Marvin couldn’t stop grinning. Elation flowed every inch of his body, filling every step with a little bounce. Several large plastic grocery bags sat in Marvin’s arms, leaning tentatively against a gray sweatshirt with the faded logo of Yale University on it. The bags were stretched to their limit, threatening to split and shower the city’s sidewalks with slightly thawed chickens, various canned goods, and an unhealthy sum of sugary sweets. Despite the bag’s obvious peril, Marvin continued trodding obliviously along to his apartment. He was far too happy to see anything wrong in the world at the moment. 

Not that Marvin would have noticed the splitting bags on a normal day either. He had the attention span of a drunk butterfly. His roommate often commented how it was a miracle Marvin had managed to not get hit by a car when crossing the street. It was even more of a miracle when one considered that Marvin seemed to be a nexus for absolutely terrible luck. Things simply went wrong around him, babies cried, electronics miraculously failed, and even the most sturdy bags split at the seams. Yet even Marvin’s terrible luck seemed to spare him this morning. Apparently, it was merciful, allowing Marvin to enjoy a small victory. Or perhaps far too flummoxed by said recent events to even comprehend interfering.

Marvin arrived at his apartment, a small brick building in the middle of New Haven. Standing several stories high, its windows were dressed in faded flower drapes, its bricks were whitened and eaten away by rain, and its door stood in a chipped coat of green paint. Despite its obvious age the building had a warm hum, like a hearth in the middle of a log cabin. Fumbling with his bags, Marvin opened the door and stumbled into the lobby to find the landlady manning a small desk.

Mrs. Chang was as old as the building, standing no higher than Marvin’s waist with bushy gray hair sitting atop her head. Wrinkles crawled up and down the surface of her face, her cheeks sagging almost like a bulldog’s. She was wrapped in an old red tang suit, embroidered with little white flowers. Currently, she was attending to a small shrine in the back of the room, dusting a black and white picture of an old smiling Chinese man.

Mrs. Chang glanced at the doorway and raised an eyebrow when she saw Marvin with a suspiciously wide grin

“What makes you so happy?” she asked, scrunching her face up with suspicion. From a lot of experience she knew that a happy Marvin was a good reason to worry. Mrs. Chang could swear that her blood pressure went up every time she saw the kid. 

Marvin plopped down the groceries on a nearby table, taking a moment to shake his drooping arms. “You will never guess what happened today!”

“I don’t know if I want to…” mumbled Mrs. Chang

Marvin rolled his eyes. “Common Mrs. C, guess!” 

“Fine Fine!” she leaned forward towards Marvin and peered into his face. “You… burn down your school!”

Marvin blinked for a moment, “What?! No, why would you think I would be happy about that?!”

Mrs. Chang shrugged and went back to polishing the picture of her husband. “I don’t know! You always complain about work. Every morning, every night, every-” She made a series of aggressive hand motions to accentuate her points as she talked. 

“No no, nothing like that,” said Marvin waving his hands dismissively. He paused for dramatic effect. “Tina just agreed to have dinner here today!”

Mrs. Chang frownedand continued polishing the picture. “So? She come over all the time. She here just last weekend.”

Marvin raised his finger. “Ah, but this time… it’s a date!”

Mrs. Chang fumbled for a few moments, nearly dropping the picture and knocking over a candle. She turned to Marvin with wide eyes.

“Tina?”

“Yep,” Marvin grinned widely

“A date?”

“Mhm.”

Mrs. Chang paused for a moment, pinched herself, and then turned to Marvin. “With… you?” The last question was filled with every bit of disbelief and bewilderment the old Chinese woman could muster.

“Mrs. C!” 

“Sorry! Sorry! I happy for you.” Mrs. Chang with a dismissive wave, “Which restaurant are you ordering from?”

Marvin examined the groceries in his bag. “Actually I’m cooking,” he said with a haughty air.

