Magnus lounged on his half-broken throne, his golden eyes half-lidded with boredom. The dim torchlight flickered against the cracked walls, casting long shadows that stretched across the grand but crumbling throne room. The only sound was the steady swish of a broom scraping against the floor, a dull, rhythmic noise that did little to soothe his restlessness.
As he stared at the fractured ceiling, lost in a tangle of idle thoughts, an idea surfaced in his mind.
He lifted a single finger.
"Bob."
The sweeping stopped instantly. Bob, the ever-diligent demon servant, stiffened mid-motion. His small, twisted horns twitched as he clutched his broom with trembling hands, eyes darting toward Magnus with pure, unfiltered fear.
Still hunched over, he scrambled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet before skidding to a stop in front of the throne.
"Y-yes! My lord…?" he squeaked.
Magnus exhaled slowly, shifting in his seat. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he made his request.
"Go and get me some tea."
Bob's face twisted in confusion. He blinked rapidly, looking as if Magnus had just spoken an ancient, forbidden language.
"T-Tea…?" His voice cracked. "I-I apologize, my lord, but… I don't know what that means!"
Magnus's golden eyes flickered, a brief glint of disbelief passing through them. His fingers drummed idly against the armrest of his throne.
"You don't… know tea?" He spoke each word slowly, as if testing whether Bob had simply misheard him.
Bob frantically shook his head. "N-no, my lord! I swear upon my horns, I have never heard of such a thing!"
Magnus exhaled through his nose. "Alright. Listen carefully, Bob, because what I am about to say may very well change your miserable existence." He straightened slightly, his voice taking on a rare, almost regal tone.
"Tea," he began, "is the single most divine creation in the universe. It is warmth in a cup. A delicate blend of leaves, steeped in hot water, that produces a drink so refined, so soothing, that it makes you forget about life's many disappointments."
Bob stared at him, wide-eyed, as if Magnus had just described some mythical treasure.
"You… drink leaves, my lord?"
Magnus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Not just leaves, Bob. It's an art. The right leaves, the right temperature, the right brewing time—it's a sacred ritual of relaxation. A drink of kings. Of sages." He leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes narrowing. "And you're telling me that, in this entire demon realm, not a single wretched soul has thought of brewing leaves in hot water?"
Bob quickly shook his head. "N-no, my lord! We mostly drink… blood, firewater, or swamp brew."
Magnus slumped back against his throne with a defeated sigh. "This really is hell."
After a moment of brooding silence, he cracked open one eye. "Bob, tell me something. What realms exist outside of this one?"
Bob blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "Uh… Well, my lord, there are several realms. There is the Human Realm, where mortals live. The Elf Realm, where those pointy-eared forest folk reside. The Beastkin Realm, full of those… animal-people. The Celestial Realm, home of the winged tyrants. And, of course, the Demon Realm, where we reside."
Magnus tapped his chin. "And do any of these realms happen to have tea?"
Bob hesitated, rubbing the back of his head. "Um… I-I wouldn't know for sure, my lord, but if I had to guess… maybe the Human Realm? They have all sorts of strange customs. Cooking food, farming, wearing socks—"
Magnus held up a hand, his golden eyes sharpening. "Wait. What do you mean 'cooking food'? You're telling me demons don't cook?"
Bob shrank slightly. "Well… not in the way you're thinking, my lord. We mostly just… roast things over hellfire. Or eat them raw."
Magnus pressed his fingers against his temple. "So let me get this straight. No tea. No proper cooking. And you're telling me that drinking something called swamp brew—which, by the way, sounds like a health hazard—is normal?"
Bob nodded quickly. "Y-yes, my lord! It's very nutritious. Gives you extra limbs sometimes!"
Magnus groaned. "…I should've stayed in bed today." He waved a hand dismissively. "Fine. Forget it. What about the other realms? The elves—do they have tea?"
Bob scratched his chin, his tail twitching. "I… think so? They like plants and stuff, so they probably brew something leafy. But they're really secretive. They don't let demons anywhere near their lands."
