Who thought D&D would come so handy one day?

A long time ago, my mentor, Merlin explained to me how magic really works. I was his best pupil, he said, to carry his legacy forward.

Unfortunately, Merlin is no longer around to vet me.

Most people just see me as an annoyance, a slacker nerd with no aptitude for anything.

That annoyance only grows when they find I am one of the greatest mages in the world.

Many mages tried to show me my place. They all fell flat on their faces.

Other mages tried more lethal routes. All of them failed.

As the mage society started unifying in opposition to me, the attacks on me grew deadlier and yet equally impotent.

Which brings us to the events of today.

The great grandmaster Andlurth, the seventh of his name and leader of the Archmages, and the Dark Mage Kovith, the first Hellspawn, have jointly challenged me to a magical duel, in front of an audience that includes the High Council of Mages and the Kings of the continent. The Emperor of the Rhoyyylanth is the Chair.

As we take our respective positions, the two mages start chanting in unison, using the black speech:

“Skaat burz goth

Durb tala ul

Pau ishi grish

Nagraufrom! Nagraufrom! Nagraufrom!”

“Come dark lord! We summon you, Morgoth!!”

I sigh. An evil God. How predictable.

As Morgoth appears inside the runic circle, I hear a few gasps. The audience shifts uncomfortably.

I sigh again, step forward, and raise a finger:

“A giant hand from space appears and swats Morgoth like a fly.”

On cue, a giant hand from space actually appears, and actually swats Morgoth like a fly.

The resulting gore is something to behold.

The arena goes into a hushed silence for a minute, then explodes:

“Charlatan!!”

I sigh again.

Someone knocks the door.

"Who is it?"

"I am the hero, please open up!"

"What do you want? I am retired. I had enough getting beaten by you and your team"

"I just want to talk. Please open up. I brought drinks!"

"What?"

The villain opens the door. The hero is standing there. Holding a pack of his favorite beers in his hands. Trying hard to give the villain a warm smile.

"What are you doing here? Can't a bad guy enjoy his retirement without you do-gooders bothering him?"

"Aren't you gonna invite your old friend inside?"

"Last time you guys almost killed me. Now we are friends?" The villain takes a look around. He does not trust the hero but he is curious to know what it is all about.

"Okay. Come inside."

A few minutes later, they are sitting at the table, watching football and drinking beers. They talk about roaring gas prices, inflation and the good old days when housing was affordable.

Then the hero changed the subject:

"We want you back!"

"Who is we?"

"Me and my team."

"Why is that? Don't you remember why I retired? You made fun of me. You Told me I am incompetent and stupid. You abused me emotionally. Now you want me back?"

"Well, you were kinda clumsy, let's be honest, but I admit we went too far." He continued: "The thing is, the new villain is just too good. He is ruthless, has zero red lines. Only uses practical plans. Not complex stupid ones, and he hates monologues, so far he killed three other heros. We thought he would play with them. Give us time. But he just killed them instantly. And he live streamed their death on social media."

The villain laughed: "Wow. You guys are fucked."

"You were fun. Kind hearted. As much as a villain could be. And had your rules. Like giving us time to rescue our friends, making cool but impractical plans, making last minute mistakes. you know. You did your shit, we did ours and the life went on."

"So to put it plainly, you are facing an unstoppable, ruthless, strong and smart villain and you want me back. Because I am fallible, indecisive, weak and stupid?"

"I would use nicer words.... but technically yes." The hero answered.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" The villain shouted.

"Wait...I swear we will not make fun of you, please. We will try not to beat you up too much."

"Get out!"

"We will pay handsomely. We will be nicer to you. No...no ..."

The villain throw the hero out of his house and shut the door. The hero kept talking from behind the door. There was a can of unopened beer on the table. The villain sat on the sofa, turned the television volume up, popped open the can and took a big sip. It was cold and delightful. Like revenge.

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🤣 nice!

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The young, naive man sat next to ‘Father’ Geniol. The Vatican had assigned him to be the father’s latest apprentice. Daniel had just recently taken on the vestments of a holy man but quickly found himself in trouble for his ‘carnal desires.’ His choices were to suffer excommunication or to become the apprentice to the Father here. Daniel took the later knowing while it was almost a guaranteed death sentence, at least he would be welcome into the kingdom of Heaven. It would… just be a little quicker than he had originally planned, thought Daniel.

