The Demon King's Guide To Not Getting Defeated By A Paladin-Chapter 54 - 53:The Price of a Wish

Morning broke gently over the rooftops, the sun peeling back the lingering darkness in shimmering gold. The streets of the quarter were already awake, noisy with chatter and the steady clatter of cart wheels. Vendors hawked their wares from ramshackle stalls, the smell of baked bread and roasting beans curling through the air. Children darted between the feet of strangers. Above it all, the hum of the city life grew louder with each passing moment, as though the day itself demanded to be heard.

At the edge of the marketplace, a man stumbled back out of his doorway, dragging a pair of wooden crates behind him. His face was still red from the shouting match inside the house, and his wife’s shrill voice could still be heard through the half-open window.

"Ungrateful woman," he grunted to himself, dragging the crates one hand at a time down the dusty street. "Slaves all day to keep bread on the table and she tells me I’m lazy? Lazy, ha!" He stopped to catch his breath, wiping sweat from his brow. "Wouldn’t know hard work if it kicked her in the—"

The rest of his muttering dissolved into little more than growls and curses as he heaved the crates past an alley mouth.

But then... he stopped. Something pricked the back of his neck... a strange, humming tingle in the air. He turned his head, narrowing his eyes at the narrow, shadowy alley. At first, nothing seemed out of place ... just a stack of barrels and some damp stones. But then... there it was.

At the far end of the alley, something shimmered. Silver light, faint but sharp against the gloom, with small tendrils of purplish sparks arcing silently through the air around it.

The man blinked, forgetting his crates entirely. He leaned a little closer, squinting, heart beating faster.

"The hell’s that...?" he whispered, curiosity burning stronger than his good sense.

Step by step, he moved into the alley, the light growing clearer, stranger. It almost seemed to... breathe.

And then he saw it.

A golden lamp sat there, half-buried under the clutter at the end of the alley. Its surface glimmered as though freshly polished, casting faint, molten reflections of the strange light around it.

The man set his crates down carefully and crept forward, eyes wide. He crouched, fingers trembling slightly, and wrapped one hand around the cold, impossibly smooth metal.

"Feels... real enough," he muttered.

On some wild impulse, he rubbed his thumb along the side of it. For a moment, nothing happened. Then there was smoke.

Thin, dark smoke began curling from the lamp’s spout, spiraling up into the air. It gathered into a cloud, growing denser, then thicker still, until it coalesced into a vaguely human shape. The man stumbled back and fell onto the stones, eyes round with terror.

"What the hell?! W-what the hell is that?!"

The smoke swirled once, twice and then it spoke.

"Don’t be afraid..."

The man’s breath came in fast, shallow gulps. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of the thing. His heart pounded against his ribs, loud and erratic.

"W-what are you...?" he managed to croak.

The smoke cleared at last, and what stood before him made his stomach drop.

It was kneeling, pale-skinned, with long limbs folded gracefully beneath it. Thin, gossamer wings sprouted from its back..... torn in places, like brittle paper. Its face was that of a woman... but wrong somehow, her eyes just a little too black, her smile just a little too wide. A faint chill settled over the alley as she tilted her head and spoke again, her voice soft and sweet. "Ask me any wish... and it shall be given unto you."

The man could not stop staring, his mouth went dry and his hands felt clammy.

Any wish...

His tongue worked soundlessly for a moment before he finally managed to mumble, his voice almost embarrassed: "...I... I wish she’d stop nagging me... just for one blessed day..."

The creature’s grin widened, sharp teeth glinting faintly in the silver light.

"Done," she whispered. She raised one spindly hand and snapped her fingers. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

The sound rang louder than it should have, echoing through the narrow alley. Then she straightened, her wings twitching slightly as she leaned toward him, her smile never faltering.

"But," she added, almost playfully. "Every wish has a price."

The man scrambled backwards on his elbows, staring at her.

"W-what do you mean?" he asked, his voice shaking now

"Every wish has a price? What do you mean?!"