Mrs. Chang wagged her finger in with a scolding tone, “Marvin! Ramen noodle do not make good impression on first date!”

Marvin recoiled with an offended air. “I’m not making ramen!”

Mrs. Chang squinted her eyes. “Then what?”

Marvin twinged slightly. It was a small motion, but Mrs. Chang had seen it enough to know the boy had messed up. “Marvin???”

“I… may have claimed to have a family recipe for-,” Marvin cringed, “The best chicken parmesan in all of existence.”

Mrs. Chang sighed and put a disappointed hand on the bridge of her nose. “Marvin… last time you try to cook dinner fire trucks come to my door!”

“I know…” Marvin said sheepishly

“You no have an oven”

“I have a microwave oven,” mumbled Marvin

“You not even Italian!”

“I KNOW!” said Marvin loudly with a dismissive wave. “BUT, it’s all handled. Big D left a recipe out for me. All I have to do is follow a few simple directions.”

Mrs. Chang shook her head, “That boy is the luckiest thing to ever happen to you.”

“Yeah, he is pretty great,” 

“If only he here to cook for you,” said Mrs. Chang waving her finger, “He leave hour ago.”

Marvin grinned and scooped up the grocery bags. “Don’t worry Mrs. C, I always figure out a way to make things work!” 

As the young boy practically bounded up the stairs, Mrs. Chang mumbled under her breath. “That what I afraid of…” 

…

In a world far removed from Earth sat a silent valley in the dead of night. The location was of such sanctity, and held in such esteem, that no creature of nature dared make a sound to disturb it. Everything from the cats to the crickets conducted their business with the utmost care. The mice held up in their holes, the moles dug around the enclave, and even the birds held back their songs. Even the stones played their part, growing a thin layer of moss to prevent the errant footsteps from disrupting the valley. Protected from prying eyes by walls of giant rock, the Valley of Sacred Silence had remained untouched by human interference for a thousand years.

Tonight had been positioned to act like any other night. The visiting animals were as cautious as always, entering the valley with their characteristic care. As they went about their business, however, the air became unsettled. A soft hum echoed off the stone walls, conspicuously loud in comparison to the silent enclave. Nature’s creatures, unused to even the slightest noise, all jumped at the disturbance. Suddenly, the air stilled and a crudely drawn door appeared on the nearest stone wall. The stone inside the door melted away into a spiral of rainbow light, as the hum grew to a practically deafening note compared to the silence of the valley. The animals fled from the door, as a large young man trampled out of the portal. 

The young man was of college age, though built taller and fitter than his average peer. His chocolate brown skin was contrasted against light khaki pants, a red shirt, and a denim jacket. The light from the moon glinted off the traveler’s bald head, as he yawned and cracked his knuckles loudly. He pulled out a slip of paper, a list ripped from a nearby notebook, and examined it carefully. The young mage then waved his hand, and the glowing holographic outline of a clock appeared in front of him. He didn’t have much time. 

“Alright Dylan,” he mumbled loudly to himself, “Just three items, and then you are finally done.”

…

Before Marvin could get to cooking his perfect chicken parmesan, there were a few minor problems he needed to handle first. His apartment flat was made up of two embarrassingly small bedrooms, a larger space with a couch and TV, and a small set of kitchen appliances and cabinets tucked away in a back corner. Despite the relatively small surface area, Marvin and his roommate always seemed to have a very difficult time cleaning up after themselves. The flat was a tangled mess of old pizza boxes, dust-warped molding pieces of candy, and hazardously thrown garments, among other things.

Marvin grimly walked into his battlefield, He was armed with nothing but an old vacuum, a weapon as easily dusty as the room around it. The mess was almost too big to confront, the weight of the task in front of him pulling down on Marvin’s shoulders. Yet as Marvin looked around the dismissal state of the apartment, just when he felt all hope was lost… He imagined Tina’s smiling face in his mind’s eye. He flipped on the vacuum, and the old beast roared to life, shuttering with anticipation and bloodlust. Marvin steeled his resolve and charged into battle.

