Small Sparks of Power

"Mere humans facing Ralmas? That wasn't an easy feat...." His emptied glass was promptly refilled by a trusted household keeper. Octavius mused aloud, posing the question to himself but glancing toward the bewildered attendant for a response.

"Isn't it quite challenging for an ordinary human to defeat a demon?" He articulated the inquiry as if pondering ancient legends, yet directed it towards his perplexed aide.

"Uh, well... I didn't quite grasp your meaning, sir," came the hesitant reply. Perhaps, the servant assumed his master was inebriated, indulging in talk of mythical books and nonsensical tales of demons.

In the room adorned with the relics of Octavius's ascent to power, the air thickened with an unspoken acknowledgment of the supernatural.

Octavius, seated upon his luxurious throne, once again fixed his gaze on the commanding portrait of himself.

The room, shrouded in subdued lighting, was designed to accentuate the intimidating grandeur of his surroundings.

" ... So, what kind of human manages to defeat him?" Octavius inquired, his words accompanied by a dismissive wave signaling his household attendant to exit the room.

The household keeper nodded respectfully and excused himself, leaving Octavius in solitude with the eerie atmosphere of his sanctuary.

From within the towering portrait, a colossal silhouette took form—a creature of immense stature, standing three meters tall.

Its muscular frame was adorned with two sharp and honed horns, crowning its terrifying visage. To the uninitiated, particularly those unfamiliar with the mystic realm, the mere sight of such an entity would evoke profound horror, and even those seasoned in the mystical arts often hesitated to unveil their inner sight in the presence of this formidable figure.

"Your presence always instilled fear, including in me," Octavius remarked with an air of calm authority, devoid of any trace of inebriation.

"I never grew accustomed to your apparitions in that form," he continued, maintaining a stoic composure that belied the unsettling nature of the spectral manifestation.

The demon's snarl generated a gust of wind, causing the window curtains to sway erratically. Several objects shifted, expensive ceramic vases shattered, and Octavius's hair ruffled in response.

"No need for pleasantries. What do you want me to do? Dispose of your business enemies again? Drag them to hell? Or..." Grinning, revealing his malevolence, "torture and imprison them 'forever?"

Octavius shook his head, revealing a photo, which he placed on the table for the demon to scrutinize.

"Find out about this man. Whether he's involved in my son's accident. And ... about the whereabouts of Ralmas...."

The demon's grin widened as he fully grasped the desires and intentions of his master. "Certainly, I shall bring forth the wrongdoer to grant you the pleasure of witnessing their torment."

The middle-aged man erupted in hearty laughter, playfully mocking the demon's slightly skewed assumption.

"No, no. That's your penchant. Such methods are too conventional. I want to explore something novel...."

In the shadowy abyss of the night, two pairs of eyes flickered to life, accompanying the spine-chilling wails echoing the anguish of their long-subdued victims—souls ensnared, their ethereal forms tethered while only their physical remnants lingered in the realm of humankind.

Within that category, lie the trapped souls of Viktor's deceased parents, caught in the dimension between the living world and the afterlife.

Their spirits screamed in agony whenever their son's name was uttered by Octavius's tainted lips.

***

In the quiet stillness of the night, the demon's deep sigh echoed like a lament, accompanied by the subtle crackle of unruly flames.

His silhouette, adorned with perfectly furrowed brows, betrayed a sense of disdain that permeated the air.

"Freedom," the demon murmured, his voice a low, haunting melody that resonated with the shadows around him. "Yet, it comes at the cost of servitude."

As he ventured through the sleepless expanse, a dance of shadows and ethereal flames in his wake, the demon contemplated the intricacies of his existence. The night seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the revelation of secrets veiled in the darkness.

"Small sparks of power," he mused, his eyes flickering with an otherworldly glow. "A reminder of the chaos within."

The demon's disdainful gaze pierced the veil between worlds, as if questioning the purpose of his nocturnal wanderings.

In the quiet dance of shadows, a bored demon sighed, sparking tiny flames of impatience. Suddenly, a photo caught his attention.

"Oh, oh? Does the unsexy guy match the one in this pic?" The demon raised an ethereal eyebrow.

Intrigued, he discreetly tailed Viktor, whispering in the night. "Secrets in the mundane, a tale worth following."

As the demon weaved through the darkness, the night became a stage for the unfolding mystery, leaving sparks of anticipation in the air.

On that chilly night, Viktor strolled along the sidewalk. The brisk wind added a cold touch to the atmosphere, making him pull his worn-out denim jacket tighter around him.

"At least today, I can delay paying the rent for my tiny room. Tomorrow, I'll slip away again and again until I manage to earn some cash from that exhausting job," he muttered, his words carried away by the gusts of the night wind.

Recently, Malphas, the demon bestowed by the Demon Goddess Elara, hadn't manifested in response to Viktor's cold and seemingly indifferent demeanor.

Consequently, the demon struggled to establish any connection between Viktor and Malphas.

In the course of the investigation, conducted by a demon at Octavius's behest, over the past four days at the scene of the incident, remnants of potent demonic energy were discovered. It was no ordinary accident.

Some demonic force had intervened, bending the threads of fate.

"I may not know the specifics of his connection, but this strongly suggests that a demon played a role in the mishap involving the young upstart," The demon remarked a few days ago.

However, Malphas sensed an ominous, thick presence approaching, creeping in, delving into every aspect of Viktor's life over the past few days.

Sergoth.