Chapter 15: The First Bargain
Seraphina stood at the edge of the bloody banquet. By now, everything had been stained with blood, even the white tables and delicious looking food had red bloody flavoring.
Like most things in the room, Seraphina's dress was lightly stained, her gaze fixed on Richie Von Rich. She had once looked at him as a charming, calculating noble who had invited her into his web of marriages with that disarming smile.
And even when she had been given this mission by her father under the emperor's orders, she had thought that he was just going to be an unfortunate royal of a much smaller kingdom.
Then after the details of the mission, she assumed that he was cute with his plans. However... the man in her head did not stand nor sit before her. She had a feeling as if she, and possibly the Empire were dancing in his palm.
The Richie she was currently staring at was devoid of his usual charm, his aura was one of cold, unwavering purpose. There was no pain or hesitation in his eyes. Only certainty. And oddly enough, she admired that.
If only he was born of the Empire, she mused. Then maybe... just maybe she would not have minded having him as a real husband—a compliment her peers in the Somaran Empire would have been shocked to hear. Seraphina was very picky with mere toys, much less a husband and she looked upon Richie in high regards.
In this world, strength was greatly admired. Even though Richie had not moved, the fact that he had planned it all out from the beginning was very scary.
One should note that here and now,tge bodies of his children that littered the banquet floor were not few. He was spilling the blood of his kin for his ambitions.
"You're allowed to stare. I don't mind, I'm aware ofmy irresistible charm" Richie suddenly said without looking at her.
Her brow twitched. Arrogant bastard.
She was about to retort when her eyes caught something peculiar. The blood—so much blood—was no longer spreading randomly. It was flowing. Channeling. Directed by unseen forces.
The ritual to feed the Alchemist's seal was at work.
"With this much blood," she muttered, more to herself than him, "the Alchemist's seal will indeed be ready in no time."
That was the first time Richie paused. Not when his children screamed. Not when his wives were slaughtered. But at the mention of the alchemist's seal.
Seraphina noticed.
She smirked. "What, you thought we wouldn't find out? You may have contracted the demon, but clearly, you still lack the finesse when it comes to handling them."
Richie turned toward her, but remained silent.
"There's nothing stopping a demon from speaking about its contract. Especially if there is more to gain from it. That's Rule One... It's kinda cute you didn't know." She giggled a bit, licking the blood that just splashed on her face from a slaughter not very far away.
His brow furrowed.
"The Empire has dealt with demons longer than your kingdom has existed," she continued. "We long monopolized the dungeons and have a better idea of how to handle them. It's only natural that you don't know these things."
Then suddenly she extended her hand. "Come with me to the Somaran Empire. Give up this mad crusade. Swear loyalty to me, and I promise you a comfortable life, no matter how ambitious you are." This was an offer she didn't think she would ever give anybody. But to say she had not been smitten by this terrible man would be a lie.
Lady Seraphina was such a woman, twisted in her own way.
Richie gazed at her, eyes like carved obsidian. Her offer wasn't naive—it was strategic. And still, utterly laughable.
He rose slowly. Deliberately. His presence expanded.
Aether flared from his body like a tide rolling across the room. Heavy. Commanding. Pure.
It was strong enough to make the others who were killing in the room hesitate and turn their heads.
Even Seraphina involuntarily stepped back, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.
It was impossible. The natural Aether in the world was nearly gone. Even the Somaran Empire had to harvest it from dungeons just to train their soldiers. And yet... Richie Von Rich radiated power.
He was definitely assuring as a Blood Knight. Maybe even more. And he hadn't even drawn a weapon.
Just then, a woman rushed forward. It was one of his wives. It was Sansa, Leston's mother. "Husband... Help me! Please...I don't want to die. The Somaran Empire... they are evil." Her voice was filled with desperation, "You promised my tribe that you will love and protect me... I don't want to die—fulfill your promise."
"Hmmm... that's right, my promise. He pulled her up gently by her arm, like a husband about to cuddle his wife. His eyes stared deep into her own as his fingers slowly glided up her skin as if to caress her. They stopped at her neck.
"...Unfortunately, I have a much greater promise to fulfill...I only took you from your tribe because of your unique bloodline—to compliment mine, and give me children that will feed my seal..." The words left his lips—a final judgement to her already sealed fate as he snapped her neck, instantly separating it from the rest of her fragile body.