Marvin’s war was going spectacularly at first. His vacuum tube cut giant swaths against the sea of dust atop the wooden floor, eating up the grime like a flaming sword to a field of wheat. The young hero wrestled his way through piles of mismatched cushions, trampled over the gooiest of three-week-old pizzas, and scrubbed every visible inch of mold off the walls. The house crumpled against his superior might, and soon the windows were more transparent than the air itself, the floor shinned more brilliant than a South African diamond, and several trashbags lay at the door, filled with the bodies of Marvin’s fallen foes.

Yet just as Marvin was to complete his victory, marching menacingly over to a single final enclave of dust hiding in the corner of the room, his weapon failed him. The vacuum gave a large retching sound and suddenly died back to sleep. Marvin frowned, as he looked down the barrel of his tool. Sighing, he walked over to the small orange machine, its bag having become fat and bloated over the course of Marvin’s war. The young hero inspected the box attempting to figure out what was wrong. Unfortunately, Marvin had no experience with vacuum repair and found himself flummoxed at what could possibly stall his great victory. 

Out of options, Marvin simply pulled back his foot and slammed it into the side of the machine. The vacuum sputtered back to life, its hose roaring once more and eager to finish the fight. Marvin grinned, reviling in his ingenuity.

Then, the vacuum bag exploded.

…

The wind of Mount Verdoom blew with a disdain for all living beings. Any unworthy creature who tried to climb the natural fortress found itself submitting needlelike cold and windchill far before they reached the top. The mountain stood taller than the highest clouds, spiraling upwards in a set of curves and bends that defied all the constraints of reality. On the side of the mountain was an odd formation of rocks that seemed to resemble the face of a bearded man crying out in agony.

According to the locals, the face belonged to an old giant who once ruled the mountain. This giant was so mighty and so large, that no being of the land or sea could threaten his power. Back in the beginning of time, every manner of creature would pay homage to the giant… or face the business end of the beast’s stone club. However, in the giant’s victories, he only found hubris and folly. The giant cried out that he was invincible, and challenged the world to bring a champion to defeat him. His arrogance angered the gods, who sent a dragon of the sky. The dragon used ancient magics to seal the giant into the side of the mountain, trapping him, and his arrogance, forever in stone.

Dylan walked up the side of the ancient mountain, his hands casually in his pockets as the roaring wind bore down on him. A ring of fire circled his wrist, as a bright orange haze coated his skin, burning bravely against the cold. The powerfully cast heat shield left him feeling as if he was walking outside on a particularly chilly autumn day rather than hiking up one of the coldest mountains in the multiverse. The young mage looked upwards at his final destination, a massive cavern that happened to be the giant’s nostril.

As the legend goes, when the giant was sealed away, his innate power had been bonded with the magic of the mountain. From that mixture grew the Malton Moon Flower, a pink and purple miracle that was said to bring vitality to those who grow it. The villagers had warned Dylan that the flower was only allowed to be picked when the moon was full, but unfortunately, the young mage did not have the luxury of time to wait for the heavens to agree with him. 

Pulling his way into the nostril with a grunt, Dylan found himself standing in a sea of green. The cavern was covered in an overgrown moss that snaked up the sides of the walls and dangled in vines from the ceiling. With every one of Dlyan’s steps, the moss spoke and shuddered, sending up spores into the air. The young mage seemed completely unworried by the airborne seed, as yawned and delved further into the cave.

Dylan raised his right hand, using the light from the ring of fire to color the dark cavern. After only a few yards or so, he saw a Moon Flower, sitting comfortably in an empty bed of stone. The young mage approached the flower cautiously, examining its every angle to make sure it resembled what he saw in books. When he was finally satisfied, he reached down tentatively and quickly pulled the plant out from the roots. He looked around cautiously for a moment, waiting for some terrible fate to befall him. Yet… nothing happened. The mage breathed a sigh of relief and put the flower into his bag. 

