Silence had finally returned to the throne room, or almost. Barnabas the Mage had fallen asleep against a pillar, clutching a frozen trout to him like a makeshift pillow. Kaelas, the skeleton, was still prostrate on the floor, nervously stacking fish to form a derisory rampart. As for Maurice the worm, he had settled comfortably back into Kaelas's eye socket and was staring at Leo with the air of an art critic facing an unfinished canvas.
Vark cautiously approached his Master, careful not to step on a frozen fin.
"Master Leo," whispered the advisor in a honeyed tone. "Let's be realistic. If a group of adventurers comes through that door, we're dead. Your staff is... a bug in the matrix. Kaelas has the courage of a lettuce, and the Mage is a walking disaster."
Vark pointed a claw toward the Grimoire of Source floating in front of the throne.
"You are the God here. You cannot rely on them for your safety. You must create your own instrument of defense. A signature."
Leo stared at the blank pages. His old charadesigner instincts kicked in. In his former life, he was asked to draw generic swords. But here, there was no art director to stifle his creativity.
"I don't need a sword," Leo murmured, his basalt voice vibrating through the room. "I need something with bite."
He plunged his claw into the Grimoire. Demonic ink spurted from its veins, black and thick. He began to trace a long, curved, aggressive shape. A scythe. But not just any scythe. He drew a handle made of blackened dragon bone and a blade of obsidian so thin it seemed to cut through the air itself.
At the junction, he sketched two grinning skulls, intertwined in the metal.
"Oh, a little relief!" Maurice enthused from Kaelas's eye socket. "But watch the perspective on the left jaw!"
Leo ignored the worm and injected a massive dose of mana. The page lit up with an electric purple glow, and with a crash of broken glass, the weapon materialized in his claws. It was heavy, powerful, and... it immediately began to speak.
"FINALLY!" exclaimed the top skull in a high-pitched, sarcastic voice. "It's about time! We were suffocating in your book, artist!"
"Shut up, brother," growled the skull below in a voice from beyond the grave. "Look around you. We're among the infirm."
Leo twirled the scythe, its blade leaving a trail of ink particles behind it. The two skulls began to snicker in unison.
"These are my new collaborators," Leo declared, a dark smile stretching across his demonic lips. "Vark, you're right. My staff is obsolete. But with this scythe, I will be able to 'rectify' the errors of this world."
Barnaby woke up with a start, staring at the weapon with wide eyes.
"Unbelievable... A weapon with a built-in audio system! This is the future!"
Leo tucked his scythe behind his back, the two skulls continuing to argue over who would bite the first adventurer.
"Vark," Leo said decisively. "We've wasted enough time. Open access to the Dungeon Lords' Black Market. If I can't get out of here, I'll at least make sure the others know who the new owner is."