It was a gory sight that even made Seraphina surprised at his ruthlessness. But weirdly enough, it only made him all the more desirable in her eyes.
And then Richie raised his head to Seraphina.
Immediately, her fingers slipped into her blouse, curling around a Dungeon treasure hidden underneath.
Seraphina was strong, but no fool.
If she couldn't match him... she would use what she must.
But neither of them were ready for what would come next. Because destiny was about to change directions as a result of the decisions of one boy...
---
In the lower halls, surrounded by corpses and darkness, Oliver stood frozen.
His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. His legs trembled. The air was wrong. Heavy. Tainted.
Before him, the demon Accra emerged from the gloom like smoke given form—shifting, hulking, alive in a way that defied human nature.
Its eyes glowed with ancient malice. Fangs too long for its mouth that was barely seen and claws dragging sparks from the ground. Yet there was a sort of weakness to his presence that he only just noticed.
It tilted its head. "A child?"
It moved. Of course, it had been surprised at the arrival of a human child, but meat was still meat, and in its eyes, Oliver was only slightly more tender.
The fear in Oliver's mind had somewhat returned, and his legs almost ran, on their own. Being a slave had hammered terrible habits into his mind.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't blink. Goosebumps littered his skin.
His knees buckled slightly— again, that well trained need to obey in front of superior power overwhelmed him like a wild boar in mating season—such was the life of a former slave. But that image of his sister, Velma, suffering at the hands of that man acted as fuel.
The demon's claws drew close enough to blur in his vision. But then Oliver suddenly brought out the dagger from his side.
The demon gave a mocking smile at his vain effort.
But then Oliver rammed the dagger into his thigh, catching the demon off guard, making it pause mid air.
Yet again, Resolve. More than Fear. His teeth clenched from the pain.
'I faced worse in my past life—humans no more horrible than demons, this is just another one.'
"Contract," Oliver spoke up, yet his voice made steady by the rush of adrenaline that the sudden pain provided.
Accra halted.
Claws stopped inches from Oliver's throat.
Oliver opened one eye, heart pounding. The demon sniffed. A claw grazed Oliver's arm, drew blood, then dipped into its mouth.
"Hmm... I remember," Accra said, its voice now a cold echo. "The little rat in the vents..."
Oliver's skin crawled. Blisters rose. The proximity to the demon's dark aether was already poisoning him.
He swallowed his discomfort, and even the fear that was trying to rise again.
"...You have a contract with my father," he said slowly. "I heard it. You were told to WATCH the seal."
The demon licked his fingers, thoughtful.
"Yes. WATCH."
"Not protect it. Not guard it. Just 'watch'." Oliver added.
The demon's grin widened.
"Clever little heir..."
Oliver exhaled sharply. A lesson from his past life resurfaced.
Always be specific when binding a contract with a demon. Or they will find the cracks.
This was a lesson many nobles in his past life had to learn the hard way, and Oliver had listened to them complain again and again of how they had been tricked out of their treasures.
"Then you don't have to kill... me."
"I don't," Accra admitted, floating around him like smoke. "But I want to. Watching is... dull. You humans scream so well," it's finger pointed to the corpse of soldiers spread on the ground.
Oliver steeled himself. He wanted the Alchemist's seal and pointing out the loop hole in the contract the demon had with his father was not enough reason for the demon to let him go. In fact, on the contrary, it was enough reason to kill him.
Also, demon's were a kind that weighed their options very well, and had loyalty to no one but the terms of their contracts and then themselves.
Oliver knew this. Contracts always came first.
Then again, the demon's reasoning was a straight one. Richie Von Rich would be a bigger problem to address, as he was a man of strength. Oliver was not.
It would be better not to vex Richie, and just eat Oliver up. But Oliver had indeed caught his interest, and Accra wanted to see how this goes.
As the demon would expect, Oliver did not disappoint him.
"In that case, why don't I help you with your boredom... why don't you sign a contract with me."
The air thickened.
Accra stopped moving.
A slow grin formed on its monstrous face. "Hmmm... Speak, little... Heir of ruin... what do you offer?"
Oliver leaned in close as he spoke in a low tone. Just enough for only the demon to hear....
The demon's red eyes widened in shock.