He took one step towards the entrance of the cave when an ear-splitting roar exploded from the back of the giant’s throat. The footsteps of a massive, charging creature grew louder and louder, covering exponential amounts of ground. At the same time, the moss grew violently, enveloping the entrance of the grave in a wall of green, and waves of spores leaped into the air. 

Dylan sighed, chastising himself for relaxing too quickly. The young mage raised his hand into the air and a thin fiery whip lashed out from his wrist. Dylan turned to the sound of the charging beast and cracked the whip loudly, preparing for battle. 

…

Marvin walked up to the stove of his kitchen stretching his arms high into the sky, sighing contently. His apartment now shinned cleaner than the day he had rented it (after he used a broom to sweep the contents and shrapnel of the exploded vacuum cleaner under metaphorically and literally every rug he could find). His laundry had been nicely folded and tucked away (brutally shoved back into the corresponding doors of his dresser). He had even taken the time to set a small circular table, using a stained red cloth and scented candle to create just the right atmosphere for the night.

All that was left was to cook the main dish. Marvin had quickly laid out all the ingredients on the kitchen counter, carefully putting the corresponding tools he would need next to each item. The young suitor was very much aware of his propensity for trouble and thus wanted to make sure everything went according to plan. 

Marvin walked over to the cookbook, a large red book with a gold embroidered spine. Its pages were slightly tan, more closely resembling scroll parchment than modern white pages. The instructions were scribbled out in a loopy almost handwritten font, making it slightly difficult for Marvin to read. The young man leaned down and squinted to read the first line. 

1. 1. Acquire a chicken

Marvin walked over to the dining table, where the now fully thawed chicken sat happily. Picked it up, and brought it back to the book.

2. Kill the chicken

Marvin looked down at the packaged chicken carcass in his arms and put a hand to its side. Yep, definitely dead.

3. Slow roast the chicken over an Eternal Flame of Nabur

Marvin bit the side of his cheek as he looked around the room. They didn’t have an Eternal Flame of Nabur… and he didn’t think that the appliance store would have one. Finally, Marvin shrugged to himself, cut open the chicken package, and threw the chicken into the microwave. It would have to do.

Marvin walked back to the book with a growing confidence. This cooking business wasn’t THAT bad at all. He looked over at the next few steps

4. Grate The cheese
5. Say the incantation “Bylslebub” three times over as the plate simmers to infuse the dish with the power of mystic shadow
6. Chop tomatoes

Marvin frowned as he looked at the next few steps. This may be a little more difficult than he expected… He opened a nearby drawer full of disorganized utensils. They did not have a cheese grater. 

…

The Scionor deserts were home to all manner of beasts, each deadly enough to kill even the most experienced of travelers. Giant purple scorpions, large multi-headed vultures, and nearly invisible venomous snakes governed and crawled about the sands. Yet in this mass of monsters, the most feared and dreaded creature was the Scionor Bull. 

It was not a creature one would expect to find in the desert. It had a thick hide and a mane of black fur circling its neck. It stood as large as a small school bus yet despite its incredible weight, it did not sink into the sands. Rather it practically flew over the sands, held up by an invisible magical force. Its body was not a dark yellow, or any other shade meant to blend into the environment. Rather its hide was a mix of dark and provocative reds, standing out in the desert like a fire burning in an ocean. For the bull actively reveled in challenge and conflict, and instead of trying to hide itself from potential predators, its biology welcomed the battle.

To remember a Scionor Bull was a feat only a few could attest to, for its appearances on village horizons were usually coupled with the rubble of annihilated populations. The beast was simply chaos incarnate, considered a herald of death itself to desert travelers and dwellers alike. No weapon could cut through its hide, and no army was strong enough to stop its charge.  

