The carriage rattled over the obsidian roads of Gehenna, the Demon Realm.
I leaned back against the plush velvet seat, eating a bag of dried salamander chips. They were spicy, crunchy, and supposedly good for stamina.
"Rax," I said, kicking my feet up on the opposite seat. "How much longer?"
"We are crossing the Ashen Plains, my Lord," Rax shivered, looking out the window at the crimson sky. "Perhaps... another few hours until we reach the edge."
I nodded and looked down at the map on my lap.
It wasn't a map of a continent. It was a map of our Dimension.
[Gehenna: The Dark Realm]
In this novel, the world was split in two.
Terran (The Human Realm): Blue skies, green grass, humans, elves, dwarves. The place with all the tasty food and "Heroes."
Gehenna (The Demon Realm): Where we were. A harsh dimension of violet skies, multiple moons, and high-density magic.
The two worlds were separated by the Dimensional Veil. You couldn't just walk from one to the other. You needed a Rift, a Gate, or a Summoning Ritual.
"And here is my new home," I muttered, tracing a jagged scar on the map.
Nokaar: The Deadlands.
It was located at the very edge of Gehenna. It wasn't just a wasteland; it was a "Thin Spot." The fabric of reality was weak there. It was constantly leaking dark mana, which is why everything there died and came back as undead.
"In the novel," I analyzed, "The Demon King eventually uses Nokaar as a launchpad to invade the Human Realm in Volume 4. But right now? It's just a garbage dump."
Wait.
I paused, a chip halfway to my mouth.
A garbage dump... with a squatter.
I remembered a minor subplot. There was a Necromancer named Malak the Rot. He was a criminal in the Demon Empire who fled to the Deadlands to hide from the law. He set up a base there because no noble wanted to live in a radioactive mana wasteland.
"So," I smiled. "I'm not moving into an empty house. I'm moving into a house with a roommate."
"Lord Valerius?" Rax squeaked. "Look!"
I looked out the window.
The landscape had changed. The volcanic rock of the Demon Empire gave way to a gray, lifeless fog. The ground was cracked and bleeding purple steam. The sky above us swirled with unnatural storms.
We had reached the border of Nokaar.
But the road was blocked.
A wall of bone spikes—human bones, demon bones, beast bones—had been erected across the narrow pass. Standing atop the wall was a figure.
He wore tattered robes that looked like they hadn't been washed in a century. He held a staff topped with a glowing green skull.
[Name: Malak the Rot]
[Class: Necromancer (3rd Circle Mage)]
[Status: Territorial]
Behind him, shuffling in the mist, were dozens of figures. Skeletons in rusted armor. Zombies stitched together from demon corpses.
"Halt!" Malak shouted. His voice was magically amplified, echoing through the valley. "This is the Domain of the Dead! No living Demon enters here! Turn back, or become fuel for my army!"
Rax covered his head with his hands. "We're going to die! It's a Necromancer! He'll turn us into soup!"
I sighed, brushing crumbs off my silk pajamas.
"Driver, stop the car."
I stepped out. The air tasted metallic, like licking a battery.
"Hey! You!" I shouted, waving casually.
Malak paused. He blinked his sunken eyes. "Me?"
"Yeah, you. The guy with the fashion disaster robes," I called out. "You're blocking my driveway."
Malak bristled. "Driveway? This is my Kingdom! I am Malak the Rot! I have claimed this land!"
He slammed his staff down. The army of undead—at least fifty of them—groaned and raised their weapons. Green soul-fire flared in their eyes.
"Leave, noble!" Malak sneered. "Or I will add your skeleton to my collection!"
I adjusted my glasses—the Spectacles of the Deceiver. I had been suppressing my mana to keep a low profile on the road.
"You know," I said, walking closer. "I was actually worried about staffing issues. It's hard to find good maids in the Deadlands."
I took the glasses off.
"But you seem very... employable."
"What are you babbling about?" Malak raised his hand to cast a spell. "Die!"
The skeletons charged.
I didn't flinch. I just felt the hunger in my gut wake up. It sensed the necromancy. It sensed the magic holding those bones together.
Food.
"Gluttony."
I didn't shout it. I whispered it.
My shadow didn't behave like a shadow. It behaved like a predator.
WHOOSH.
It exploded outward, a tidal wave of ink-black darkness. It moved faster than the skeletons could run. It swept over the army like a flood.
The moment the darkness touched the undead, they didn't break. They just... stopped.
The green fire in their eyes was ripped out violently.
SLURP.
Streams of spectral energy flew into my shadow. The bones collapsed into dust instantly, their magic binding completely consumed.
"My... my army?" Malak stammered. His jaw dropped. "What did you do?!"
"I ate them," I said simply.
The shadow rose up behind Malak. It towered over him, forming a massive, jagged mouth with white, square teeth. It looked like an eldritch nightmare.
"Wait!" Malak shrieked, falling backward off his bone wall. "I—I surrender! Don't eat me! I'm skinny! There's no meat!"
I walked through the cloud of bone dust. I stood over him.
"I don't want to eat you," I said, looking down. "I need a janitor."
Malak looked up, trembling. "A... janitor?"
"Yes. Someone to clean the castle. Fix the roof. Manage the undead laborers." I smiled, and my shadow mimicked the smile, showing too many teeth. "The pay is 'I let you live'. Do we have a deal?"
Malak scrambled to his knees and slammed his head on the ground.
"I accept! I love cleaning! I am the best janitor in Gehenna!"
"Good."
I stepped over him and looked toward the foggy horizon where the ruins of my castle waited.
"Rax!" I called back to the carriage. "Pack up the new guy. We're moving in."