Magnus muttered under his breath. "Of course they don't." He shifted his attention back to Bob. "And what about the Celestial Realm? Do those winged tyrants drink tea?"
Bob's face scrunched up in disgust. "Ugh. Maybe. Those self-righteous pigeons think they're better than everyone, so I wouldn't be surprised if they had some holy golden tea that makes you float or something."
Magnus snorted. "That actually sounds like something they'd do." He leaned back against his throne, deep in thought. "So, if I want tea… my best bet is either the Human Realm or the Elf Realm."
Bob hesitated before nodding. "Y-yes, my lord… but, uh… those realms are kinda hard to get to."
Magnus smirked lazily. "Bob. I'm the Demon King. Getting there isn't the problem." He stretched his arms behind his head. "The real problem is… should I even bother?"
Bob gulped. "W-Well, my lord, it is just a drink…"
Magnus shot him a sharp look. "It's not just a drink, Bob. It's the key to my peace of mind. And considering how this realm is run by idiots who drink swamp sludge, I might have to bother."
Bob swallowed hard, realizing there was no talking his master out of this.
Magnus closed his eyes, his smirk widening. "Alright then… Looks like I'll be taking a little trip."
"Wait no..." Magnus cracked one golden eye open, smirking.
"Bob."
Bob flinched. "Y-yes, my lord?"
"I have decided," Magnus declared, stretching his arms lazily. "If I can't get tea here, then I'll bring the tea to me."
Bob blinked in confusion. "Uh… my lord?"
Magnus lazily pointed a finger at him. "You. Go to the Elf Realm. Find one of those nature-obsessed pointy-ears… and bring them back here."
Bob's jaw nearly hit the floor. "W-WHAT?! My lord, with all due respect, do you know what elves do to demons who step into their forests?! They shoot first and don't even ask questions later! They have arrows that explode! They can talk to trees! TREES, my lord!"
Magnus yawned. "And?"
"And—!" Bob threw his hands up in the air, his tail flicking in panic. "And I'll die!"
Magnus rested his cheek against his palm, his golden eyes glowing with mild amusement. "Bob. You're thinking too much."
"I'm thinking because I don't want to die!"
Magnus sighed dramatically. "Fine. Let me make this easy for you." He lifted a finger
"One: You're not allowed to die. If you do, I'll be very annoyed."
Bob gulped. "Th-That's… not how dying works, my lord."
"Two: You don't need to fight. Just… grab a little elf that looks like they know how to make tea and bring them here. It's a simple fetch quest."
Bob's eye twitched. "F-FETCH QUEST?! My lord, this isn't some game!"
Magnus ignored him. "Three: If you fail…" He opened his eyes fully, his golden irises gleaming like molten gold. "I'll be very disappointed."
Bob froze. That was worse than death.
Bob let out a shaky breath, his tail curling anxiously behind him. His eyes darted around the throne room as if searching for an escape route that didn't exist.
He straightened his back, gathering whatever scraps of courage he had left. "M-My lord, I must object! This is madness! I'm not a warrior! I'm a janitor! I clean floors, not kidnap elves!"
Magnus tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Mm. Good point."
Bob exhaled in relief. "So you understand—"
"—You're also disposable."
Bob choked on air.
Magnus flashed a lazy grin. "Come on, Bob, don't make that face. I'm not sending you to war. I'm sending you on an errand. Think of it as… expanding your skill set. You're always whining about how demons don't get career growth opportunities. Consider this a promotion."
Bob shook his head frantically. "Th-this isn't a promotion, my lord! This is a death sentence!"
Magnus rolled his wrist dismissively. "Then don't die."
Bob opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "That's… not how that works!"
Magnus waved a hand, already bored of the conversation. "Bob, listen. The Elf Realm isn't that far. Sneak in, find an elf who looks like they know what tea is, and bring them back. Simple."
"Sneak in?" Bob's voice cracked. "You think I can just sneak into the most heavily protected forests in existence?!"
Magnus arched a brow. "Are you not a demon? You guys love sneaky stuff."