The village of Kuput was about to meet the herald of death. The fateful day had started normally enough. The villagers tended to their oasis, pulling up just enough water to sustain the population but never too much. Hunters came back from the sands, dragging the carcasses of large beasts for the cooks to be turned into spectacular meals. Children played in the village square, acting out stories of long-dead heroes from long-dead eras.

The normal day, however, was shattered by a series of screams at the edge of the village. A young lookout pointed to the horizon, where a Scionor Bull stood, bathed in the light of the rising sun. The sound of screams only grew as most of the villagers became aware of the herald of death. Some ran; they wouldn’t make it far enough to escape. Others, more elderly and wise, simply sat down on the sand, waiting for the Bull to reach the village.

The Scionor Bull charged with an astounding pace, flexing its massive hind legs, bounding forward with a cruel and bloodlust revile. Its spikelike horns, tougher than diamonds, glinted under the sun’s rays, eager to skewer its victims before it. 

The villages prepared for death as the bull approached, with friends exchanging regrets, mothers hugging their children tightly, and lovers holding hands in a desperate attempt to find peace in certain doom. In the desert, the Scionor Bull was life, the Scionor Bull was fear, the Scionor Bull was death.

Then, just as the bull was about to reach the village, a lasso of golden light flung out from behind the beast. The lace danced around the charging beast for a moment, before tangling itself between the bull’s chest and legs and wrapping the beast in an unbreakable bind. The invincible bull, herald of death, and the last thing many see, ungracefully stumbled and slammed into the sand sending a spire of dust into the air. 

Dylan yawned loudly, stretching his arms as he approached the fallen creature. The bull struggled against its bonds to no avail. It bucked and whined loudly, probably cursing out Dylan in every possible slur of bull language. The young mage was unimpressed by the bull’s insults, and snapped his fingers, causing the lace to squeeze the bull in an even tighter bind. Stepping up to the bull’s head, Dylan pulled a large and ornately decorated sword from his satchel, and with a single cut slashed the horn clean off. Tugging the piece into his bag, the young mage walked over to the stunned villagers. They looked at the oddly dressed stranger with looks of awe, gratitude, and terror. No one had even heard, nay, imagined that a single man could defeat a Scionor Bull with such ease. 

“ Here,” Dylan handed the closest woman the hilt of the sword. “This should be sharp enough to kill the beast. In the future, if you want to deter the bulls, grab large amounts of graphite and build a wall with it.”

The villagers stared speechlessly, as Dylan walked off to a nearby house. Several however away from him as he moved, though he didn’t seem to notice. Dylan reached the nearest wall, drew a doorway, and disappeared into a portal of rainbow light.

…

Marvin stood quietly, idly pondering where it all went wrong. The young suitor truly had no idea what he had done incorrectly. He thought he had been so careful, so absolutely meticulous with every one of his movements. Sure he had cut a few corners, and been a little creative with the tools he used, but besides that he followed the instructions perfectly. 

Yet, the burning kitchenette in front of him would likely disagree with that statement. 

The microwave had exploded, leaving shards of plastic embedded into the wall. The fridge managed to find itself upside down, barfing its contents all over the hardwood floors. The sink was currently the main object on fire, the plastic dishes melting in the heat. The chicken itself was badly burned, resembling more of a lump of coal than any sort of edible substance. The tomatoes had been turned into a mushy, rotted sauce, vibrating with malevolent energy. The cheese had simply disappeared, vanishing in a bright spark of light and sound.

Marvin himself did not look much better than his dish. A large cut had been bandaged up on his right hand, and several burn marks dotted his face. His shirt had a massive hole in it, and the towel in his hand was blackened and charred.

Marvin’s shoulders slumped, as he slowly came to the conclusion that the date tonight would be a disaster. He sat down in defeat, as the sink’s fire turned from red to purple, and threw the ripped towel in his hand to the floor. Everything was ruined.

Just when Marvin was about to sink into a pit of despair, there was a small knock on the door. Mrs. Chang peaked her head through the crack of the open door and raised her eyebrows as she saw Marvin sitting on the ground. The little landlady opened the hinges fully and blinked twice as she looked at the burning kitchenette. 

