grins, a hint of pride in his voice. "That's my pride and joy. A demonic distillery. Capable of extracting the essence from just about anything."

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