But she only laughed low and cruel, and took a step closer.

*

The afternoon sunlight bled lazily through the tall windows of the Heavenward Academy guild hall, dust motes hanging like tiny stars in the air.

Quinn lay draped across one of the long oak tables, his chin pressed to the cool surface. His black jacket was bunched under his chest, and he idly flipped a coin with one hand. Over and over, the little disc of silver rose and fell, spinning once before clattering back into his palm.

Heads.

Tails.

Heads again.

He didn’t even look at it anymore.

Across from him, Azra sat stiffly, arms folded, his glasses sliding down his nose. The faint, impatient growl in his throat was nearly constant.

"You could at least pretend to care, you know," Azra muttered, pushing his glasses back up with one sharp motion. His crimson scarf fluttered slightly as he leaned forward. "We need to start learning more sophisticated magic if we’re going to keep up with the higher-ranked guilds. We can’t just... sit here every day."

Quinn flipped the coin again.

"I am keeping up," he drawled, voice flat.

"You’re insufferable," Azra growled louder, slamming a book shut.

But before Quinn could offer another lazy retort, the heavy guild doors creaked open. A breeze swept in, scattering some loose parchment on the floor. The two boys turned their heads in unison just in time to stare at the new guest.

She walked in.

A woman, fair-skinned, plump, her cheeks rosy and her hair tucked under a thin veil.... strode into the hall carrying a large wooden box under her arm. Her robes shimmered faintly, lined with delicate embroidery, and a pair of golden rings glinted on her fingers. Quinn lifted his head a little, more out of habit than genuine interest.

The woman looked a little familiar, and he wasn’t sure if what he was painting in his mind was proper or not.

She didn’t so much as glance at anyone as she crossed the hall, stopping in front of the enormous pin board. She set the box down at her feet, stretched her fingers... then snapped.

A sudden rush of magic swept through the room... warm and charged, making the hair on Quinn’s arms prickle. The stack of fliers in her box lifted themselves into the air, shuffling and straightening mid-flight, before pinning themselves one by one to the boards with sharp, metallic clicks.

Azra actually gaped. "Whoa! These... these are new missions!"

The woman gave the board a satisfied nod, dusted off her hands, and turned to leave, her robes swishing at her ankles.

Quinn sighed, tossing his coin once more before catching it and letting it rest in his palm. "What’s all this now?" he muttered.

"You’re joking, right?!" Azra shot to his feet, already moving toward the board. "New missions! And these look fresh, not like the bottom-of-the-barrel scraps we’ve been stuck with lately."

Quinn groaned, finally pushing himself up. The table creaked under his weight as he stood, stretching his arms overhead. He shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered toward the pinboard with a lazy gait. But as soon as he got close, his eyes swept over the papers... and narrowed.

Most of the posters were, as usual, unimpressive.

Request: Mice infestation in storeroom.

Reward: half-loaf of bread and two silver.

Request: Help needed moving barrels to docks.

Reward: three copper.

Request: Sick child needs healing salve delivered.

Reward: one silver.

Quinn almost rolled his eyes. There’s no way he was taking something like this. But then his gaze caught on a certain flyer at the bottom of the board. Unlike the others, this one was written hastily, on rough paper, with streaks of what looked like soot or even dried blood smudging the corners.

> REQUEST: Monster sighted in the slums, multiple deaths. Requesting immediate aid.

Reward: negotiable. Contact at Rust Alley tavern.

Quinn stopped cold.

His fingers hovered over the paper before plucking it loose from the board. He stared at it for a long moment, feeling something sharp....something he hadn’t felt all day...a flicker in his chest.

Behind him, Azra leaned over his shoulder. "Monster? In the slums?" he murmured. His tone was equal parts awe and concern. "Now that’s a real job."

Quinn said nothing. He just stared at the rough letters, his coin still clutched tightly in his other hand. Maybe a little fighting could help him increase his interest.