Mrs. Chang didn’t run, Mrs. Chang didn’t yell, and Mrs. Chang didn’t freak out. She simply sighed and held up a large red fire extinguisher she had preemptively brought with her. 

“I figure you need this,” she said, helping a weary Marvin to his feet, “Come. I will help you.”

…

The Helbrio Casino was a congregation of some of the most wretched scum and villains the world had ever seen. The Casino was located in the fourth layer of a place mortals could really only describe as hell. The land was made of a golden sand so valuable, if a man was able to carry away even a handful they would be richer than their wildest dreams. Yet each particle was as sharp as finely cut strips of glass, making it dubious if a thief would even have hands after an attempted robbery. The air was addicting, with every breath bringing on a wave of happiness that even the most potent drug couldn’t dare to compete with. Yet each breath would burn the lungs, creating both a metaphorical and literal hole in the chests of those captivated by the duplicitous poison. The water was so clear and so nourishing, that even a single sip could bring about the most refreshing feeling you would ever experience. Yet the sensation vanished as soon as the drink started the trudge down the back of your throat, never letting you feel truly hydrated and forcing a poor drinker to keep drinking until they were inflated like a balloon.

Casino itself was the crowning jewel of this fourth layer. Spanning several times wider than the city of Las Vegas, the casino was home to millions upon millions of machines, tables, and games. Players scuttled like rats from game to game, spinning, gambling, and losing till the end of time. It was an empire of greed, feeding on the everlasting emptiness of those who spent their lives amassing incredible wealth for themselves at the expense of others. 

Don Legrant was the owner of this fine establishment. He was a tall, and well-dressed thing. The demon somewhat resembled the shape of a man, with two arms, two legs, and two sadistic eyes. He had an old pointy face and a crown of flaming hair. His smile was accented with golden teeth, and a suit made out of the precious gems ornamented his chest. 

His days were often varied, running a big casino often left a lot of odd work to do, handling demons, dealing with complaints, and mapping out future wings with even more creative tortures. It was often a very unappreciated job, running a circle of hell, but Don Legrant found it to be very rewarding. When everything was running smoothly, the casino owner had a lot of free time. During these times he most often found himself at a poker table, absolutely annihilating any soul that attempted to win. 

Despite his constant victories, masses of players would flock to his table. While all the other machines offered sensory pleasures or a relief from their want and pain, his table offered a reward none of them could resist. Freedom. A key to escape to the next layer. A step infinitely closer out of this literal hellhole. 

But the masses didn’t just come for such a prize. Many also often came in a desperate folly to make back what they lost. You see, every time that they lost to Don Legrant, he would take a bit of their soul. Not the whole thing mind you, that was far too boring of the punishment. Rather he would take a sliver. The missing sliver exponentially expanded the emptiness of his customers until they could not even bear to exist if they weren’t wasting away in the light of his machines. 

Don Legrant found today to be an interesting day at the table, for today there was a living person. Over the millennia there had been a few who had entered his domain. Often mighty heroes who came down to free a soul that they felt was unjustly in his care, or budding wizards who wished to make a deal with him for power. All the fools perished, of course, finding themselves stuck in the same casino they were so desperate to oppose or partner with. 

Yet this living one was odd. He was unusually young, appearing no older than twenty. He did not say a single word. He had no request, no demand. He simply sat at the table, bid in a few slices of his soul, and started playing. Don, quite intrigued, didn’t comment. The boy played unusually carelessly for someone betting their soul, especially for someone living. Despite such recklessness, he won every hand he put in for. This was something Don became less and less intrigued by and found more and more irritating as the game went on. What made the entire situation worse, was the boy looked absolutely bored while playing. As if the game for his soul was nothing more than a measly chore. 

