Despite damages to the castle from Tirek’s attack, morale remained high. All of Canterlot, nobles and commoners alike, cheered and celebrated the defeat of an enemy that seemed certain to end their way of life. Everypony was celebrating. Everypony, that is, except for the two at the center of it all. Celestia and Luna sat poised in the throne room using centuries of political training to hide their grinding teeth as they either stressed over keeping the cheerful cacophony from spiraling out of control or enduring periods of tedium as some nobles took a break from celebrating to revisit the old traditions of inane whining or complaining about how things could have been better handled.

“And what is taking those cleanup crews so long!?” A well-dressed mare at the base of the dais ranted. Luna couldn’t recall her name. Or care for that matter. “Frankly, the scenery looks better without those lowborn apartments. More importantly, what about my skylight?! While I’m waiting for repairs, lady Shining Jewel is blah blah networking blah blah I’m petty blah blah blah I look like a blimp in anything I wear blah blah…”

Luna closed her eyes and took a breath to keep her mind on track as the blithering noble polluted the air with her petty whining. When images tossing said noble out of the castle window, no need to worry about damages as it hadn’t been replaced yet, became more pervasive she decided to move her mind onto other matters before she was tempted to make that daydream a reality. Matters like her fellow princesses.

Luna dearly longed to be with Twilight and the bearers at their new castle. She also couldn’t help but feel a bit envious to the newest princess for gaining a castle that had the grandiose of Canterlot Castle but lacked the overdressed parasites due to being near a small town. Then again, Canterlot used to be a small town. Luna took a bit of perverse pleasure knowing Twilight would share the sisters’ pain in a century or two. Then there was Cadence to consider. Poor thing. It might seem she was getting off easy having to leave for the Crystal Empire but the matter of introducing the citizens to modern life was…well…

**

“Princess, please! You must help us! My family lives in constant fear of this unnatural light and-”

“DEAR FAUST!! Just how many times do I have to say this!?! Elevators don’t link to Tartarus, hero sandwiches aren’t made of heroes, and THE LIGHTBULBS AREN’T TRYING TO STEAL YOUR SOUL!!!”

**

…it was a work in progress.

Thoughts of colleagues and superstitious supplicants were dashed as a unicorn maid came from behind and whispered to Celestia, “Your Majesty, word has come from the guard scouts in the country side. We are code obsidian.”

Luna gave no indication of her worry aside from a sight widening of her eyes, but she actually had to fight the urge to charge from the throne room. Unless things have changed in emergency protocol then a code obsidian would be…

Celestia frowned in thought before giving a nod and replying, “Very well, Marigold. Tell the chef that ‘my pizza has rotten eggs.’” The maid nodded in answer and teleported away. Before Luna could ask about the odd passphrase, Celestia stood and announced in an apologetic voice, “While I realize this may be abrupt, I’m afraid an emergency has arisen, which means day court will be closed for the rest of the day.”

“Wait, your majesty! What about my skylight!?”

Celestia smiled pleasantly at the obnoxious mare. If the idiot noble actually knew Celestia that well, she’d know that particular smile meant running would be a good idea at the moment. “Well, if you insist, there is actually something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, Lady Flint. If you like, I can ignore the emergency in favor of listening to your grievance until one of the royal accountants arrive to take a closer look at your tax records-”

“Well, you’re obviously busy, Princess, so I’ll just leave you to it, bye!” Flint babbled before bolting from the throne room at speeds that might have impressed Rainbow Dash.

“A pity other problems couldn’t be resolved so easily,” Celestia sighed tiredly before lighting her horn to teleport Luna and herself away.

Luna looked around and recognized one of the hidden sanctums in the castle where equipment and supplies for various emergencies were kept. From the various runes and wardings carved into the wall, it seemed that her earlier suspicions were confirmed. “So, despite time that’s passed, I take it code obsidian still means…?” Luna trailed off expectantly.

“Yes, I’m afraid so, Luna,” Celestia answered grimly before strolling down the hall with a determined frown, “we have a demon incursion.”

