There once was a lonely, ineffectual dragon named Grim Matchstick. He was a pudgy, light green beast, standing at an impressive 20 feet tall. But Grim was unpopular among his peers, for one simple reason; his flames just weren't up to snuff. While most other dragons could spew awe-inspiring infernos from their mouths, Grim could hardly manage enough to cook a steak. Compounding that was the fact that he spoke with a persistent stutter, which made it difficult for anyone to take him seriously.

In fact, "Matchstick" was a cruel nickname his peers had inflicted on him, since his flames were comparable in size to the flame you'd get from striking a match. "Grim", on the other hand, was his name from birth - although some remarked that it was rather apropos, since his prospects as a dragon were rather grim.

But his prospects changed one afternoon. Grim, in typical fashion, was spending his time drifting sullenly amongst the clouds, cursing fate for dealing him such a cruel hand.

"Of w-w-what use is a d-d-dragon who cannot b-b-burn a knight alive in his own a-a-armor?" Grim asked to nobody in particular. "Sometimes I w-w-wish I had never been b-b-born."

Just then, Grim was taken aback when one of the clouds in front of him changed color from a milky white to a fiery red. Grim had seen plenty of gray clouds, and quite a few black ones, but never in his life had he ever seen a red one. The cloud then spun around rapidly and began to change shape, like a mound of clay on a potter's wheel. It narrowed and compressed itself into the form of a slender humanoid, with horns, wings and a tail. Then with a bang, it burst apart, and from it emerged the Devil himself.

"You poor, unfortunate thing," boomed the Devil. Although he was a fraction of Grim's size, his voice was more than loud enough to reach the dragon's ears. "What if I told you that I could imbue you with the power to spew the fires of Hell itself from your snout?"

Grim Matchstick backed away from the Devil, wringing his claws. "I d-d-don't know," he said. "W-w-what's the c-c-catch?"

"You must offer me your soul in return," said the Devil.

Grim, who had a feeling that the Devil would demand such a price, shook his head. "N-n-no way. No d-d-d-deal. I like my s-s-soul where it i-i-is, thank you very m-m-much."

But the Devil was too shrewd to let a hard "no" deter him. He always approached his mark with a plan B in mind - and, if necessary, a plan C, a plan D and a plan E.

"How about this?" he offered. "I will give you the power, and you can keep it for free - as long as you're never, ever defeated in combat. But if someone should best you, your soul is mine."

Grim thought this over for a moment. "The f-f-fires of H-H-Hell, you say?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," said the Devil. "Larger, hotter and more destructive than that of any other dragon. You can take my word on that."

And that was all the convincing Grim needed. After all, he knew of quite a few dragons who were never felled by a knight in their long lives. If he was stronger than even them, there was no chance he would ever be at risk of losing his soul.

"D-d-deal!" he said, shaking the Devil's hand. The Devil snapped his fingers, sparking an ember that swelled into a giant fireball. The fireball spun around the dragon's head at dizzying speed before lodging itself straight into his nostrils, causing him to cough up a storm.

"The power is yours!" said the Devil. "Go on and try it."

Curious, Grim turned away from the Devil, took a deep breath, and spat as hard as he could. Two balls of fire, each as big as his head, came rocketing out of his mouth. A passing albatross got caught in their path and was burned beyond recognition.

"W-w-wow!" exclaimed Grim. "T-t-that's potent s-s-stuff!"

"And that's not all you can do," the Devil said gleefully. "Try opening your mouth and unraveling your tongue."

Elated, Grim followed his instructions, and was enchanted as a literal parade of smiling flames came marching out of his mouth.

"One, two, three, four, other dragons make Grim snore!" they chanted. "Five, six, seven, eight, compared to Grim they're second rate!"

Grim jittered with excitement, and was almost tempted to reach out and hug the flames for lavishing him with such praise. Upon further experimentation, he found that he could also sprout two additional heads from his neck, one of whom could turn into a giant blowtorch.

"I trust you are satisfied?" asked the Devil.

"V-v-very m-m-much so!" cried Grim. "T-t-thank you!"

"It was my pleasure," said the Devil. And with that, he disappeared in a puff of red smoke.

This is great! thought Grim. Nobody will ever be able to defeat me as long as I have this power!

And for quite a while, no one did. Not only did Grim Matchstick make short work of every knight who stepped forth to oppose him, but he also made all of his scornful peers eat their words. For years to come, Grim Matchstick would be renowned throughout Inkwell Isle as the dragon who cannot be slain.

This went on until the day he was paid a visit by two unlikely challengers - a pair of young men named Cuphead and Mugman...