Finally, after an hour or so of playing, Don Legrant couldn’t sit silently anymore and allow this boy to keep winning hands. The demon gave the boy a large, shark-like smile. “You intrigue me little mage. You are quite good for someone your age.”

Dylan shrugged and did answer. 

Don was undeterred by the young mage’s silence and leaned closer until the boy could smell his sickly sweet breath. “I can also see you have quite the magical talent.”

“Thanks.”

“Yet…” said Don putting a hand to his chin, “I can tell you are not here of your own volition.”

At this, Dylan hesitated. 

“You are indebted to another…” The demon picked up a poker chip and examined it. “Are you sure you want to bet more of your soul to be indebted to me?”

At this, Dylan squinted his eyes, and Don smiled in his little victory. He had gotten under the boy’s skin. However, the demon’s smile faded as the young mage yawned loudly. 

“Well, boys. It’s been fun, but I do have to get back to my apartment soon” Dylan said nonchalantly. “How about we just finish up on this hand and let me walk away with the key?”

A mountain of ghostly chips materialized on the table. The equivalent of the boy’s entire soul. The fool had gone all in.

Usually Don didn’t care much for the entire souls of his victims. It was much more fun to see the remaining portions devolve in their search for their missing parts. But this individual interested him. He looked down at his cards and then at the cards on the table and smiled widely. Sitting there was an ace and king of hearts. The casino owner had a royal flush. 

“Are you sure you want to make this play my friend?” the Don asked

Dylan pushed his chips closer to the center of the table, “Yeah sure whatever.”

Don scrunched his nose slightly and called Dylan by placing a large golden key on the table. The rest of the table tapped out, leaving the two of them to reveal cards. Don laughed as Dylan overturned a feeble pair of twos. The demon slammed his cards down with a vindictive glare. 

“It appears you have misplayed this little mage.” Don licked his lips in anticipation to absorb the soul. “I have won this game.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “With that pair of twos?”

Don looked down at the table and found that where his king and ace one sat, was a pair of twos… Dylan pointed to his own hand, which had been revealed to be an ace and king. 

“No hard feelings man,” said Dylan with a shrug as he started scooping the glowing chips into a large bag. “I would be surprised to if a living kid beat my ass-”

“YOU CHEATER!” roared Don Legrant standing up to his full towering height. “You will suffer for this insult.”

“Woah woah,” said Dylan raising his hands, “I didn’t do anything wrong. Just because you somehow saw a pair of twos as a good hand doesn’t make me the bad guy!”

Don Legrant’s eyes burned red with fire. The demon raised his hands to the sky and a massive fireball appeared between his palms. With a mighty throw, he cast it towards Dylan’s direction filling the attack with all his frustration and hate. Instead of running, crying, or begging for mercy like Don would have expected most mortals to do, Dylan simply smiled. The mage raised his hands, and a large glowing golden ring appeared, catching and freezing the fireball in its grasp. With a small grunt of effort, Dylan constricted the explosion into the size of a baseball. The room watched stunned as Dylan grinned up back at the demon.

“Finally, I’ve been trying to get you to throw something at me all night!”

Don was stunned for a moment, before yelling at his security to seize the young mage. Before anyone could move, however, Dylan snapped his fingers together and a chalk outline glowed around his feet. The floor beneath the boy melted into a rainbow glow, and he fell down and out of hell back to his home. 

…

Dylan landed in a small bathtub in a dark bathroom. Groaning, the young mage struggled to an upward position, careful to keep the captured fireball raised above his head. The explosion had been contained by the golden ring, resembling a miniature fiery Saturn. Sighing, Dylan fumbled around with his satchel and pulled out the Malton Moon Flower and the Horn of the Scionor Bull. Closing his eyes, Dylan took a deep breath. The glowing ring and fireball expanded, lighting up the bathroom like a miniature sun. The mage then grabbed the flower and placed it into the center of the fireball causing the blast to turn a light and brilliant pink. Finally, he raised the back end of the horn and directed the pink fire to flow into the spike and solidify in a deep purple liquid. 