Luna sighed as she walked alongside her sister. “I wish I could say I was surprised. Between Cerberus’s absence and Tirek ripping a tear in reality long enough to toss us into his old cell, I would be more surprised if one of the other prisoners didn’t notice and take advantage of one of those holes in security.” They continued down the hall in silence aside from the sound of their hoof falls on marble before Luna spoke up again. “So, what are we facing?”

“Good news? Nothing as severe as, say, Grogar or Arabus. More likely some self-serving subordinates and a few loners. Bad news. They are cautious enough that we didn’t know they were gone until after I sent some scouts to check the prison in the wake of Tirek’s escape.”

Luna grimaced. In some ways, this proved worse than news of some greater evil escaping. At least with fiends like Tirek there were usually signs and trails left resulting from hubris or rampages. These lessor ones tended to wait in the shadows and work through third parties until they were ready. By that point there were usually quite a few casualties. Sometimes they even set events in motion to release greater evils as a distraction. Still… “If nothing else, you seem to at least have a plan in place. Tell me,” she looked back to Celestia curiously, “what sort of safeguard comes with such an odd passphrase?”

Celestia stopped in the middle of the hallway and closed her eyes. Luna couldn’t be sure, but she seemed…hesitant. In her experience, that never promised good things. “Well…it involves bringing in an advisor.”

Luna blinked in confusion before her eyes narrowed. “Tia,” she said sternly, “there are only so many possibilities for advisors that could claim to be an authority on demons.”

“And in this case, it would be a demon. More specifically, a demon lord,” Celestia said nervously.

The admission was met with a tense silence. The two sisters sat in the hallway, the older fidgeting nervously while the younger simply stared. Eventually, Luna broke the silence. “Tia. In my studies, my career as a guardian of the night, and my own unfortunate experience, I’ve learned enough to recognize signs of demonic influence. The fact you have shown none since my return is enough to keep me from blasting you through a wall and immobilizing you as a precaution.” Her eyes narrowed further before she continued, “That said, I expect a very good explanation.”

“Well, for one thing, he is sorcery born rather than pureblood de-”

“THAT JUST MAKES IT WORSE!” Luna shouted in outrage. It wasn’t quite Canterlot Voice level, but certainly loud enough to make Celestia flatten her ears and wince in these cramped quarters. “At least purebloods are merely acting on the nature they were born with. But a sorcery born?!? Some perverted upstart that would willingly discard their soul for demon ascension!?! The acts of sheer cruelty and malice they commit for their rituals and quest for power is enough to-”

“It was by accident.”

Silence once again took the hall as Luna stared. “By accident,” she repeated flatly. “You say he…accidently a demon ascension? What, did he glance a sorcerer’s masterwork spell at a flea market, trip through a portal to an abyssal plane, then take a nap in the throne of the ruling demon lord who picked then to take stroll?”

“Actually, that’s not too far from what he told me,” Celestia answered with a sardonic grin. “You see, what happed was…”

**

Long, looong ago in another world.
“I don’t know, Bill. This seems like a pretty stupid idea. Even compared to your other ideas, and that’s saying something.”

“Oh come on, Fred! This is a once in a life time opportunity!” The two youths were sitting in a darkened room lit only by candles surrounding a chalk pentagram. Bill leaned in toward his friend and whispered conspiringly as he held up a leather-bound book in front, “Are you going to say you aren’t curious? That you wouldn’t want to get a glimpse into the mind of one of the ancestors seeking answers to the universe, even to the point of dealing with mysterious powers beyond their ken?”

“No,” Fred flatly said as he gazed at the book with lidded eyes and then back to Bill, “and that’s before the fact I know you got this from the homeless guy on the street corner who wears tinfoil to protect his thoughts from government-bred brain slugs.”

Tip:
No matter what your reasons for starting the business, always confirm the authenticity, or lack there of, of any book, artifact, or symbol before proceeding with rituals. Failing to do so, at best, could see you turned inside out and deep-fried. At worst, you may forfeit all chance for respect and intercourse for the rest of your lifetime (or lifetimes depending on the ritual used).