Bob groaned, pressing his fingers against his forehead. "That's imps, my lord. I'm not an imp. I have dignity."
Magnus smirked. "You're also the only one available."
Bob groaned again, dragging his hands down his face. He knew arguing was useless.
"Fine…" He let out a long, suffering sigh. "I'll go. But if I come back as an elf kebab, I'm haunting you."
Magnus gave him a lazy thumbs-up. "Duly noted. Now, off you go, Bob. Bring me my tea-maker."
Bob hung his head in despair before trudging out of the throne room, muttering a stream of curses under his breath.
Magnus watched him go, then yawned and stretched.
"Ah… I love delegating."
Bob trudged through the desolate wastelands of the Demon Realm, his shoulders hunched and his tail dragging limply behind him. The cracked, molten ground hissed under his feet, and the distant howls of lesser demons echoed in the smog-filled air. He was on a mission. A mission that, in his expert opinion, was absolute lunacy.
The Elf Realm.
The very name sent a shudder down his spine.
Bob was not a warrior. He was not a rogue, a scout, or anything remotely suited for infiltrating a land of bow-wielding, tree-whispering, magic-infused murderers. He was a janitor. He scrubbed floors, dusted Magnus's ridiculous excuse for a throne, and occasionally unclogged lava drains. His most dangerous encounters involved stubborn grime, not elves with arrows that could probably turn him into a pincushion from a mile away.
And yet, here he was, marching toward certain doom, all because the Demon King had decided he needed tea.
Bob let out a long, suffering sigh. "Why me?"
The answer, of course, was obvious.
There was no one else around.
The other demons had either fled the throne room the moment Magnus got that look in his eyes, or they were conveniently busy when Bob tried to beg, bribe, or threaten them into taking his place. Cowards, the lot of them.
Still, it wasn't like he could run. Magnus had given a direct order, and disobeying wasn't an option. Not because Magnus would punish him—no, that would be too much effort for the so-called King of Sloth. But the sheer disappointment in his golden eyes… Bob shuddered. That was worse than torture.
The wasteland soon gave way to a jagged ravine, its depths filled with swirling mist. Bob stopped at the edge, staring at the massive stone archway standing at its center. Ancient carvings glowed faintly along its surface, pulsing with magic. This was the portal gate, one of the few stable rifts between realms.
Bob gulped. He had never used it before.
With a deep breath, he stepped forward, raising a trembling clawed hand toward the runes. The air crackled as the portal responded to his touch, and before he could rethink his life choices, the world twisted around him—
—And then he was standing in a completely different place.
Lush. Green. Vibrant.
The Elf Realm.
Bob staggered forward, blinking at the sheer contrast. The sky here was a soft shade of blue, untainted by smoke or ash. Towering trees stretched impossibly high, their leaves glimmering with an unnatural, almost magical light. The ground was soft, covered in grass instead of cracked stone. Flowers bloomed in spirals along twisted roots, and faint golden motes of light drifted lazily through the air.
Bob clenched his fists. Alright. No panicking. Just find an elf, grab them, and get out. Simple. Easy. Not certain death at all.
A twig snapped somewhere in the distance.
Bob froze. His ears twitched.
He was not alone.
Bob didn't dare move. His breathing was shallow, his muscles tense, and his tail stiff as a board.
That was a twig snapping. That means something is nearby. That something could be an elf. And if it's an elf…
His mind supplied several horrifying images of himself riddled with arrows, turning into a magical tree against his will, or worse—being politely asked to leave.
A soft rustling in the underbrush made his stomach drop. Slowly, carefully, he turned his head.
Through the thick foliage, he could see a figure.
Slender. Graceful. Moving without a sound, save for the occasional brush of leaves. The telltale pointy ears peeked through strands of silver hair, confirming his worst fears.
An elf.
Bob swallowed hard. He had found his target… but now came the difficult part.
How do I kidnap an elf without dying in the process?
He took a slow step back, his mind racing through the very limited training he had as a demon servant. Demons usually relied on brute force and intimidation, neither of which were options for someone like Bob. If he tried to rush the elf, he'd probably be taken down in seconds.
