Chapter Four: Of Angels and Algorithms
1048 Words
Krok trudged down the bustling city streets, the ghost hovering at his side. The faint glow of the streetlights reflected off his crimson skin, but the humans passing by barely gave him a second glance. Some even waved or gave him a thumbs-up, assuming he was still “in costume.”
“This realm is infuriating,” Krok muttered. “No one fears me. I am a demon of Hell. My very presence should inspire terror!”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” the ghost quipped. “Humans have seen worse on cable news.”
Krok let out a low growl but said nothing. He was tired, humiliated, and clutching a crumpled map Jason had given him with directions to an electronics store.
It was then that he saw it.
A figure emerged from an alley, bathed in the glow of a neon sign. They wore flowing white robes, their face framed by a halo of golden light. A pair of feathery wings protruded from their back, catching the breeze as they strode confidently down the street.
Krok froze. His eyes widened. His claws twitched instinctively.
“An angel?” he hissed under his breath.
The ghost turned, squinting at the figure. “Uh, no. That’s just someone in a costume. You’re not the only one playing dress-up, Big Red.”
“It’s a trap,” Krok growled. “They’ve sent an angel to finish me off while I’m vulnerable.”
“Oh, please,” the ghost said, rolling its spectral eyes. “I bet that’s just Karen from accounting on her way to a Halloween party.”
But Krok wasn’t convinced. He ducked behind a trash can, his massive frame barely concealed. The angel walked closer, its wings swaying gracefully with every step.
As it passed, Krok leaped out, pointing a clawed finger at the figure. “Reveal yourself, servant of the Heavens! I will not be vanquished so easily!”
The “angel” shrieked, dropping their bag of takeout and stumbling backward. “Oh my God, dude! Chill! It’s just a costume!”
Krok blinked, his confidence faltering. “What… costume?”
The “angel” gestured wildly to their wings and robes. “I’m dressed as Gabriel! You know, from the Good Omens series? It’s for a cosplay meetup!”
Krok frowned, utterly confused. The ghost, meanwhile, was doubled over with laughter.
“Oh, this is priceless,” the ghost wheezed. “You’re so paranoid, you just threatened a guy who wanted a burger and fries.”
The “angel” glared at Krok, muttered something about “weirdos,” and stormed off, leaving the demon standing awkwardly in the street.
“This world,” Krok grumbled, “is an absolute joke.”
The electronics store was bright, overwhelming, and filled with humans who didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the seven-foot-tall demon browsing their aisles.
“Hey, dude, need help finding something?” asked a young employee in a polo shirt with a name tag that read Logan.
“I seek a… laptop,” Krok said hesitantly, eyeing the glowing screens around him.
“Sweet. Any specific brand or specs you’re looking for?”
Krok blinked. “I do not know what those words mean.”
“No worries, man. Let me show you some options,” Logan said cheerfully, leading Krok to a display table.
As the employee explained the various features—RAM, storage, processors—Krok nodded as though he understood. The ghost floated behind him, whispering, “Just get the cheapest one, Big Red. You’re not hacking the Pentagon here.”
“I shall take… this one,” Krok declared, pointing to a sleek black laptop.
“Excellent choice,” Logan said, ringing him up. “That’ll be $699.”
Krok handed over his cash, muttering about “human extortion,” and left the store with the ghost cackling beside him.
“Alright, let’s see how you do with this magical knowledge box,” the ghost teased.
Back at the park bench where Krok had set up his makeshift base, he opened the laptop and powered it on. After a brief struggle with the touchpad (“Why does it not respond to my claws?!”), he managed to open the Google homepage.
“Now,” he said, his voice determined. “Let’s find the solution to this cursed device.”
He typed, slowly and awkwardly, into the search bar: how to fix demon rift device
The results were… less than helpful.
“‘How to fix a Demon Slayer action figure?’” Krok read aloud, his brow furrowing. “What is this nonsense?”
“Try something else,” the ghost suggested, stifling a laugh.
Krok tried again: hell portal repair manual
The results were equally useless.
“‘Top 10 Signs Your Wi-Fi is Possessed?’” Krok muttered angrily. “What is wrong with these humans?!”
“You’re probably not gonna find a step-by-step guide on Hell tech,” the ghost said dryly. “Try something simpler. Like just searching for demons or Hell.”
Krok sighed and typed: demon hell nearby
The results this time were surprisingly intriguing. At the top of the page was an event listing:
“Join the Infernal Order of the Crimson Flame! Weekly rituals to commune with dark forces! Every Friday night at the abandoned church on 6th Street.”
Krok leaned closer to the screen. “What is this?”
The ghost floated over his shoulder, reading the description. “Oh, man. A devil-worshipping cult? This is gonna be good.”
“They claim to commune with dark forces,” Krok said, his tone skeptical. “Perhaps they know something about repairing Rift devices.”
“Or they’re just a bunch of goth kids playing with candles,” the ghost said. “Either way, it’s worth checking out.”
Krok shut the laptop, his fiery eyes gleaming. “Then we shall pay these mortals a visit. If they truly serve the forces of Hell, they may be of use to me.”
“And if they’re just LARPing?” the ghost asked.
“Then I’ll crush their little game and move on,” Krok growled.
The ghost grinned. “This is gonna be hilarious.”
- Writer
