The Secretary's God-Tier Glitch

Chapter 2: Performance Review vs. Demon Lord

"Mr. Henderson, if I told you that the breakroom was attacked by a sentient glob of industrial waste that tried to eat me, would you believe me?" Bimo asked, his voice cracking.

Henderson didn't move. His gaze remained locked on the pulsating, golden stapler in Bimo’s grip. "Bimo, do you know what a severance package is?"

"Is it the one where I get to keep my dignity?"

"It’s the one where you’re escorted out by security for destroying company property." Henderson stepped over a chunk of pulverized drywall. "Drop the stapler, Bimo."

"I can't. It’s… it’s attached. Emotionally."

A familiar, icy chime rang through Bimo’s skull. The air in the HR office warped, a translucent blue screen blooming before his eyes, blocking his view of Henderson’s twitching left eye.

[URGENT QUEST: THE DEMON LORD’S THRESHOLD. Teleport to the Demon Castle immediately or face the 'Quest Failure Penalty'.]

"No, no, no," Bimo hissed, waving his hand at the air. "Not now. I have a mortgage. I have a 401k."

"Are you talking to yourself?" Henderson asked, his tone shifting from angry to genuinely concerned. "Bimo, did you hit your head during the… whatever that was?"

"I’m just having a really bad Tuesday, Mr. Henderson. Can we reschedule this review? Maybe to, like, never?"

[PENALTY: SALARY DEDUCTION – 50%.]

Bimo’s jaw dropped. "Fifty percent? That’s not a penalty, that’s a mugging! I refuse to be poor for the sake of your weird RPG fantasy!"

"I’m calling the paramedics," Henderson muttered, reaching for his desk phone.

"Don't! I’m fine! See?" Bimo stood up, clutching his chest. "I’m perfectly stable. I’m just… vibrating."

"Vibrating with what? Insubordination?"

"Vibrating with the sheer stress of hitting these quarterly targets, sir. You know how Q3 gets."

Suddenly, the fluorescent lights flickered, casting long, oily shadows that seemed to detach themselves from the floor. A raspy, wet breathing sound filled the small office, despite the windows being sealed.

"Did you hear that?" Bimo asked, his heart drumming a frantic rhythm.

"Hear what? The sound of my patience evaporating?"

"No, the demonic growl. It’s right behind you."

Henderson spun around, his face turning an ash-gray. Perched on top of the filing cabinet was a creature the size of a bulldog, but with the anatomy of a hairless, chitinous bat. It had three eyes that burned like embers and claws that clicked hungrily against the metal.

"Bimo," Henderson squeaked, "what is that?"

"It’s a minion. Don't look it in the eye. They hate eye contact."

"Why does it have wings, Bimo? Why is it drooling acid onto my performance reviews?"

"Because the universe hates us, Henderson! Get behind the desk!"

The creature screeched—a sound like grinding metal—and launched itself off the cabinet. It wasn't aiming for Henderson; it was aiming for the glowing stapler.

"It wants the loot!" Bimo yelled, scrambling over the desk and tackling the creature mid-air. They hit the carpet in a tangle of limbs and shadows.

"My stapler! You’re crushing the upholstery!" Henderson shrieked, backing into the corner.

"Henderson, get the door!" Bimo grunted, pinning the creature’s writhing neck with his elbow. The demon hissed, its breath smelling like burnt hair and sulfur. "I need you to open the photocopier room!"

"The breakroom is already a hole in the wall! You want to destroy the printer room too?"

"Unless you want this thing to eat your face, open the door!"

Henderson fumbled with the handle, swinging the door to the small, cramped storage closet open.

"Now!" Bimo yelled. He rolled, throwing the squirming, screeching demon toward the room. It flew through the air, claws scrabbling for purchase, and slammed into the glass scanner of the high-end industrial copier.

"Close it! Hit the 'Copy' button! It’s the only way!"

"Why would that help?" Henderson shouted, though he lunged for the start button anyway.

"Just press the green button!"

As the copier’s bright, blinding light bar scanned across the glass, the demon shrieked in agony, its shadow-form disintegrating under the intense, artificial UV glare. It burst into a shower of sparks and soot, leaving nothing but a faint outline of a bat-like wing on the scanner glass.

The room went silent. Bimo slumped against the doorframe, gasping for air.

"Did you just… kill it with a Xerox machine?" Henderson asked, his voice trembling.

"It was a multi-function device," Bimo wheezed. "It had a high-resolution laser."

Henderson stared at the burnt remains of the copier. "I am going to have to explain this to the insurance company, aren't I?"

"I think you have bigger problems."

"What could possibly be worse than the breakroom, the HR office, and the printer room being vaporized?"

"Look at the lobby," Bimo whispered.

Beyond the glass partition of the office, the lobby lights had turned a deep, blood-red. A man stood there, clad in leather armor that looked like it had been forged in the heart of a forge-fire. He held a massive broadsword, and his eyes were scanning the office hallways with cold, calculating precision.

He wasn't an employee. He was a predator.

"Who is that?" Henderson whispered, terrified.

"That," Bimo said, gripping the stapler until his knuckles turned white, "is either the guy who’s going to save us, or the guy who’s going to finish what that demon started."

The stranger looked up, his gaze fixing directly on Bimo. He began to walk toward them, his boots echoing with the sound of a death knell.

"Is he coming for your stapler?" Henderson asked.

"I think he’s coming for my soul."