The Greedy Frog
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HP: DnD Chapter 4
🕑 Added 2024-11-27 19:11:36 +0000 UTCChapter 4: The Warlock
He couldn’t quite explain the sensation. The book felt warmer, though his senses insisted otherwise. And the glow—it was tempting him to open it.
“Answers lie in the book, boy,” Paimon suggested. “But you won’t find any unless you open it.”
Deep down, Damien was wary of the demon. Yet, he wanted it to work. Despite the risks and possible horrors, he believed this was the only way to escape mediocrity and achieve something meaningful. Perhaps with this, he wouldn’t have to worry about the bullies—or about being a Muggle-born.
With a steadying breath, he opened the cover, flipping through the pages.
When he finally reached the newly inked page, his eyes widened.
“I assume you see it now,” Paimon said as Damien’s gaze fixed on the inked words.
“What… What is this?”
[Name: Damien Butler]
[Class: —]
[Race: Human]
[Charisma: 3 (2+1)]
[Constitution: 3 (2+1)]
[Dexterity: 3 (2+1)]
[Wisdom: 5 (4+1)]
[Intelligence: 6 (5+1)]
[Strength: 2 (1+1)]
[Points: 0]
[Patrons(+): —]
[Description: Muggle-born with no special talent, only a decent face.]
It felt surreal, seeing his name written in the book, detailing his abilities and flaws in numbers.
“I believe you know what that is,” Paimon continued, unimpressed. “That is what you are now—an insect with abyssal stats.”
Damien wanted to protest. He knew he wasn’t exceptional, but he wasn’t the worst. Still, he held his tongue. In the eyes of a powerful demon like Paimon, he was no more significant than an insect.
“Why am I seeing this?” Damien asked, his curiosity battling his unease. He needed certainty.
“Those aren’t just words,” the demon explained. “They determine your strength, magic, and very being. I don’t even need to look to know how pitiful those numbers are.”
It stung, how lowly Paimon thought of him, but he wasn’t wrong. That was why Damien stayed silent.
What mattered now was finding a way to grow stronger. And Paimon held the answers to that.
“How do I become stronger?” Damien asked, bracing for another taunt.
But Paimon didn’t mock him. Instead, he replied honestly.
“Patrons can grant you power. We demons aid in that,” he said, a calm smile gracing his lips. “And you have yet to make your first Patron.”
Damien’s eyes widened. Not once had Paimon mentioned becoming a Patron himself. He had explained he was a guide, but never implied he wouldn’t be a Patron.
It clicked.
The goblin, the maze, fighting against the odds—it was all a test.
“It was all a test,” Damien whispered, his eyes darting back to where he’d come from. The bloodstains on the floor marked his path, his footprints scattered.
“Took you long enough to realize,” Paimon chuckled. “If I weren’t assigned as a guide, I would’ve made the test more horrifying. Possible, but hard enough to make you regret stepping in here.”
Damien swallowed. The goblins alone could have killed him, and the thought of something worse was terrifying.
“Though this test was only an introduction to the dungeon floors of each demon, it was still deadly enough to kill you horribly.” Paimon glanced at him. “Yet you managed to survive, and with all limbs intact.”
Damien wasn’t sure how to feel but waited for Paimon to continue.
“I don’t know why I was chosen as your guide, but you completed my trial and the first dungeon’s trial.” Paimon’s face grew serious. “So, I commend you. You’ve earned the right to become the contractor of the Ninth Demon, King Paimon.”
Damien muttered, “Does that mean… you’re stronger than most?”
Paimon smirked. “Ninth out of seventy-two should give you a hint, boy.”
Once again, Damien fell silent.
“You’re fortunate, though you may not realize it yet. High-ranking demons don’t come easily.” Paimon extended his hand. “You’ll understand once you receive the gifts that come with having me as your Patron.”
Damien hesitated, unsure why Paimon had extended his hand.
“Your hand, boy.”
Damien stumbled forward and held out his hand. Paimon nodded and gripped his hand, using his sharp nail to carve a mark on Damien’s palm—a complex, looping design resembling a crown, etched in blood.
Damien gritted his teeth to ignore the pain. As the blood trickled, the crown pattern completed.
“Paimonis Gratia Invoco, Mente Luminis, Sapientia Accendo. Dona Regis, Scientiam Tribuo, Dominus Inferni, Potestas Crescit! Verba Veritatis, Audi Meum Vocem, Sic Itur Ad Astra, Paimon, Benedicat!” The demon’s chant washed over him, filling Damien with both warmth and an icy clarity as the sigil on his hand glowed gold.
The chant ended, and Damien’s palm healed, the mark fading. But it left something behind—a tingling sensation coursing through his body. He felt sharper, cooler, as though he’d been seeing the world through fog until now.
“Look at the book, boy,” Paimon commanded. “Look and tell me what you see.”
Damien turned back to the book, flipping quickly to the filled page.
[Name: Damien Butler]
[Class: Warlock]
[Race: Human]
[Charisma: 16 (15+1)]
[Constitution: 15 (14+1)]
[Dexterity: 15 (14+1)]
[Wisdom: 13 (12+1)]
[Intelligence: 11 (10+1)]
[Strength: 9 (8+1)]
[Points: 0]
[Patrons(+): 9th Demon: King Paimon]
[Description: Warlock with high charisma and potential.]