“…Alright fine!” Bill snapped as he tossed the book into Fred’s hands. “What matters is that it’s real enough for those hot Goth chicks from the café and you’re the only one of us that can read enough Latin to sound legit. I’m including you in a sweet deal, dude, so the least you can do is cut the flak and get familiar with the thing before they get here and get familiar with us. Which should be in about,” Bill glanced impatiently at his watch, “fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, okay,” Fred said exasperatedly, rolling his eyes as he opened the book at a random page. He alternated between irritated sighs and muttering as he shifted through lines for something legible. “Okay, let’s see. Hmmm. locatorem c…ccasus incidunt, sit maior vires in…unum? Geeze, it reads as though some five -year-old found google translate and banged random phrases on the keyboard he thought sounded cool. That or, if the book really is that old, the author spent too many months snorting incense and lamp oil.” Before he could comment further, the runes in the page blazed alight. He wisely decided now would be a good time to toss this thing out the window, but the idea came too late as he was consumed by a bright light. Fred’s pained and terrified scream filled the apartment before ultimately being overwhelmed and silenced by a concussive blast that shook the apartment.

The apartment room remained silent aside from the occasional spark of exposed wire and creak of straining wood. Bill groaned, shoved aside the broken furniture pieces and blearily opened his eyes which widened in shock at the sight around him. The place looked like someone set a bomb off. The only thing that seemed untouched was the book lying in the center of the room. Ground zero was marked nearby in the form of a large scorch mark where Fred used to be. Bill numbly stood and made his way to the center of the room and picked up the book. For a time, he simply stood there staring in shock at the book, the scorch mark, and back to the book.

….

….

“Nope.” The declaration was punctuated by a dull thunk as the tossed book landed in what remained of the trash bin. “Guess it’s plan B then. Now,” Bill glanced around until he spotted the familiar pile of scrap that was the dresser and started digging, “maybe that photo-shopped picture me and Ozzie Osborn survived?”

**

“So he didn’t plot for demon ascension. He was…pushed into it?”

“Yes.”

“By his sex-starved friend.”

“Yes.”

“For the quest of coitus with random, attractive females?”

“….Y-yes.”

“And you believe he is our best chance of survival against a demon invasion.”

“……Yes?”

“…”

“…”

“…Tia. The wall to your left seems the least reinforced and, as such, least likely to cause severe bodily harm to a pony flying through it. I’ll give you five seconds to get comfortable in front of it.”

“Wait, wait, WAIT! Sister, there is more to this. Just hear me out!”

Luna stared blankly at her now very nervous older sister before sighing, “Fine. I’ll simply keep the spell charged until you are finished and then I’ll decide whether or not to use it.”

“T-thank you, Luna,” Celestia said with before swallowing nervously. The thanks were very much sincere. Despite popular belief and a thousand years head start in growth, Celestia knew who would win in a fight. While Celestia possessed a bit more in terms of experience and raw power, she was, at heart, a diplomat and political strategist. Luna, on the other hoof, proved to have the sharper reflexes, intuition and skill when it came to combat.

Also, she really, really liked to hit things as a stress reliever. Something that a griffin ambassador learned the hard way when he got too forward during a meeting over a thousand years ago. Poor, gelded buzzard.

“Anyway, without having the knowledge and experience with such things, the Abyssal plane that provided him power also acted as a prison or limbo. His next interaction with his home wouldn’t be until long after civilization fell apart and gave rise to savage groups. One in particular managed to stumble over remains of the manuscript, discovering the power its rituals offered. They hoped to gain more by contacting the demon who ruled the plane it linked to,” at this point, Celestia smiled, almost sadistically. “However, since they only had remains of the manuscript to go by, they had no idea of the…change in management.”

**

Yes! Finally! I’m comin’ back, baby! The demon thought giddily. He couldn’t remember how much time had passed since he made the mistake of reading that book for his horn dog friend, but he knew it was too fricking long for anyone to be alone. The Abyssal plane gave him some amazing abilities: shape shifting, far sight, complete control over the landscape. It also helped that the last guy seemed to have left behind memories, not books but actual memories, that I could draw on as sort of an ultimate readme directly connected to my brain. When he recovered from his panic attack at arriving in the then formless void, he spent nearly a century having as much fun as anyone might after discovering godlike power. At least, he did until he realized the drawback. He was alone.

The closest he came to having company was using his power to create artificial beings and likenesses of people based on his memory. Yes, it seemed pretty cool to hang out with super models and rock stars, but…Honestly? It basically equated to making a sock puppet to talk to because you didn’t have real friends. They were really cool and life-like puppets, sure, but still just puppets.