Dylan then struggled his way out of the tub and flicked on the lights. He then cracked his neck and straightened his bag. The young mage, who battled mountain monsters, giant bulls, and demons, looked at the doorway out of the bathroom almost apprehensively, as if he was scared to see what he may find on the other side. Taking a deep breath, Dylan summoned a golden ring around his wrist, and slammed open the door, landing in a combat position.

Dylan was prepared to see a room less intact than if it had been ravaged by a Scionor Bull. He expected the walls to have been covered in odd substances like Mount Verdoom, or even to see the room up in flames as if Don Legrant had cast a fireball into it. What he didn’t expect to see was Marvin calmly wiping a countertop with a wet towel and rag in a sparkling kitchen. 

“Ayyy, you are back,” said Marvin grinning, “Took you long enough!”

Dylan slowly raised himself out of the combat stance. “Everything is… ok?” he said slowly in a suspicious tone. “

“Pfft,” waved Marvin, “Of course it is, it was just a little cooking and cleaning.”

Marvin walked over to the microwave and pulled out a dish of chicken parmesan. Dylan frowned as he looked at the microwave. Had it always been so… blue? He could have sworn the machine had been black when he left.

“So…?” prompted Marvin snapping Dylan out of his pondering. “Did you get it?”

Dylan blinked “Right yes.” He raised up the bull’s horn. “This infusion should be the final ingredient you need to complete the dish.”

Marvin reached for the horn, but Dylan pulled it back and raised a finger. “Once I give this to you my debt is fully paid?”

Marvin rolled his eyes, “Yes.”

“You are even counting last month’s rent?”

“Yes yes,” said Marvin waving his arm dismissively. “Just pour it on.”

Dylan grinned and poured the purple liquid onto the dish. The substance permeated the layers of chicken, cheese, and tomato, and after a minute, the dish tinted color slightly, as if it had been put through an iPhone filter, and started to emit the most beautiful of aromas.

Marvin took a large breath, letting the smell dance in his nose. “Ahhhh, this chicken parmesan smells fantastic.” 

Dylan frowned, “Marvin, I keep telling you, this isn’t Chicken Parmesan, it is Rugar-”

“Yes yes,” said Marvin waving his hand once more, “A traditional Eltoinian dish and blah blah blah.”

“It’s not blah blah blah,” scolded Marvin, “This dish has been around since before the Earth had even formed!”

Marvin shrugged, “A rose by any other name and all that.”

Dylan frowned, “What the hell does that mean?”

Marvin rubbed the back of his neck “AH right sorry, keep forgetting you aren’t from here. Tina and I have to catch you up on Shakespeare soon.”

 “If you two don’t spend every waking minute in each other’s arms that is,” said Dylan rolling his eyes “I still have no idea how you managed to bewitch Tina to fall for you.” 

“I must be magical as well,” grinned Marvin as he tucked the Chicken Parmesan, “Maybe I’ll start opening portals to other dimensions and battling monsters. I’ll probably be even better than you”

“HA, that would be a sight. I’m surprised you even managed to follow a recipe book without burning down the kitchen.”

Marvin assumed an offended air “Did you really have such little faith in me?”

“Yes,” said Dylan, completely deadpanned. “Less even.”

“Well, I guess I proved you wrong,” said Marvin pointing his chin in the air, “So HA.”

Dylan raised his arms in surrender. “I guess I can’t argue with the results.”

As Marvin moved to finish cleaning the counter, Dylan sat down on a nearby chair stretching his right arm, smiling as he was thankful to be home. Well as close as a home he had here on earth anyway. It was nice to see the small little flat clean for once. Dylan’s eyes glided from surface to surface, and then suddenly locked on to a small oddity. 

“Marvin?” asked Dylan suspiciously as his smile slowly melted. 

“Yes?” asked Marvin in a slightly high-pitched voice

“Why is our fridge upside down?”