“A Warlock,” Paimon nodded. “But don’t expect the next Patron you find to grant points as generously or assign them for you. You’ll need to distribute them yourself.”
He added, “This time, the book did it because I’m your guide. It aligned the points with my abilities, bringing you closer to your first Patron.”
It wasn’t a lie.
He was stronger. Much stronger.
Damien could feel the difference—lighter, more powerful, and oddly calm.
“Charisma is a trait higher in me than most, which is why you were granted exceptional charisma. Your dexterity and constitution come next, followed by wisdom, setting you on an ideal path to be a Warlock.”
Paimon's explanation prompted Damien to ask, “What is a Warlock?”
“A Warlock is a wizard who derives their power from their patron. While you could have been another class—a sorcerer, perhaps, or even a shaman—you wouldn’t have been able to fully wield your patron’s gift that way.” Paimon looked pleased. “Warlocks need more charisma than others, which you now have because of me.”
Damien looked on, still confused.
“Charisma is the primary attribute that lets Warlocks cast spells. It also makes your lies more convincing and enhances your persuasive abilities,” Paimon added, and Damien finally understood.
“Constitution determines your resilience—how much damage you can take without falling. Dexterity aids your flexibility, accuracy, and stealth.”
Slowly, Damien began to grasp how these traits would help him as a wizard—or rather, a Warlock.
“Wisdom helps with insight and perception, while intelligence aids in absorbing knowledge and investigative skills. And, of course, strength… Well, unless you put everything into strength and become a brainless barbarian, I assume that needs no explanation.”
Damien nodded. “I understand.”
“Good,” Paimon replied. “Now, we come to abilities.” He extended his arm, and this time, Damien stepped forward without hesitation.
But instead of taking his hand, Paimon pressed a finger to Damien’s forehead.
“I, Paimon, lord of knowledge and mystical arts, grant you a fraction of my abilities.” He pointed to the book. “Open it, boy.”
Damien obeyed, and as Paimon spoke, ink appeared on the pages.
“I grant you control over my elements.”
The pages filled with words.
{Earth, Water, and Wind magic greatly enhanced. You now have substantial control over these three elements.}
Damien’s eyes widened as he read.
“I grant you the guidance of the stars.”
{Astronomy Magic acquired: You can now read the stars to find directions, foresee natural disasters, and glimpse hints of chaos.}
“I grant you my art of persuasion.”
{Magic acquired: Silver Tongue: 30% chance to make any lie convincing; 50% chance to sway others when speaking the truth.}
“I grant you my Eye of Worth.”
{Ability acquired: Eye of Worth: Instantly assess the monetary value of anything you wish to know about by looking at it.}
Paimon smiled, pulling back his finger and holding out his hand.
“And finally, I gift you a fragment of my wealth.”
Two necklaces, three bracelets, and three rings appeared in his hand—gold and platinum set with diamonds.
“These powers and gifts are yours to use, both here and in your world,” Paimon said, clearly pleased. “You will receive gifts from others too, though their offerings will be lesser. Yet even one point gained here places you far above thousands in your world.”
Damien felt overwhelmed. He had faced goblins, met Paimon, become a contractor, and gained strength beyond others—all in so little time.
“Thank you,” was all he managed to say.
“Now, look at the plus sign next to ‘Patron’ in the book.”
Damien found it and focused.
[Patron(+): 9th Demon: King Paimon]
“Trace your finger over the plus symbol.”
When he did, new information appeared.
[Patron’s Magic: Earth Magic, Water Magic, Air Magic, Astronomy Magic.]
[Patron’s Skills: Silver Tongue, Eye of Worth]
[Patron's Items: — ]
“Now, place the items on the book.”
Following Paimon’s instruction, Damien set the jewelry on the book, and they vanished.
[Patron’s item’s: Necklace ×2, Ring ×3, Bracelet ×3]
“Where—?”
“Slide your finger over each item,” Paimon instructed, and as Damien obeyed, the items reappeared before him.
“Remember,” Paimon warned, “you can only store what patrons gift you, not what you possess. This is not a storage, but a sacred treasury.”
Damien nodded intently.
“Yes, Lord Paimon.”
“That is all you shall receive from me on this floor, young Damien.” Paimon smiled. “Now, you must go. Time here moves at a sixth the rate of your world, so an hour has already passed there.”
Damien remembered it was nearly breakfast and that he’d soon need to head to his classes.
“Go now, Damien Butler,” Paimon grinned. “Make everything as ironic as your name.”
“How?” Damien asked, unsure of how to return and wondering if he needed to cast the same chant he used to reach the dungeon —which previously failed at his try to return back.
Paimon pointed to the book, where Damien saw the word ‘Return’ which meant returning was only possible after completing the trials and through the ‘Return’ word on the book.
“But remember, Damien Butler,” Paimon warned, his expression darkening, “not every demon will be as honest as I. Most demand sacrifices. The next time you meet me, you must bring one, or face my wrath. When we next meet, I will be a demon, not your guide. I will not be kind.”
Before Damien could respond, Paimon flicked his wrist.
“Go now, and bring a sacrifice next time,” he said, flashing a terrifying smile, the last thing Damien saw before darkness enveloped him. “Otherwise, you shall be the sacrifice.”
Proving to Damien that Demons held certain authority that even the book respected —such as kicking out a contractor without the ‘Return’ option.