From the moment he made his grim discovery, he began tearing through his predecessor’s memories for answers and ways to get out. Sadly, the news he found turned out to be anything but good. Firstly, he couldn’t actually leave until summoned. That meant the only chance he would get at breathing fresh air and seeing sunlight would be waiting for a summons by some random psychopath to drag him across the void. Assuming they even found his summon name. That led to a new issue. Despite being a new ruler, he was stuck with his predecessor’s name until the next time he was summoned. He determined that he would change it to his own name at the first opportunity…and realized with horror that he couldn’t remember it. He remembered culture, concepts, and general events from that time but anything involving personal experience escaped him. Even the time his name was used on the night he used the spell book came up blank. He still remembered Bill at least…the dumbass. Did his predecessor’s memories crowd out some of his own? Or maybe they were lost as part of a price for the spell that brought him here? Either way, he basically had to make do with what he had.

Still, there were a few bright spots. Being in the odd status of human turned demon rather than a pureblood seemed to offer a few loopholes and exceptions to certain rules though. For one thing, the memories suggested the possibility of detecting and hijacking a summon spell in order to appear in place of the intended demon. He thought it seemed strange it never occurred to the last guy to try it. Nothing hinted at it being some taboo or presenting danger worse than anything else in this business. Unfortunately, like with the issue of name changing, he couldn’t do anything until he was formally summoned at least once. It seems changing anything in this ‘default setting’ required an active summons to access whatever mechanism and spell work managed the summoning. As luck would have it, though, someone seems to have found the ritual.

He quickly braced himself before accepting the summons and completing ritual. First came the feeling of vertigo as the spell grabbed him and pulled him through the void. Next came the disorientation from the change of scenery as he went from the quiet solitude of his sanctuary to being surrounded by thunderous echoes of hundreds of chanting voices. He opened his eyes to take stock of his new surroundings and found much what he expected.

The ritual had taken place in a massive underground room lit by wall mounted torches. The demon stood on an elevated platform in the center surrounded by stadium-style earthen benches filled to capacity by robed figures whose chanting had started to fade in favor of awed silence. Directly in front of the platform stood a wizened old man wearing his robe with the hood down and facing toward the summon circle with arms out stretched. If his positioning wasn’t enough to guess this guy called the shots, then the superior quality of his robes and bold posture would have. At seeing the demon, the leader actually hesitated. Understandable. While demons could shapeshift, they tended to have a default form in summonings. Much like the name, this was stuck until the summons provided a chance to make changes. Whatever you might say about the last demon lord, he knew how to ‘dress to impress.’ The form stood twelve feet tall, sixteen when not hunched over, had a prehensile tail as thick as a man’s arm ending in a serrated barb, and had massive black wings that currently hung over the shoulders like a cloak. It was lean, but sported corded muscle with chiseled definition. Leathery crimson skin with occasional patches of scales covered it from the top of the head to bottom of its clawed feet. Massive, curled goat horns framed the head from both sides and a crest of horns jutted from the top of the skull arranged in such a way that a bone crown seemed to rest between the goat horns. The face was something only a mother could love. Actually, scratch that. Even a mother would have looked at that face and yelled ‘Kill it with fire!’ at the top of her lungs. Crimson flesh stretched gauntly over the skull, an empty space occupied the area of the nose, and a lipless mouth treated the world to the sight of a permanent grin filled with razor-sharp teeth. Yellow, slitted eyes reflected torch light much as a cat’s would.

The man’s hesitation lasted only a moment before resuming his confident posture. Oh yeah, the demon thought sarcastically as he stared into those hungry eyes and mad grin, This guy is definitely your stereotype, power hungry cult leader. He glanced briefly at three kneeling figures between him and the cult leader. He couldn’t tell much about them as they were covered in tattered cloaks, though he had a sneaking suspicion about why they were here. Welp, might as well see what this nutjob wants. A sound like crunching stone filled the air as the demon cleared his throat before speaking in an unholy bass voice that even made zealots in the crowd shiver. “Speak, mortal. Why do you call me?”

