Page 45 of The Dark Lord Awakens
[Order confirmed! Helpdesk Supreme thanks valued customer for choosing OpenSesame Interdimensional Commerce. Your first delivery will arrive in the eastern courtyard in approximately four hours. This unit wishes you success in your highly unusual mission of actually helping your subjects instead of tormenting them.]
“Has anyone ever told you that you have an attitude problem, Supremo?”
[Helpdesk Supreme does not have ‘attitude.’ This unit has a customer satisfaction rating of 98.7% across all realms. The 1.3% dissatisfaction rate primarily consists of users who expired during the ordering process due to unrelated combat incidents.]
“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Well, keep the interface open. I’ll probably need to place more orders soon. And maybe set up that merchant account eventually.”
[Helpdesk Supreme will maintain active status. This unit has taken the liberty of preparing a preliminary analysis of Iferona’s most marketable exports for your future consideration. This unit suggests valued customer might want to consider ordering some ominous decorative elements alongside future humanitarian supplies. Perhaps a tasteful skull motif to maintain Dark Lord appearances while distributing food?]
“I’ll take it under advisement,” I replied dryly. “Come on, Mr. Snuggles. We’ve got about four hours to figure out how we’re going to distribute all this stuff to hungry demons without causing a riot.”
As I left the treasury with Mr. Snuggles padding alongside me, I couldn’t help but smile. Somehow, in this strange new world of demons and dark magic, I’d found a connection to my old life—even if that connection came in the form of an interdimensional shopping assistant with an attitude problem.
But Supremo had given me something even more valuable than that connection—not just a way to help my subjects immediately, but potentially a path to sustainable recovery for the entire realm. For the first time since I’d arrived in this world, I felt like I had a purpose and a plan.
Four years of business school had to be good for something, right?
Mr. Snuggles nudged my hand with his scaly head, as if sensing my thoughts.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” I told him, scratching under his chin. “Your Dark Lord has a plan. Sort of. We’re going to save this city, one cup noodle at a time.”
11
Lucien/Beau
I’d expected the “war room” to be an austere chamber with a map table and maybe a dozen chairs for top military officials. What I found instead was a cavernous hall that could comfortably host a medieval Super Bowl with enough room left over for a halftime show featuring actual dragons. Massive chandeliers hung from chains, casting eerie blue light over hundreds of demons arranged in neat rows by department, all standing at rigid attention.
Hundreds. Not the intimate strategy session I’d envisioned, but apparently a full-blown town hall meeting with what looked like every mid-level manager in the Dark Citadel. Great. My anxiety, which had been hovering at a solid eight out of ten, cranked itself up to about twenty-seven.
“Azrael,” I whispered as we approached the raised dais at the front, my mouth suddenly drier than gas station jerky, “I thought this would just be the department heads.”
“I took the liberty of summoning their chief lieutenants as well, my lord,” he replied smoothly, as if he hadn’t just multiplied my public speaking anxiety by a factor of fifty. “For a distribution effort of this magnitude, we will need every available leader.”
Fantastic. Instead of a quick planning session with a handful of demons, I was now giving a TED Talk to the demonic middle management association. I swallowed hard, scanning the sea of horns, fangs, and glowing eyes. If this were a video game, I’d definitely be underleveled for this boss encounter.
Azrael stepped forward, raising his hands for silence—not that anyone was making noise. The room was already so quiet you could hear a pin drop, or in this case, the nervous swish of my cape as I fidgeted. My palms were sweating so much I could probably solve Iferona’s water shortage single-handedly.
“Behold!” Azrael’s voice boomed through the chamber with theatrical intensity that would make Broadway directors take notes. “The Dark Lord Lucien has returned to us not merely restored but transformed! While his physical form slumbered, his power grew beyond comprehension!”
Wait, what? This wasn’t the agenda we’d discussed. I was supposed to be explaining OpenSesame’s two-day shipping policy, not being introduced as some kind of slumbering demigod.
“Even now,” Azrael continued, his crimson eyes glowing brighter with each proclamation, “our sovereign has established pathways to the void realms themselves! In mere hours, he will summon forth supplies from beyond—food, water, shelter—all manifested through his immense dark power!”
The assembled demons gasped collectively, murmurs rippling through the crowd. Some exchanged wide-eyed glances, others looked skeptical, but most seemed utterly awestruck.
Oh God. They actually believed this garbage. This was rapidly spiraling from “emergency meeting” to “cult gathering,” and I was somehow the cult leader.
“The ancient prophecy speaks true!” someone shouted from the back. “The Dark Lord returns with the power to draw sustenance from the endless void!”
I made a mental note, again, to ask about this “prophecy,” right after I finished having a silent panic attack behind my carefully neutral expression. For now, I had to roll with whatever messianic narrative Azrael was spinning. If I revealed I was just planning to place the demonic equivalent of an online order, I’d probably end up as an appetizer at the next staff meeting.
“Behold your lord and master,” Azrael concluded with a dramatic flourish worthy of a magician revealing he’d just sawed his assistant in half, “who has transcended the boundaries of our realm to save his people!”
As one, every demon in the room dropped to their knees, heads bowed so low they nearly touched the floor. The synchronized movement created a wave effect that was both impressive and slightly terrifying, like watching a flash mob composed entirely of creatures from a horror movie.
“Hail the Dark Lord!” they chanted. “Master of the Void! Fulfiller of Prophecy!”
Oh, sweet merciful caffeine, this was getting out of hand. I cleared my throat and stepped forward, hoping my knees wouldn’t visibly shake. Public speaking had always been my kryptonite—public speaking to an audience of demons who thought I was some kind of prophesied messiah was so far beyond my comfort zone it might as well have been in another galaxy.
