Minute Mage: A Time-Traveling LitRPG Progression Fantasy

Chapter 3: Welcome to Hell. What’s Your Name?

A Devil sat at a desk in a damp, dark room. The room was carved into rough stone, no consideration given to comfort, the walls uneven and the room itself just slightly too small. The Devil, however, didn’t mind this. The accommodations were enough for him to do his job, and that was all that mattered. The job he did was simple paperwork; he needed no more than a pen and a surface to write on, and the room provided him with that and more, so he truly felt that it was a bit extravagant.

The Devil himself was Humanoid – although he would never wish to be explicitly compared to a Human – with the normal red skin and blue, glowing veins that highlighted it. The clothes he wore were simple and formal: black, tightly-fitted pieces of cloth that covered his upper and lower body. It was standard attire for those in his division.

And so he sat, quietly reading a budget proposal. The proposal came from an underling, and requested an additional 2.8% manpower be diverted from the front lines of the war effort, and added to the security division of the prison the Devil was running. It was utterly preposterous. A 2.8% increase in manpower was completely outside the bounds of what was reasonable. The claims that the prison was “severely understaffed” and “at risk of an outbreak” were excuses. If they needed a 2.8% increase in manpower, a few of them could just work twice as many hours and that should cover it. Besides, the request was a couple weeks old by now, so they should have figured out a solution to their problem already, anyway.

With a will of Mana, the Devil caused the paper to burst into flames. After he was done with that, the Devil picked up the next paper from the stack on his desk. This one was a request for 0.7% manpower to be diverted from the accounting division into the training division.

He mentally hummed.

A 0.7% shift was definitely much less than 2.8%, but it was still very significant, and would most likely need to go through at least thirteen levels of approval before it would be instated. That said, the Devil was considered to be a bit reckless by the standards of his species, so he signed the proposal anyway. He would send it to his boss later that evening to get the next level of approval. The Devil had just given it its first level, so it would need twelve more until it was put into place. Within a few years, he might actually see the request finish going through.

The Devil sat the paper down, and then went to grab another, this time from a different stack sitting on the other side of his desk. There were many stacks sitting around the office, all neatly squared up reams of paper, some sitting on the desk itself, others on the floor, some in the drawers of the desk, and one was even underneath the Devil’s chair. In total, there were easily multiple thousands of sheets of paper sitting in the Devil’s office, awaiting his approval.

The paper he picked up seemed to be asking for a 3.9% lowered daily quota for the next week in Sector 142B9 of the manufacturing division; apparently two thirds of the people in the factory had died in a gas explosion. The Devil shook his head and burned the paper, not bothering to read any more. 3.9% lower?! Someone was filling these young Demons’ heads with irrational ideas. They’d get a half a percent if they were lucky and promised to make it up during the week after. What they were asking for was just impossible.

A knock rang out on the Devil’s door.

He grabbed another paper as he called out, “You may enter.”

He read the proposal as the guest walked in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it was one of the Ember Mites that worked under him. Ember Mites were small – only standing slightly taller than the length of the Devil’s hand – and were made of a large body with tiny arms and legs that came out of it. It had no head, its eyes and mouth simply protruding out of the top of its large, roundish body. It was the color of charcoal, with flecks of orange and red scattered across it.

The Demon squeaked and stuttered, obviously trying and failing to get words out, before it finally found the ability to speak. “A-An expression of most formal greeting, Xhag’duulinithar’obabaiidook’naisantipoduun’torobaroxhixhonxhaxintep."

The Devil whose name had just been spoken continued reading his paper. It wasn’t like the document was anything important – it was just a report of a confirmation of a confirmation of a request for a confirmation of a request for an order of a resupply of food stocks for Barracks #E4B0972GG – but the Devil just didn’t want to deal with whatever the Ember Mite had to say. However, he also wanted to get the Mite out of his office, and the best way to do that was to hear it out. So, he grabbed his pen, started signing off on the paper, and spoke without looking up.

“An expression of greeting. What is your name, Ember Mite?”

“M-my name is Bronnmiino’tadiimo.”

“Hm. I will call you Bron.”

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“Y-yes. A formal expression of gratitude, Xhag’duulinithar’obabaiidook’naisantipoduun’torobaroxhixhonxhaxintep.”