“Great Agor, Lord of the pit!” -Man I hate that name, the Demon thought glumly- “I, your humble servant” –Pfft. Yeah sure, pull the other one – “lead the great clan, Black Heart! We seek only to aid your spread your influence in this wasteland that we may bask in your glory and…blah blah-butcher the unworthy-blah blah- lost glory-blah.”

‘Agor’ quickly tuned out most of what the guy’s rant in order to focus on what was said in between the lines of bootlicking and pandering to the audience of mad dogs. Evidently, it wasn’t long after his book escapade that the world leaders seemed to have collectively said ‘fuck it’ and pushed their little red buttons for instant apocalypse. Between the nuclear fallout and preexisting damage from pollution and releases of then unknown black magic, the world was pretty much wasted leaving only a few pockets of livable space for the surviving scraps of humanity. ‘Livable’ being a relative term. This particular pocket housed four clans of various lunatics and a smattering of small villages doing their best to eke out a living while hiding from the clans. Somehow, the leader of clan Black Heart got his crazy mitts on what remained of the spell book and got the bright idea to bring in a demon lord to help wipe out the other clans and enslave the remaining villages. Agor couldn’t say he was all that surprised that this would be how humanity went out, he suspected much of his mortal life was spent as a cynic, but it would have been nice to see a little bit of dignity in the end.

He focused back on the cult leader as he seemed to finally be winding down. “And to mark the beginning of your glorious reign, my followers and I have seen fit to bring you appropriate tribute.” At the snap of his fingers, cultist stepped forward long enough to rip the cloaks off the three figures revealing nubile, mostly naked girls ranging from their early to mid-twenties. Agor realized that some part of his humanity clearly remained as he stared at the beauties before him.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have felt his heart breaking at what he saw.

The center pale skinned girl had long auburn hair that twisted into a braid hanging over her shoulder. Her slender body had ample curves that didn’t detract from her grace. Grey eyes stared at him from an emotionless, sharp angled face with something resembling a cold professionalism. There was no weeping, zealotry, or raging at what was happening. This is simply how things were, so she accepted and obeyed. The only thing slightly more disturbing than the attitude was the uncanny facial features shared with the cult leader. The one to the left seemed to have a slighter build compared to the other two. Perhaps she had some Asian ancestry? He couldn’t tell for sure as her silky black hair hung about her face and she kept her head down. She refused to make a sound, almost as if making noise would somehow make things worse, but Agor could tell she was sobbing her heart out from the frequent drops of tears in front of her and her constant shuddering. Lastly, there was the girl on the right. She was the more buxom of the three and had a heart shaped face framed by mahogany colored hair that cascaded down her shoulders. This one’s state hit him the hardest as hazel eyes stared at him with no emotion whatsoever. This wasn’t the obedience and indifference of the first girl. This gaze showed someone who had something broken deep within her soul leaving her an empty husk.

Agor looked back at the cult leader and it took all of his willpower not to step over the circle and tear off the perverted grin he saw on the guy’s face before slaughtering every mad dog in that hole. Demons, even demon lords, were bound by any circle they were summoned to until business was concluded, or the summoner was dumb enough to slip up, but Agor could break it at his discretion. It would have hurt like a bitch, but at that moment it would have been worth it. Another idea came to him, however.

He looked to the leader and spoke “Very well. For this offering and your loyalty, I will fill this land with blood and clan Black Heart will be established as the greatest of the four clans.”

The cult leader grinned, “Excellent! We have an accord, Great Lord.” With that acknowledgement, the circle faded.

Agor looked around and nodded approvingly, “So be it. We shall begin plans for our conquest. Just as soon as the Feast of Conquers is concluded.”

“Indeed! Excellent Great Lord I-” the cult leader blinked, and his grin slipped a little. “The…what, Great Lord?”

“The Feast of Conquers. The ceremonial meal that is always held to mark the occasion of a successful bargain and toast the coming death of our enemies.” Agor raised an eyebrow and looked down on the leader from his considerable height. “You did remember to prepare such a vital ceremony before dragging me all the way from my throne in the void…Yes?”

“I, I’m afraid I remember no such feast mentioned in the rituals, Great Lord.”

