Chapter 545
In the few short weeks since that harrowing ordeal, the Imp had undergone a remarkable transformation. Before he harbored jittering nerves and smoldering fear, there was now a measured composure. Pride tempered by discipline. And something else, something flickering behind his black eyes — clarity.
The Imp approached and bowed with the solemn grace of a veteran courtier, a massive folded map held carefully in both hands. The cloth-bound scroll was nearly as tall as he was.
"Lord Ikenga. Lord Keles," he said, his voice smoother than they remembered — controlled, yet still carrying a flicker of reverence, of awe.
Zarvok, reclining on his throne observed the exchange with a crooked smile curling beneath his mask. He leaned forward slightly, his fingers steepled.
"I would like to thank you, Ikenga," Zarvok said, the hint of genuine respect in his usually sardonic tone catching even Keles’s attention. "I don’t know precisely what you did to him... but you’ve changed the structure of how my castle — my home — now runs."
He gestured toward the Imp.
"For a formal introduction: meet Stitch. My new head of servants. A humble title, yes. One often spat on by our kind. But now? It has become one of the most coveted positions in this entire abyssal layer."
Zarvok chuckled darkly, eyes gleaming. "You see, Stitch’s story spreads like wildfire. The Imp who survived the flames of a god and emerged... refined. Controlled. Awakened. Lesser demons whisper his name in envy. Higher demons look twice when he walks past. And now, demons who once slaughtered their own kin to avoid servitude petition him for placement beneath his command."
Ikenga raised a brow, intrigued. "And what story is that?"
Stitch bowed slightly to Zarvok before speaking. "Allow me, milord."
He turned to Ikenga and Keles, eyes gleaming faintly with the memory of his transformation.