No, he needed a different approach.
Stealth? No. I have hooves.
Diplomacy? No. I have horns.
Bribery? What do elves even want? Leaves?
His claws twitched. He needed a plan—fast.
The elf moved closer, their back turned to him as they knelt near a cluster of glowing flowers. They seemed focused, completely unaware of the demon lurking behind them.
Bob sucked in a deep breath.
He would only get one shot at this.
Option 1: The Classic Snatch-and-Run.
Charge in, grab the elf, and sprint back to the portal. High risk. Very high risk. Likely to fail.
Option 2: The Distraction.
Throw something in the opposite direction, make the elf look away, and then… what? Still grab them? Maybe sneak up and politely ask them to be kidnapped?
Option 3: The Bold Approach.
Walk up, introduce himself, and somehow convince the elf to come willingly. (Laughable. But maybe worth a try?)
Bob exhaled. Alright. No more thinking. Just do it.
He took a single step forward—
And immediately stepped on another twig.
CRACK.
The elf stiffened.
Bob froze.
There was a long, horrible silence.
Then, with terrifying grace, the elf turned their head slightly and said, "Who's there?"
Bob's mind blanked.
This was it. The moment of truth.
He could feel the weight of fate pressing down on him. Every choice he had ever made, every decision, had led to this one moment.
So, naturally, he said the first thing that popped into his panicked mind.
"Uh… I'm a tree."
For a second, nothing happened. The elf just stared at the bush where Bob was hiding, their delicate eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"…A tree?"
Bob nodded furiously. Not that they could see him, but the sheer commitment behind the nod had to count for something.
"Y-yeah," he stammered, forcing his voice to sound deeper, more… tree-like? "Just a normal tree. Doing tree things. Photosynthesizing. You know how it is."
The elf's frown deepened. They stood up slowly, brushing dirt off their robes. "Trees don't talk."
Bob swallowed. "This one does."
The elf crossed their arms. "…Why?"
Bob's tail stiffened. This was spiraling out of control. He needed an excuse—any excuse.
"Uh… Evolution?" he tried. "Yeah. I, uh, drank some magic water and now I can talk. It's… a rare condition. Don't discriminate."
The elf took a step closer, suspicious but intrigued. "A rare condition, huh?"
Bob internally screamed. He needed to escape this conversation before the elf got too close and realized he was, in fact, not a tree but a very bad liar with horns.
"Y-yeah," he said quickly. "Super rare. Anyway, uh, you should probably go. I, uh, need to… meditate. Tree meditation. Very important. Helps with my bark growth."
The elf was not buying it.
"I don't think you're a tree."
Bob gulped. His hooves were sinking slightly into the forest floor. His body was tense, heart pounding, brain working at maximum capacity—
And then, without thinking, he did the worst possible thing.
He lunged out of the bush.
"GOTCHA—"
Before he could even get close, the elf reacted with terrifying speed. A swift motion, a flicker of silver, and then—
Pain.
Blinding, horrible, immediate pain.
Bob let out a shriek as he tumbled backward, clutching his forehead. He hit the ground hard, groaning, his vision spinning.
The elf, now holding a sleek, curved dagger, glared down at him.
"A demon," they muttered, their expression unreadable. "Figures."
Bob whimpered. His horns were burning. He cracked open one eye, seeing the elf looming over him. They had only grazed him—just a shallow cut along his forehead. But elf-forged weapons were no joke. Even a scratch hurt.
"I—ow—hold on—wait—" He lifted his hands in surrender, his tail twitching wildly. "Let's just—ow—talk about this."
The elf didn't lower their blade. "Talk?" they repeated. "You just tried to attack me."
"Technically, I tried to kidnap you," Bob corrected. "Big difference!"
The elf narrowed their eyes. "…Oh. Well, in that case—"
Bob immediately regretted speaking.
The elf grabbed his collar, yanked him up, and slammed him back against a tree. His hooves dangled off the ground.
Bob wheezed. "—I'm very sorry about this!"