Silence hung in the air as Agor stood regarding the robed man before him. The silence stretched, and members of the audience began to fidget nervously. After a full minute, he slowly leaned down until his hellish face hovered inches from the Cult leader’s now sweating one. “Do you question…me?” he rumbled softly as distant thunder. Considering his heated feelings at the sight of the girls, it didn’t take much effort to add menace to the tone of his voice.

“Never!” the leader squeaked before clearing his throat and trying again. “That is, uh, I would never question you, Great Lord. It’s just that, um,” he pulled out the tattered book from his robes and quickly thumbed through it. “We seem to, uhh, be missing that page. But worry not!” he quickly assured. “The feast will be prepared quickly. Just as soon as we can prepare the…the…” He blinked and asked meekly, “G-great Lord. Uh, what exactly is furnished at such a feast?”

Tip:
You can learn a lot about a summoner from their set up. Some forms of magic practically rewrite the rules of the cosmos providing virtually any result you could want. The downside is doing so exponentially increases the risk and danger as doing so removes many safeties inherent in those rules which leaves the spell crafter to consider every possible disaster and compensate in the spell design. Therefore, a real professional will meticulously memorize every lore, warning, and rule behind a spell to the point of obsession. They may study and theorize for years or decades before actually casting said spell to insure they succeed the first time as they understand the cost of failure. Even with the promise of ultimate power, a pro wouldn't spare a second glance at a book with so much as a tear in one of its pages. Use extreme caution in dealing with such summoners. Amateurs? Assuming they don't die instantly from the first reading, they can provide a thousand and one uses to an entrepreneurial fiend. Just remember: Prep is for pros, assumptions for demon hos.

The demon lord stood straight spoke grandly, “Why, only the grandest of dishes. The most versatile, decadent, and tempting of meals. A meal truly fit for the palate of conquerors…Pizza!”

The leader’s fear was momentarily forgotten in a haze of confusion and his face blanked, “The hell’s a Pizza?”

A great sigh filled the hall. Of course, that would be one of the great losses from the apocalypse. Well, that just provides a few more delays. He snapped his claws and a list appeared in the air before floating down to the cult leader’s waiting hands. The robed man frowned as looked, “Some of these ingredients will not be easy to come by.” An irritated growl quickly changed the man’s tone, “But not to worry! It will make it all the more rewarding!”

“Good. Now take your followers and leave this place until tomorrow night. I will use this time to become more,” Agor glanced at the girls pointedly, “acquainted with my offerings.” He had to hide a wince as the line managed to elicit a soft whimper from the weeping girl.

Then he had to keep from taking the man’s head off for the perverted look of understanding that crossed his face. “Ah, yes. Of course, Great Lord. We shall leave you to your pleasures.” At a gesture, the audience rose and took their leave from the chamber.

It took roughly half an hour, but the chamber was finally cleared leaving only Agor and the kneeling females before him. Eventually, Agor began waving his hand over the ground and a square patch began glowing and reshaping itself. As he worked he spoke, “There are many ways one may take a measure of another’s soul. Some do so through combat. Others choose careful study. Some even fall on magic to do all of the work.” As he spoke, the three girls observed the patch that now started shaping into a plate with various markings. “Myself? I favor a particular contest. One that harnesses vices such as greed, envy, and lust for power to strip away the layers revealing the soul beneath. It is a contest that requires skill, cunning, and more than a little luck. It is called-” the plate solidified into a board enclosed by multi-colored squares and holding a number of tiny figures “-monopoly.

“But let’s make one thing clear!” he barked making the girls jump. “I am, and always will be, the car.”

All three girls had various reactions.

The middle girl stared at the board with quirked eyebrow, “What is monopoly?”

The weeping girl from the left looked up through her hair for the first time showing stunning, if currently confused, almond-shaped green eyes. “What’s a car?”

The last, bless her heart, finally showed some emotion as a spark of longing showed in her eyes gazing toward the figurines. “Can…can I be the bunny?” she whispered softly.

Author's Note

A little something I started writing to get the creative juices flowing and remove writers' block from other projects. Constructive critisim welcome and hope you enjoy.

Also, tip segements were done to keep to spirit of how to guides. Does it work as is or is it too disruptive and better left at superscripts1 connected to author notes?