The Devil was put into a good mood that the Ember Mite – Bron – not only knew his name and pronounced it correctly, but also bothered to say it more than once. Names held great importance in Demon culture, and some of the younger Demons seemed to have forgotten how to be polite, only saying the names of their higher-ups once during the greeting, and avoiding it later because it was ‘too much trouble’ or ‘ridiculous that they would be expected to not only memorize that, but also to say it more than once per interaction.’ Of course, the Devil himself had no need to remember or speak the Ember Mite’s name – the Mite was below him, and should be thankful that the Devil even spoke the first syllable.

“What is it you come to me for, Bron?”

“U-um, it’s Temporus, Overlord of Tomorrows, sir. It has breached containment.”

The Devil frowned. Temporus was a very unique being with the power to control the flow of time. It had been immediately enslaved once its power was discovered, and now was forced to use its powers to aid the 7th Circle of the Underworld – the same circle that the Devil worked in. However, its powers were also very limited in scope, so it never quite became an integral part of their army. That said, it was still an asset, one that the Devil would be remiss to let loose on his watch.

“Have you sent out a recapture team?”

“N-no, sir. Not yet. I was waiting to get your approval to do so.”

The Devil frowned. “You do not need my approval to recapture an escaped asset, Bron. Put one together and have them search for it. Start with the area near the prison, but if need be, you can search the entire seventh circle. Now, get out of my office.”

But the Mite did not leave. Instead, it bowed down, looking to the floor. “W-well, sir, about that…”

The Devil stopped writing and looked up at the Ember Mite, sensing bad news. “What is it, Mite?”

“T… Temporus, i-isn’t, in… the Underworld.” Its entire body was shaking. “I-it escaped to… t-the Overworld.”

Snap.

The Devil’s pen lay broken in half on his desk, the Devil’s writing hand clenched tightly into a fist. A low growl escaped his throat. “What.”

The Ember Mite started trembling even more. “W-w-w-we, we, we don’t know h-how it g-g-got through… p-please, i-it wasn’t my fault… Xh- Xh- Xha- Xhag’du- du-”

The Devil took a deep breath as the Ember Mite struggled to pronounce his name through all of its shaking and stuttering. He calmed himself, and interrupted the Mite’s schpiel. “What is the emergency code?”

“W-what?”

The Devil sighed, shaking his head. These young Demons had no knowledge of proper protocol. “The emergency code. What is it?”

The Ember Mite paused. “U-um, sir, if you w-wouldn’t mind reminding me of the different codes?”

The Devil sighed once again, rubbing his eyes. “Yes, I do mind, Mite. It is ridiculous that you do not know these.”

“Y-y-ye-yes, sir. I-I will m-memorize them as soon as possible. I-I am s-so s-sorry for my i-ignorance. A-a most formal expression of apology.”

The Devil just breathed. “It’s fine, Bron. I’ll explain them to you. A code yellow means the convict has been missing for less than a minute. An orange means one minute to five minutes. A red is five minutes to thirty minutes, and black is thirty minutes to an hour.” The times seemed low, but time ran faster in the Underworld than it did in the Overworld, so it really was completely reasonable to, within what was only a single 'minute', detect that a convict has breached, put together a recapture team, send them out, and catch it. For the Underworld denizens, it would've felt like closer to ten minutes. The Devil just hoped Temporus hadn’t been missing for over five minutes. Red alerts – and especially black ones – were so much paperwork to deal with.

“W-well, sir, I already knew those… I was just, j-just wondering i-if there were any other codes?”

The Devil frowned. “What do you mean, Mite?”

“U-um, like, like, a-are there any codes th-that go further than black?”

The Devil stood from his desk, looking down at the pest. “Mite. What are you trying to say.”

The Ember Mite trembled, staring down at the floor. “U-um, h-how would I tell you that, th-that, th, that, um, T-Temporus has been unaccounted for, for, um, th-th-th-three days?”

The Devil face paled as he froze in place, standing with his eyes wide. Once the moment of shock ended, he immediately snapped back down into his chair, fumbling for a Communication Crystal. He haphazardly pushed Mana into it, activating its effect and waiting impatiently for the person on the other end to answer.

“U-um…” The Ember Mite shuffled in place, reminding the Devil it was there.

“Get out!” He shouted, having completely lost his composure. “Put together a recapture team or something. Fucking kill yourself, for all I care. Just… get out of my sight!”

The communication crystal chimed as the Ember Mite scurried out of the room. “Expression of greeting,” a hard female voice came from it. “You did not schedule this call. May I ask why–”

“Emergency alert!” Normally the Devil would never dream of speaking to a direct superior without first greeting her formally and with her full name – let alone interrupting her – but the current situation was certainly out of the ordinary. “Temporus has escaped to the Overworld! It has been missing for three days!”

