Chapter 6 The Demon King Grimble
979 Words
"So the great betrayer finally remembers?" The wooden puppet rasped, its voice coming from god-knows-where in its faceless head.
"Gah!" Alistair nearly leapt out of his skin, barely smothering a scream before Grandpa Starveil could come running. His palm slapped over his mouth with enough force to bruise.
When met with silence, the puppet thundered, "Cody! Release me this instant! We'll finish what we started!"
That name—why did it make his chest tighten? Alistair turned the thing over. "You're... calling me Cody?"
"Who else would I mean, you dolt?" The puppet's entire wooden frame vibrated with rage.
In a panic, Alistair yanked the cursed thing from his shoulders like a rabid squirrel, desperate to silence it before Grandpa Starveil saw this nightmare and dropped dead on the spot. But how do you gag something without a mouth? He flipped it wildly between his hands like a hot griddlecake.
"I yield! By the abyss, just stop spinning me!" The puppet's protests dissolved into nauseated groans as it surrendered unconditionally.
"Shut your trap before someone hears!" Alistair hissed through clenched teeth. Miraculously, the wooden menace obeyed.
He dropped it unceremoniously onto the mattress, then pressed against the doorframe, straining to hear over his pounding heartbeat. When no footsteps came, his shoulders sagged with relief.
"Who are you?" he asked warily, the question catching in his throat. "And why call me Cody?" The puppet remained frozen in stubborn silence, as lifeless as when he first found it.
"Huh? Speechless now? Maybe I should give you a good shake—might jumpstart your voice," Alistair mused aloud, feigning indifference.
"No! Stop! I yield! Didn’t you just order me to be quiet?" The puppet scrambled to respond, its wooden frame rattling. "What kind of fool asks who I am after reducing me to this pitiful effigy? And your name’s Cody—what else would I call you? Are you mad?"
"What do you mean? How is this my doing?" Alistair frowned, bewildered.
"Oh? So your memories are gone?" The puppet’s voice dripped with venomous glee. "Hah! How the mighty have crumbled! Poetic justice! Serves you right!"
The cackling grated on Alistair’s nerves. "Keep howling like that, and I’ll dangle you by your feet from the window," he warned, fingers twitching toward the puppet.
Silence fell instantly—the threat had teeth.
"Enough. Let’s take this one question at a time." Despite the chaos, Alistair forced calm into his voice. "First: who are you?"
"I?" The puppet drew itself up as much as its rigid form allowed. "I am Constantine, Sovereign of the Abyss! The Demon King who shook Myrkvalen to its—Ack! Nooo!" Mid-boast, it convulsed as if seared by divine flames.
"What’s wrong with you—another trick?" Alistair lunged to grab it.
"Wait! It’s no act!" the so-called Demon King gasped. "This is your doing! When you bound me to this accursed marionette, you wove a curse into the seal—tore my true name from me!"
"You can... rob someone of their name?" Alistair froze, breath catching.
"Names hold power—losing yours is a fate worse than death!" Grimble snapped, sounding like he was explaining the obvious to a child.
"Then what should I call you now?" Alistair pressed.
"Well... you did give me another name, but..." The puppet's wooden body stiffened with hesitation.
"But what? Out with it."
"You... named me... Grimble." The words came out choked with shame. Alistair immediately burst into laughter.
"HAHAHA! Seriously? What in the world did I have against you?"
"Damn it, stop laughing! If I could move, I'd take you down with me right now!" Grimble roared, his voice trembling with rage.
"Alright, alright, Grimble—" Alistair waved dismissively, still chuckling. "Since I don't remember any of it, let's call it even."
"You bastard! Think this is funny?" Grimble seethed before forcing himself to calm down. "Whatever. What's going on? This place feels downright ordinary—definitely not our world. And why are you just a spirit now?"
"A spirit?"
Grimble sighed at Alistair's blank stare. "You really are clueless, huh? Fine." He slipped into lecture mode. "A being's strength has three parts. First, the body—your muscles, your stamina, everything that makes you punch harder than the next guy. We measure that across ten tiers."
"Now, soul strength—that's not hard to grasp. It's your mental power, shaped by knowledge, willpower, and magic power. Like physical strength, it's ranked across ten tiers. Reach the fifth tier, and your soul can temporarily leave your body as a spirit form."
"Wait," Alistair interrupted. "Magic power? You mean... like casting spells?"
"Good grief, you're not just amnesiac—your brain's completely scrambled," the puppet groaned. "Magic might not be common, but it's basic knowledge! How'd you forget that?"
Alistair pieced together the revelations. Constantine had admitted he wasn't from this world. His very existence defied reality's rules. Was he truly from another realm?
Even stranger—this Demon King seemed to know him. Had Alistair once been to that world too?
The thought lingered, but accepting it felt impossible.
Curious, he asked, "Where did we meet?"
The puppet fell silent. "...You really remember nothing?"
At Alistair's nod, it continued, "So you're from this world originally?"
"I guess so," Alistair said. "After an accident here, I was in a coma for ten years. When I woke up, I only had memories from this world—and even those were patchy at best."
"So the legend is true?" Constantine's voice suddenly turned grave. "For generations, the Demon Kings have passed down a tale—when a Demon King's power grows too strong for Artemis, she summons warriors from another world. These chosen ones develop at insane speeds, destined to overthrow us.
If that's the case, aren't we nothing but puppets to her whims? Out with it! Tell me everything you remember."
- Writer