The Father took a swig from his holy water font(?) “Father did you just take a drink of holy water?”, asked Daniel. Turning to Daniel and no longer looking at the road ahead, the scent of whiskey overwhelmed Daniel. “Yeap, thank our Lord Jameson. Amen” Daniel was appalled at this blasphemy but held his tongue least he earn yet another black eye from the Father.

Barely missing an oncoming truck, the Father swerved the car somehow sensing the danger without at glance. “Come now ‘child’ if the son of man’s blood is wine a nip or two of alcohol only brings us closer to him.” Daniel could only bite his tongue harder and may also have wet himself.

Looking a bit disappointed the Father put the font back into his front pocket and again looked at the road. Daniel had witnessed the power of this holy man next to him. His aura was palpable when he stepped into a room as he would quickly slur some prayers in Latin, Greek and other languages. These prayers seemed to seal the room and cause the demons to reel in fear. The Father would then approach the demon who would scream and plead. Then with a simple touch the Father would exorcise the abomination.

The Father and Daniel were on their way to a mansion where something powerful had taken hold of the manor’s youngest. Whatever it was had slain a fellow priest and drove another mad. It was such cases that the Vatican would send Father Geniol and by extension his apprentice.

Arriving later that day, the Father quickly gathered his possessions and practically dragged Daniel inside. “Are we not going to rest and pray,” asked Daniel. “No rest for the wicked,” came the reply from the Father with an uncharacteristic chuckle. They were ushered upstairs to a room with a door barely on its hinges. The Father removed his Font (the same one as he had previously drank from) and made a big spectacle of splashing the door frame before the worried parents.

As if on cue the occupant of the room started screeching and scratching. Daniel thought for a second and realized this one spoke Latin. Previously these demons spoke either an unfamiliar language or what he assumed was the language of Hell. Quickly entering the door the Father started approaching the possessed child who was in the corner. Daniel heard the demon shout in Latin. “Devourer please come no closer, let me leave this child.” The small hands of the child pointed at him. “Devourer why do you want to eat me, that corrupted man’s soul would be much more satisfying. Just leave me…”

The Father finished approaching the child and with a forceful shove, the child fell limply to the floor. The sense of foreboding emanating from the fragile frame gone. Thinking back at the other exorcisms, Daniel realized that every one of the possessed had gestured similarly in his direction. He had thought they were pointing to the door but no it was him…

Daniel felt behind him at the doorknob and quickly retracted his hand… it was scalding hot. Father Geniol seeing the understanding in Daniels face, started to approach him.

I was drinking another bottle of Vodka when Brother James approached me with a few exorcism assignments.

"Bevra? Baron of 6th Hell? Pfft, that's small fucking fry. You should know by now I'm only called upon to take on the big bad boys," I snorted.

James bowed and showed another assignment. Mammon. Duke of Greed in the 9th Hell. Now we're talking. Now, this is the sort of challenge I live for. Can't wait to fuck this one up and show him who's boss. But first, I still have to attend one of those boring customary mission briefings.

James reminded me not to be rude, and no profanities in the presence of the cardinal. Eh, kid, you seem to be forgetting, you might not like my ways, but I'm the best exorcist you got. I just love this job so much, well, most of it, besides the boring briefings.

Ah yes, Mammon is wrecking shit in New York again. I nod, smile, and pretend to pay attention while the cardinal is yapping away. He glares at the vodka bottle I brought into the room but doesn't say anything. Of course, he doesn't mention it, the one time he objected to my drinking habits, I just went on a month-long sabbath, munching popcorn while a few demons trash a few towns.

So I take my rosary, my exorcism book, and a bottle of water. Is that water holy? Eh, who gives a fuck, I never really needed to sprinkle it at all. Looking for Mammon isn't hard at all, he's a big, dumb, greedy brute tearing his way through food factories and stuffing his face with anything that fits into his gigantic mouths.

I telepathically whisper into his ears in the ancient language. Told him to play my game, then fuck off and crawl his fucking way back to Hell. His eyes widen once he sees it's me, and he gets the hint. Maybe not so dumb after all. He raises his arms and flails about while I read these lame-ass prayers from the book. Sprinkle a bit of water on his face, and he's ready to head home to Hell.