“What?! Why did you not inform me of this earlier?” He could hear the rage in her voice.

“Formal expression of apology. I was only just now informed.”

“Xhag’duul you incompetent fucking– okay. You need to come directly to my office. Now.”

“Of course.”

The communication ended, and for a moment, the Devil could do nothing but stare at the crystal. But eventually, he got up from his seat and started pacing around his tiny office. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” He slammed his fist into the wall, cracking the stone and sending a shiver through the whole complex. A stack of papers fell over. He rubbed his fingers across his head and took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. Let’s go.” With that, he exited the office, heading into the main complex he was located in. The room was large and filled with Ember Mites, Lesser Gargoyles, and other office workers quietly doing their jobs. Only, none of them actually were doing their jobs now; all of them were staring at the Devil . They’d all heard the yelling and punching of the wall, so they knew something bad had just happened.

“S-sir,” one of the Gargoyles spoke up, its deep, crunchy voice splitting the silence, “would you like–”

“Shut the fuck up,” he interrupted it without looking over, “and get the teleporter ready.”

The Devil knocked on his superior’s door. About a minute passed with no response, but he waited patiently. Eventually, a voice came out.

“Enter.”

He opened the door, stepping in while looking pointedly downward, as was etiquette. “An expression of most formal greeting, Superior Quinmorada’qualticularoohdodonmi’asmomonomomonminmi’oohdoohdimyuumyuuquanquimi’jinndarrqyuqyakwuquoquanki’miminanmujardinmani’quokinwukanquokokanki.” Business was urgent, but now that the Devil’s superior was at least informed about the emergency, the Devil could show a bit more refinement. At the very least, being polite could temper her anger.

“Expression of greeting. I will call you Xhag’duul.”

“Formal expression of gratitude, Superior Quinmorada’qualticularoohdodonmi’asmomonomomonminmi’oohdoohdimyuumyuuquanquimi’jinndarrqyuqyakwuquoquanki’miminanmujardinmani’quokinwukanquokokanki.”

“This is an urgent meeting. I appreciate your formality, but for the time being, you may call me Superior, without the name.” She took a breath. “Now, you said Temporus has been in the Overworld for three days? Oh, you may raise your head, too.”

The Devil raised his head and gazed at his superior. She was a Devil, like him, and wearing the same plain black clothes. Her office looked near-identical to his, with the rough stone walls and slightly-too-small floor space – or, at least, it would look near-identical to an outsider. Any Demon worth its fire would be able to recognize that this office belonged to someone of much higher stature than the Devil. It was larger. It was 2.8 percent larger, to be exact – 0.1 percent for each stacking position of power she had above him, as was the standard way of delineating office size.

“Yes, Superior,” the Devil said. “Temporus has been missing for three days.”

“Okay. A simple recapture team will not work in this instance. In three days, it could have gone almost anywhere in the territory it escaped to. I’ll contact the upper brass and ask for a Diviner squad so we can first locate its general area, and then afterward, once we find it, you can send in a recapture team. Ideally, we can just send in a small squad of soldiers, have them grab Temporus, and then come back with the Overworld denizens none the wiser. We do not want to harm our relations with them by letting them find out we’re sending military into their realm. They’re already incredibly cautious, and war could break out if we aren’t careful.”

“Of course, Superior.”

She hummed. “...That said, circumstances may be that we’d need to send in more than a small squad. Temporus could be captured or it could have somehow ended up in a densely populated area, around powerful Humans. In that case… I’ll speak with some of the other departments and try to set up preparations. We’ll hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Yes, Superior. Formal expression of gratitude, Superior.”

“And, of course, there is also the possibility that Temporus has… perished.” Her face darkened. “In that case, you are to report directly to me. It shouldn’t be likely – Temporus’s powers make it uniquely… survivable – but there is always the possibility. Do try to encourage the Diviners that will be assigned to you to work as accurately and quickly as possible. I will authorize a 5% decrease in the daily quota of your sector so that you may focus more on that.”

The Devil was shocked at the huge leniency given to him with the decrease in daily quota; It was obvious that his superior wanted Temporus captured quickly. “A most formal expression of gratitude, Superior. Your kindness will not be wasted. I will have Temporus located as quickly as possible.”

“Yes. I hope you will.”