Story The Adventures of Lord Gloom

[Kent]

Disclaimer: This text contains explicit language, including the use of curse words. Reader discretion is advised.

"Fuck! Stop hitting me! Fuck your mom! Fuck your sister! Fuck your dad! Fuck your grandma! Fuck your aunt! Fuck your ancestors! Ow! Ow! Stop!" A frustrated outburst erupted from an imp, weaving through a barrage of holy bolts from a congregation of priests. He was ensnared in a pentagram, encircled by robed figures shrouded in purity. It dawned on him that he'd been summoned. How this mortal rabble managed to summon a magnificent entity like him was a mystery.

"How dare you launch attacks on this Great Being! All of you will suffer punishment from Lord Gloom!" he roared.

An aura of darkness and menace erupted from his diminutive figure. The attack halted as the priests instinctively cowered... until a few moments of inaction led them to realize the lack of consequences. A courageous priest turned back to the sight of the imp hovering smugly in the center. Confusion washed over him before being replaced by realization. "IT'S A SCAM! ATTACK HIM!" he yelled, prompting the priests to renew their attack.

"Wait! Wait! Wait! The punishment is real! That was just a warning! Ow! Ow! Stop!" The barrage of holy bolts resumed, with the imp narrowly dodging, save for the occasional bolt that grazed him. To the priests' astonishment, the bolts left only minor burns on him, unlike a typical imp that would have disintegrated.

"See! I told you I am a great being!" The priests stared back in skepticism. The thought of his words being truthful crossed their minds, but the imp's antics seemed ludicrous. They dismissed him as a resilient imp with an absurd defense.

"Summon the Lord Celestial!" One of the priests commanded, prompting a robed figure to extract a scroll from his sleeve. He unfurled it, and the chamber was awash with holy radiance.

"Fuck, not those annoying celestials. They'll never leave me alone once they catch on to my scent again. They're fucking dogs!" The imp cursed, breaking into a cold sweat. He scanned the summoning circle, making discrete adjustments amidst dodging attacks, even deliberately tanking some bolts to allay suspicion.

Moments later, Lord Gloom bellowed with laughter, "HAHAHAHAHAHA, fuck you and your celestials. I'm out of here!"

The summoning circle began to glow, slower than the tear in the fabric of space that opened up. Beyond the rift, a celestial with two wings was about to step through, only to freeze as a six-winged celestial appeared before him.

"GLOOM!!!!" A thunderous voice boomed, causing the priests to crumble to the ground, bleeding. "I'VE FOUND YOU."

"FUCK. GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME GABRIEL. HOW ARE YOU SO FAST? ARE YOU STALKING ME?" Lord Gloom retorted, realizing that Gabriel might reach him before the circle could unsummon him. He reached for a small stick with seven branches, each tipped with a leaf - three of them already withered.

"FUCK YOU GABRIEL, YOU'RE MAKING ME USE MY PRECIOUS TREASURE!" Lord Gloom yelled. As a leaf shriveled up, the gap began to shrink, preventing Gabriel from stepping through.

"A BRANCH OF THE WORLD TREE. THAT'S THE ONE YOU STOLE FROM THE FAE!" Gabriel exclaimed in shock. But his surprise quickly gave way to resolve. He summoned a flaming sword and thrust it through the gap, shaking the realm as he tried to force his way in. "I MUST HAVE YOU, THIS IS MY DETERMINATION AS AN ANGEL. YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR CRIMES."

"AHHH!!! FUCK YOU AND YOUR MOM! YOU'RE FORCING MY HAND." Lord Gloom looked as if he was about to cry as the remaining leaves shriveled up one by one. As the last leaf turned to dust, the summoning circle flashed, ready to transport him.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, FUCK YOU GABRIEL. REMEMBER THIS DAY THAT YOU ALMOST CAUGHT THE GREAT LORD GLOOM!" As the chamber flashed with light, the imp was gone.

Gabriel looked at the empty space with a blank expression. He pulled out the sword, and the trembling stopped. With a wave of his hand, the tear closed, restoring peace to the realm.

 

[Kent]

Disclaimer: This text contains explicit language, including the use of curse words. Reader discretion is advised.

"Fuck! Are you retarded?" The imp, who had adopted the moniker 'Lord Gloom', bemoaned, his voice a mix of frustration and disdain. He was hitting a confused human repeatedly over the head with a rolled-up newspaper, his annoyance very obvious. They were in a dusty study, filled with ancient books, arcane relics, and the occasional wafting scent of long-past incantations.

