Chapter 11
Am I really that boring? Azazel thought, watching Quets struggle to keep his eyes open.
As he continued explaining everything that had happened since the gods of chaos and earth left him here, the snake god had grown increasingly disinterested. At first, Quets merely sighed, but then the yawning started. By the time Azazel neared the end of his tale, the great serpent deity was nodding off entirely, his head dipping forward like he might pass out at any moment.
Beatrix, on the other hand, was much more engaged. At some point, she had pulled a notebook from her bag—where did that even come from?—and had been diligently jotting things down. She only interrupted once, when Azazel mentioned the hornets, asking him to describe them in detail. After that, she returned to note-taking, her golden eyes sharp with interest.
When he finally finished, she glanced down at her notes and then back up at him. "Is that all, Basil?"
Azazel blinked. "Basil?" he whispered to himself, momentarily confused, before realizing she must have misheard his name.
Before he could correct her, Beatrix spoke again, this time addressing him properly. "Azazel."
He straightened, snapping out of his thoughts. "Yes, ma'am. That's everything. I was hoping to form a pact with one of you to complete my class."
She hummed thoughtfully, shutting her notebook and tucking it away. "I haven't made a pact before, but I don't see why I wouldn't. Quets, on the other hand…" She flicked a glance at the now fully asleep snake god and let out a soft chuckle. "After the first impression you gave him—first angering him, then boring him—I doubt you'll get on his good side anytime soon."
Azazel's eye twitched at the boring comment, but he took a slow breath and forced himself to stay composed. "Do you have any demands if we were to make a pact?"
Beatrix let out a soft buzz, tapping her chin as she considered. "Bees are builders, alchemists, and defenders. We preserve the balance of nature, and from what you've described, your dungeon doesn't yet have anything that might benefit me directly… except for one thing."
Her golden eyes locked onto his, her tone carrying a quiet authority. "When dungeons grow stronger, they gain more floors and can create new monsters. Make a floor and a boss dedicated to me and my kind, and in return, I will grant you greater power than a normal pact. Additionally, if you ever acquire a crystal bee or hornet variant, I want the option to take some into my service. I'm always in need of more workers and warriors."
Azazel considered the offer carefully. It was far more reasonable than he expected—and certainly a better deal than whatever Quets might have demanded. Creating an entire floor in Beatrix's honor would be tricky, but not impossible.
"I accept," he said firmly. "But how do we go through with the pact? Do I offer blood? Make an oath?"
Beatrix giggled, a mischievous glint in her eyes that reminded him a little too much of Nike. The expression made him wary.
"Why don't you come here and find out?" She extended her arm, palm up, as if inviting him to take her hand.
With a sigh of resignation, Azazel stepped forward and placed his hand in hers. Her fingers curled around his before she suddenly yanked him forward, pulling him dangerously close—almost face to face.
Before he could react, her other hand gripped the side of his face roughly, tilting his head as she leaned in.
Then, without warning, she kissed him.
Azazel's eyes went wide, momentarily crossing, and then—
Pain.
A searing heat erupted throughout his entire body, like fire igniting beneath his skin. His vision blurred, his limbs felt weightless, and then—
Everything went black.