The elf tilted their head. "Why are you here, demon?"
Bob swallowed hard. "Uh… well… funny story. You see, my boss—uh, the Demon King—he kinda really wants tea."
A long pause.
"…Tea?"
"Y-yeah. And, uh, apparently, you elves make really good tea, so… he sent me to, uh, borrow you."
Another pause.
The elf just stared at him. Their grip loosened slightly. Their expression went from deadly to something closer to pure disbelief.
"You mean to tell me…" they said slowly, "that the Demon King sent you… to kidnap me… because he wants tea?"
Bob nodded hesitantly.
A silence stretched between them.
Then, to Bob's utter confusion, the elf exhaled sharply—almost like they were holding back a laugh.
Bob blinked. "Uh…"
The elf sighed, shaking their head, and muttered under their breath, "Demons are insane."
Bob, still pinned to the tree, nodded along. "I don't disagree."
The elf let out a tired sigh, finally loosening her grip on Bob's collar. He collapsed onto the ground, rubbing his aching neck.
"Agh… so violent…" he mumbled under his breath.
The elf sheathed her dagger but kept her eyes locked onto him. Now that he wasn't actively getting stabbed, Bob could actually take a good look at her.
She had sharp, angular features, piercing green eyes, and long silver hair tied back in a loose braid. Her robes were a mix of deep green and brown, blending seamlessly with the forest around her. If she hadn't spoken, Bob would never have noticed her before it was too late.
Not that he had noticed her before it was too late.
She crossed her arms. "So let me get this straight… The Demon King sent you here, into our sacred forest, just so you could drag an elf back to him… to make tea?"
Bob sat up, ears drooping. "Y-yeah. Pretty much."
The elf stared at him.
Bob offered a weak smile.
The elf slowly exhaled through her nose. "You do realize how insane that sounds, right?"
Bob nodded quickly. "Oh, absolutely. I've been saying that since the moment he told me to do this. But, you see…" He gulped, fidgeting with his tail. "If I don't bring you back, I'm as good as dead. And, uh… I'm really, really not in the mood to die today."
She tilted her head slightly, as if weighing her options.
Finally, she muttered, "Unbelievable."
Bob perked up. "So… does that mean you'll come with me willingly?"
The elf gave him a flat stare. "Absolutely not."
Bob deflated. "Yeah, figured."
She stepped back, turning on her heel. "Leave, demon. Before I actually put an arrow through your skull."
Bob scrambled to his feet, waving his hands. "Wait, wait, wait! Just hear me out!"
The elf ignored him and started walking away.
Bob panicked. "H-Hold on! The Demon King—he's really strong, y'know! He could just waltz in here himself if he wanted! He could burn this whole place down!"
The elf stopped.
Bob gulped. "B-but he won't if you just… you know… come with me? Just for a little while?"
The elf turned her head slightly, her green eyes locking onto his. "Are you threatening me?"
Bob froze.
His life flashed before his eyes.
"N-No! No, no, no, nonononono!" He waved his arms frantically. "That wasn't a threat! That was just… uh… context! Yes! Context! Just so you know what kind of person we're dealing with!"
The elf stared at him for an agonizingly long moment.
Then she sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What is wrong with demons…"
Bob shifted awkwardly. "A lot. A lot. You have no idea."
Another silence.
Then, surprisingly, the elf turned fully toward him.
"Fine."
Bob blinked. "Huh?"
She crossed her arms, looking at him with a mixture of exhaustion and amusement. "I'll go with you. But not because I'm scared of your Demon King." She raised an eyebrow. "I just… want to see what kind of idiot would go to such lengths over tea."
Bob's mouth fell open. "Seriously?"
The elf rolled her eyes. "Yes, seriously. But if I decide I don't like him, I'm leaving. And if this is some kind of trap, I will kill you."
Bob nodded so fast his horns nearly flew off. "Yes! Got it! Completely understandable!"
The elf sighed. "Alright then, demon. Lead the way."
Bob took a deep breath, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
Magnus is gonna be so proud.