The human in question, a boy barely in his late teens, was wincing and trying to shield his head with his arms. His eyes were locked onto the piece of parchment in front of him, his brows furrowed in concentration. But his focus seemed to be in vain.

"With this great self teaching you, how have you not learned the most basic of magic after 3 months?" Lord Gloom ranted, taking a step back to gesture widely at the study around them. It was filled with texts and artifacts that even some of the most esteemed scholars in the magical community would kill to examine. His hands trembled with pent-up annoyance as he emphasized the word 'basic'.

"Stupid, useless, talentless!" He tossed the newspaper onto the table, the pages rustling in protest. His diminutive figure was hunched over the table, an accusatory finger jabbed towards the boy. "How did this great one get bound to someone like you!" Lord Gloom wailed, his voice echoing through the room.

He circled the boy, his small wings flapping in annoyance. The corners of his mouth twitched downwards into a frown, his eyebrows knitted together. Gloom's eyes narrowed into thin slits as he critically inspected the boy. His mortal summoner, unfortunately, showed no talent for magic despite the countless hours they had spent together in this dusty old study.

The boy looked back, his face an open book of determination, frustration, and disappointment. His eyes flickered with a hint of stubbornness, and he resolutely picked up the discarded newspaper, smoothing it out to read the incantations written on it. His voice shook a bit as he began chanting the words, his spirit undeterred by Gloom's harsh criticism.

Gloom groaned, rubbing his temples in frustration. He paced back and forth behind the boy, his fingers drumming impatiently against his side. This was going to be a long, long day.

"The celestials might as well kill me now."

 

[Kent]

A brisk wind was whooshing through the crazy maze of the city streets, carrying with it a smell mix of roasted meats, fresh veggies, and the odd city stink. A guy named Elijah was doing his best to make his way through the city crowds. This city was his home since he was a little squirt, yet he felt like a stranger in it now.

His footsteps came to a halt when he heard a voice - that kinda annoying high-pitched tone, almost like a squeaky toy. He knew it anywhere. His heart started thudding as he followed the sound, leading him down an alley that was tucked away from the city’s main bustle.

And there, Elijah saw the imp - a real small figure with flapping wings and glowing red eyes. The imp was hovering next to a scruffy beggar, who was wrapped in a worn-out blanket and had a look of complete confusion on his face. The imp had a piece of paper in his hand, gesturing towards it while enthusiastically trying to convince the beggar.

“Yes! Yes! All your problems will soon be gone! Just sign your name here and you’ll have unlimited riches! The price? Pfft, it’s not much… just your sou- err… something you can’t even see! You shouldn’t dwell on that, just focus on what you’ll buy with mountains of gold!”

Elijah's eyebrows scrunched up as he watched the scene. He shook his head in disbelief. Lord Gloom, that damn imp, was up to no good again. He shook his head and started walking away. He was nearly out of earshot when the imp let out a final proclamation, "Soon you won’t be a beggar but the beggared! Is that even a word? Of course it is! It means people will be begging you instead!”

The beggar squinted at the imp, his eyebrows knitted together in suspicion. After a moment of thought, he let out a gravelly chuckle. "I might be poor, but I'm not stupid. Go shove your contract and riches up your ass." And with that, he tossed his worn-out cap at the imp, rose to his feet, and shuffled off down the alley, leaving Lord Gloom behind.

Lord Gloom was left floating there alone, the paper contract gently slipping from his hands. He drifted down to the cobblestones below, his wings drooping. His vibrant red eyes seemed to dull, and for a moment he looked particularly disappointed, even distraught.

Elijah emerged from the shadows, stepping forward to place a gentle hand on Gloom’s shoulder. He wore a sympathetic smile, but his eyes held a firm resolve. "Cheer up, Gloom. You can't win 'em all."

He let the silence hang for a moment before his face hardened into a stern expression. “But seriously, Gloom, you need to cut this crap. No more scamming people. It's not right."

Gloom didn't respond at first. He simply stared at the discarded contract on the ground, his brow furrowed. Then, with a deep sigh, he turned to face Elijah, his face reflecting an unusual mix of guilt and resignation. Maybe it was time to rethink his approach.

"Maybe I should start stealing offerings from the local church...." Lord Gloom muttered under his breath as he followed behind Elijah.