A gargantuan serpent of epic proportions, easily dwarfing the vastness of multiple star systems, sat coiled around a similarly vast throne of writhing dark infernal shadow; exuding such an immense aura, its mere presence displaced planetary bodies in this vast mass of infinite space it currently occupied, suspended leisurely with six other similar mythical creatures, just as heaven-defying.
"We have waited for more than a year now. I believe it's safe to say that Zorat will not be joining us for this time's thousand millennia meeting." Effortlessly commanding the runes of sound. The serpent hissed in an ancient rhythm that reverberated through that cosmic space. Its tone layered with reserved caution and measured hopeful optimism.
"Now. Don't go jinxing it by speaking his name, Qora. But yes. It would appear fortune favors us this time around. We can proceed with peace of mind." A mythical minotaur uttered with a reserved grin, swaying its hooves in that vastness of infinite space, with what could only be described as abundant glee.
This euphoric state was not shared by him alone, as the others soon commenced cheerful greetings to one another, happily regaling themselves with the happenings in their various domains over the past thousand millennia.
But there appeared one in deep thought, its expression contorting intermittently from a worried frown, into a pale-like shudder. Finally unable to contain its thoughts, it muttered in a shrill empyrian voice.
"But…. what if that mischievous fiend is cooking up something way more nefarious with this absence of his?" Uttered a creature with the torso of a lion, and the lower portion of a scorpion. Its statement triggered a fight-or-flight response in the others. like a bucket of ice-cold water in winter. They all immediately stopped conversing and turned in its direction with rapt attention.
"Think about it. He has never once missed his chance to make our existence a nightmare. Why start now?" The creature added. Its tone and expression were marred by worry and freshly healed emotional wounds. One that apparently the others shared, as they cast weary glances at one another, communicating their dread through a bond forged in mutual trauma.
The infinite space, which should have been ripe with celebrations signaling that demon's absence, was now doused in a long quiet that spoke of solemn apprehension. All these great beings, reminiscing about their harrowing experiences, and going pale at the thought that that person could perhaps be 'cooking up something worse'. The silence was broken when one of them, a dragon with golden scales, spoke up. Its voice measured, but carried a newfound courage.
"There is 'That One' though. We can all agree he wouldn't dare go too far, with 'that one' always watching." The dragon spoke reassuringly as he gazed into the eyes of the creature next to it, who was a demonic succubus with massive double horns.
The succubus nodded in agreement, and so did the others, as a look of relief spread through their expressions. It would seem the mention of 'That One' was all the moral boost these ancient existences needed. They quickly regained their dignified and intimidating aura, but they still occasionally cast cautious glances into the distant stars; no doubt worried that the menace they feared would suddenly change his mind and make a last-minute appearance.
It wouldn't be that much of a stretch. He had done worse on various occasions.
He is the Primordial Demon King of Mischief for a reason.
*****
On a vast planet, the size of Star Systems, with several times compressed and layered ancient runes, criss-crossing in fiery patterns over its gargantuan mass of land. Right in the middle sat an anthropomorphic being of almost equal size to the vast, barren planet underneath him.
He is a mass of pure muscle and crimson skin, which is engraved with countless ancient runic patterns, with eight space-shattering arms sprawled out, and actively inscribing runes into the fabric of that space, which twisted, shimmered, and blended into the drawn-out circle that ran for millions of kilometers beneath him, pulsing as if alive.
"Finally. It's ready. Fuck you motherfucker." Zorat bellowed in exhilaration; his voice thunderous, and his eight arms pointing skyward, and all middle fingers standing straight. He had finally completed his masterpiece. A result that took him several millennia to perfect. The blueprint for a summoning formation, strong enough to send the soul of a Primordial demon king out of this plane of existence and into another.
It wouldn't have taken so long if it were only that, though. He needed to make sure the summoning ritual would not alert the one that dwells beyond. So he first designed this full-proof runic-dissonance barrier across this barren planet of his domain, which served to scatter all runic vibrations as he worked on his summoning formation.