Easy-peasy. All in a day's work, just posing, prancing, and praying for a bit before I tell them to beat it and fuck off back home to Hell. I love how easy it is to rake in good money.

I guess I ain't the only one because there is this little demon kid shuddering in the corner, watching me at work.

"I want to be powerful like you too," the kid declared. "How you take a perfectly human shape and just send them packing like that."

"Just give it a few million years and you might just get there," I tell him plainly. "Stay alive long enough while building power."

"I can't build power if everyone keeps robbing me or laughing at how human and simple my name is. Teach me your ways, oh great and wise President Haagenti. I want to be a President and a member of the 72 demons of Ars Goetia just like you!"

Cute. I'll take this kid with me. His human form is very rough around the edges, but there's definitely some raw talent I can work with. After all, it does take a powerful demon to truly assume a convincing human form, so the kid is halfway there. Maybe we can form an exorcist duo, chewing bubble gum, drinking wine, and kicking the asses of other demons.

I swirl the "holy" water bottle, turn it into wine and offer it to the demon kid. Tell me your name, kiddo.

["I'm Amy. Soon-to-be-President Amy."](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amy_(demon)

Working at Maximum Self has always been fun. An app that lets you connect with and talk to other versions of yourself throughout the multiverse? How did nobody think of it sooner?

Well, actually, it was thought of infinite times by infinite people. The company was founded a few billion times - We all joined together to form a mega-company and shared the profits. There's a reason that the Multiversal Councils are trying to mandate how money is allowed to be shared between universes; Infinity means infinite money, which wraps around to no money. But it's hard for them to come to a decision when they have an uncountable amount of members voting for endless choices... You know what, let's stop the political talk. The parties always draw with infinite votes each anyway.

Last week, we got a new boss after the old one stepped down. It was another me. I wasn't surprised - All of my bosses have been me. It's a game of ego, really. Who is going to set their replacement as anyone other than themselves? This company has had a long, long line of Max's, since the very beginning. But this Max is different. This Max is an asshole.

He got us all to install software that clocks us in and out when we boot up and shut down our PC. This means that when the internet goes, so does our paycheck. 3 minutes offline? Say goodbye to that day's money. We'd take him to court if the legal system wasn't in shambles right now. Multiversal travel has been a blessing and a curse. From miracles that you can't imagine, to horrors you can't comprehend. Infinity means everything; The good and the bad.

I decided to use the app to my advantage. I came up with an incredible plan: Use the app to find another Max in the same situation, and steal their plan. I spent hours swiping through other versions of myself. Max after Max after Max. Somewhere out there, there just had to be another me who had dealt with another asshole-me. Eventually, I found it. B-73812. His name was Max (unsurprisingly), and he had dealt with a very similar situation. He had hired a photographer for his wedding who turned out to be himself. His photos were terrible yet he demanded payment. Our stories were different, yet shared a common goal: We both wanted to take revenge to the Max.

I asked him if he had a plan. I was delighted when he said he did.

"I have an incredible plan: Use the app to find another Max in the same situation..."

Loved this!!

I love this concept

Thank you! 😊

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This is good. I love this.

Very short young man.

Martial arts arena, where two different professional dojos face off. The contest is between strong grown men, but as two of the men from the young man's dojo dipped out, he has to fill in for one of them.

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A young adult man, scrappy but deathly serious, grew up in slums and now seeks to rule over the people around him for their own good (as he describes it), having experienced anarchy throughout his entire childhood.

He wear rags but has a noble air about him, is proficient with weapons but only carries blunt weapons on him. He has a short fuse, but only aggresses when he's been aggressed upon.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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I swear I've seen this exact prompt before....

👍

This prompt reminds me of Zone of the Enders 2167 Idolo which basically had this as the crux of the plot. It’s a short and fun watch at only an hour long.

Or Getter Robo which has both psychological and body horror as the machines merge with their pilots turning what started off as ostensibly a kid friendly robot show into a masterclass in horror and exploring the human condition.

Somehow felt like Malcom in the Middle with Hal and Iso. Hal being hal and malcom being Iso.

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He wears a graphic t and jeans. In winter he ads a jackets. He's always clean shaven and has a high vis jacket.

He grows poppies. He's leaning to make painkillers. His mum had a chronic pain problem and he's trying to replicate the drugs that will keep him painfree if he ever starts to exhibit the same problems.