Filler Episode - How to Make a Demon Lord

The air around him crackled with energy. Bright yellow streaks shrank down, forming a cocoon of light. Mason watched as the world beyond washed away. A moment later it was replace with an immaculate room. The floors and walls were made of white marble. Golden threads twisted and twirled in a pattern that stretched the entirety of the room. As the light faded, he realized that he was not alone. There were at least another twenty people standing around, all with a look of confusion and awe. Probably just like him. Just beyond the small crowd he was able to pick out another group of people. They stood in a circle, completely surrounding Mason and the others. These people were tall.

No. They stood on a raised platform that blended in with the floor. Sneaky. A subtle way to show they were better than us. Interesting start to a conversation.

"Welcome," a thundering base echoed through the chamber.

The circle of robed figures parted as a hunched older man stepped up. His limbs were thin and spindly. The exposed skin looked as though a stiff wind would cause it to flake away.

"Welcome champions," he continued. "You have been summoned to save our world. Strife, stagnation, and building conflict desperately need your attention. Through your actions, our world will be shaped. The gifts of the gods will be bestowed upon you."

The old man walked through the crowd until he was in the center of the group. Mason looked at where the old man had stopped. The gold threads converged, meeting in a swirling nest. A crystal orb emerged from the space, floating up to rest before the old man.

They certainly had put some thought into presentation. It made him wonder how many times this had happened before. Things were moving too smoothly for it to be the first.

"Touch the orb to receive your gifts," the old man said. "Claim your destiny as champions."

Mason looked around at the other people nearby. They didn't look like anything special, more akin to a group waiting in line at the supermarket than heroes. The one noticeable constant was that there weren't any children, or elderly. A couple had some gray hair while others looked like they weren't old enough to drink, but no kids or old people.

Closest to him were a couple of women and a younger guy. Mason locked eyes with one of the women. They were deep brown, just a shade lighter than her skin. She was a bit taller than him, probably putting her around six feet, and dressed in business casual. Her shoulder length black hair was perfectly aligned styled to fit her look. Mason desperately wanted to ask her name. Maybe she wanted to grab a cup of coffee or dinner. Unfortunately, this didn't seem like the right time.

The room flashed bright blue. Mason looked back to see that the young man nearby had touched the crystal orb. Wisps of blue energy swirled around the young mans outstretched arm.

"You have been gifted with air magic," the old man said. "You will learn to ride the currents through the skies and call the wind to your aid. Welcome champion," the old man bowed. "Please, step through the door."

Mason scanned the room again, looking through the doors. It wasn't until his gaze rested back at the crystal orb that he noticed a glowing door had materialized beside the old man. The young man stepped through without question. More people stepped forward, touching the orb and disappearing through the door.

The process let him know there were various sources of magic: light, darkness, air, earth, aether, fire, and celestial. Each one prompted the old man to give little hint at what they could expect. It seemed that each source had an opposite, aside from celestial.

Mason, the woman, and a couple of others had yet to touch the orb. The old man looked expectantly at them.

"Wish me luck," Mason said.

He smiled at the woman. Maybe they would have the same magical source and be able to get to know each other. Mason took a breath and touched the orb. The sparkly sheen on the crystal shifted to iridescent. A dot of darkness formed in the center of the orb and grew until it filled it. Swirls of black ash drifted along an unseen current. It touched his hand, sending a burning pain racing up his arm.

Mason screamed and pulled his hand away. The ash followed after, draining from the orb. It crawled up his arm, scorching the skin as it went. There were no words, only pain and heat. He was vaguely aware that his clothes burned away as the ash made contact.

Desperately, he tried to slap the spreading heat away with his other hand. Instead, it latched on to the untouched skin and began to spread faster. The heat was racing toward the base of his neck. An all-encompassing dread filled him as he felt it begin to reach higher.

His scream died away. Mason took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If this was his end, he was going to look death in the eyes as it took him. The burning consumed him. Every inch of his skin was scorched before the fire worked its way inside of him.

Mason wasn't sure how long it had been. How long he had been burning, but now he wasn't. The heat was a comfortable warmth that radiated from inside of him. Mason opened his eyes. His burned and blackened skin fell away to reveal a sheen of deep crimson. Smaller details began to stand out to him, his hands were covered in some sort of natural armor, almost like a exoskeleton that ended in sharp dagger-like claws. He could feel the air on his scalp. It made sense his hair would have burned away as well. The exoskeleton on his hands shifted, sliding away into his skin. He ran a hand along his face, feeling a set of horns on his forehead. They didn't seem all that big, maybe a few inches. When he opened his mouth the speak, something felt different. He ran a tongue along his teeth finding a mouthful of sharp fangs. Luckily, he didn't feel like he had a tail or hooves.

He looked up at the old man. The spindly little man stared back in abject terror.

"Infernal," the old man whispered.

Mason tilted his head to the side. It made sense. Light was the opposite of darkness, same as earth was to air. If there was a Celestial, then its counterpoint would be Infernal.

"Guards," the old man yelled. "Guards. Detain this creature."

Mason stood straight, finding himself a few inches taller now.

"What?" He asked, noticing that his voice had changed, it had a harsh edge that finished in a growl. "You brought me here. How is this my fault?"

The far wall split, revealing a large set of doors that stretched from floor to ceiling. A dozen or more guards rushed forward. Each wore armor, complete with a helmet that covered their faces. They leveled spears at Mason as the spread out to surround him. Mason looked back over to the woman. She stared back to him. It didn't look like he was going to ask her name.

"Make a move, creature," one of the guards said. "Give me a reason to paint the floor with your cursed blood."