Nyx: The Worst Hero is the Best Demon

Nyx the Demon Queen

Was I just asked by an over sized rottweiler to become Satan as I stand staring at the moldering corpse of a thorny giant? Maybe I had hit my head five or ten more times than I thought...

"Um." Was about all I could manage, swaying precariously where I stood.

"You will most likely die in the attempt." Stated the dog, not seemingly bothered by that at all. "But, it looks as if that is going to happen regardless, so you may as well try, correct?"

"Sure..." I said, not really positive how one was supposed to respond to such a request. "You aren't really a dog... are you?"

If a dog could cock an eyebrow and look at a woman like she was bonkers, than that was what this dog was doing right now. "No." He said, sounding mildly exasperated. "I am a demon race known as a hellhound. I am the progenitor of the race, in fact: Pride. It has long been my great honor to serve and accompany our great lord: Tristan, The Black King." The dog's- Pride's- eyes settled on the skeleton, looking both honored and a little sad.

"Your name is Pride?" I found myself asking, eyes fluttering and breaths coming in shallow gasps.

Pride looked at me like he wanted to comment on questioning his name, but decided against it. "I think you should get to the process rather than asking question. Should you live, I will answer what ever you like."

I didn't know if I wanted to become a demon king. Or Queen I supposed. But I definitely didn't want to die! And pride was correct: I had but a few scant minutes of life left in me, and no matter how crazy, Pride was offering me a chance to live. I wasn't about to pass up on that, even if it did mean I was signing my soul away to the devil. I was pretty sure I did that years ago anyway.

"And... what is the-" My eye lids felt heavy now, and I was worryingly cold. The dog was right, if this was going to help me live, I needed to do it now." "-The process?"

"You must consume the flesh of Tristan, who you see seated here before us."

Now, I knew I was half dead and probably prone to hallucinating... Hell, this all may be some elaborate dream and I was still laying flat and broken at the bottom of that damn hole. But, even as a product of my imagination (Depraved as it was) was this talking dog seriously telling my to eat demon mummy jerky right off the bone?

"You have to be shitting me..." I managed to blurt out, not even slurring it this time, even if my legs could barely hold me up.

Pride looked at me like I was the one who was crazy. Then I realized that the term 'shitting me' was probably foreign to a demon dog that live underground for untold centuries in a fantasy world.

"Three other people have attempted the change before you." Said Pride, seemingly deciding to ignore my last statement. "Obviously neither of them succeeded, and died quite painfully. But, if you do obtain Tristan's power, you will live. I suggest you not delay any longer." He eyed me up and down again. "Either way works for me. Either it works and we both get out of this place, or it doesn't and you die and I get a free meal."

Great. I can't say I hadn't been threatened to be made into dog food before, but this was the first time it felt like a real possibility.

My legs could hold me up no longer, and I fell to me knees. It probably should have hurt, but I was beyond that now. What it did do was bring my face horrifyingly close to the desiccated flesh of the mummies leg. I shivered at the thought of what I was about to do, because I was going to do it. I didn't want to die, and this was either my only chance, or an elaborate joke played by a talking dog claiming to be a demon. 

I never thought that someone seriously telling me to eat another person would be the most likely option. This world just keeps getting better and better.