He had poured countless resources, time, and effort into this last-ditch attempt at freedom. And it had all been worth it, because he can now finally send his soul to another plane, and revel in the joys of mortality, growth, and something that had been lost to him for thousands of years; thrill. Heart pounding, adrenaline gushing thrill.
You see, on getting to his current power level. Zorat discovered too late that he had walked right into his biggest fear. He was strong; too strong in fact. Stronger than all other primordial demon kings. But he wasn't the strongest; not even close. That honor belonged to a single being in this dimension. And he discovered too late that no other being could reach the level of that entity.
And for Zorat, who couldn't grow any stronger, and also couldn't descend into lower planes of existence to have some fun, because he was, quote-on-quote, 'too strong'; and even if he attempts to force his way into one, he would be forcefully blocked by 'that one' every time.
Now he could only mingle with beings on his level, and on this wretched plane, which can accommodate their strength. Just himself and seven others resided on this plane. And only able to make indirect contact with other planes.
He had his fun with those seven cronies when he first joined their ranks, but it soon all turned suffocatingly dull. Much unlike his fun life as an ordinary demon, rising through the ranks of hell. He yearns to get those feelings back. And after countless years. This was the plan he had come up with.
He would send his soul down into a lower plane and into the body of the first appropriate human he finds. Easy peasy.
Why a human, you ask ?. Because 'that being' would never expect such a move from him. And he also felt humans were fun, amusing little creatures he could play with.
He had also spent years designing a soul-runic spell, which he would activate upon his arrival to shield the mark that 'that one' had left on his soul. Contingencies upon contingencies. There has never been a more perfect plan.
Zorat's laugh thundered through the planet as he prepared to activate the summoning ritual. However, he paused mid stroke, as he brought his crimson pupils down below, gazing solemnly at his immortal frame.
"My body…. All that effort…." He grimaced. His body was anointed in the bowels of Hell. Carved with the essence that birthed planes of existence. A body blessed in the most pure, most vile, infernal flames when he made his ascention as a Primordial demon king.
Now this body will be used up as a catalyst for his summoning.
A demon's body is their strength, and their everything. At least until they become beings that have forged their own authorities, like the primordial demon kings. But it still hurts to lose one, as only Zorat understands the trouble that went into carving such a form. But what could he do ?. Zorat smiled. A crazed look in his eye.
None could afford the causal burden of actually summoning a Primordial demon king. You would need to sacrifice entire planes of existence to do that. But he could summon himself with his own body as the fuel source.The body of a primordial demon king is equal to several planes of existence.
He had considered using one of the other primordials, but these are beings of authority with countless safety measures. And even if he was stronger, it wasn't by that much. And if he was being honest with himself. It wasn't them he feared. It was 'that one' who would for sure be alerted if he made such an open move and end up ruining his entire plan.
Cracking his forty fingers with thunderous pops that displaced time, Zorat slammed all eight palms on the ground, sending shockwaves through the fabric of space. The planet shuddered and threatened to break apart underneath such colossal stress, but it held, as Zorat had reinforced it multiple times for this very moment.
The summoning formation lit up in blinding, all-encompassing aurora, as Zorat's immortal coil soon began spiraling with fiery cracks. The pain should have been unbearable, as the flesh of a primordial wasn't designed to tear or break apart.
"Hehehe"
But Zorat was laughing; laughing like he had not done in countess millenia. This pain was the first real sensation he had felt since he became a literal immortal.
Zorat was on cloud nine. The pain was heavenly to him. He wished it could go on endlessly, but sadly, his body was soon completely disintegrated into motes of infernal essence, finally igniting the summoning ritual.
Almost simultaneously, a red royal crimson flame burst out of the planet with such momentum that it shattered the already stressed planet into rubble, before disappearing entirely from that plane.
The instant the crimson flame disappeared. The entire plane shook visibly for a moment before going completely still. Time had frozen over. And an entity of indescribable form and impossibly vast aura, gazed down on Zorat's designated domain with a scowl. And where Zorat had disappeared, a couple of seconds later, a blue mass of energy materialized.