The mercenary guild was nearly empty in the early morning. Belial approached the receptionist and applied to join. It took only ten minutes to receive his guild badge.
The only unexpected complication arose when he filled in his name. The guilds crystal orb detected an Eastern mark attached to it.
At the sight of this, the receptionists demeanor changed immediately. Recognizing Belial as either an Eastern human or a yokai, she became cold and indifferent, informing him that Eastern applicants were subject to a three-month review period, pending approval from the guild headquarters.
Belial had neither the patience nor the interest in waiting. Without hesitation, he scratched out "Belial" and replaced it with "Belial."
The crystal orb glowed blue, signifying that "Belial" was indeed a true name, just like "Belial," but this time carrying a Western mark.
The receptionists expression became indescribablenot because Belial possessed two authentic, continent-recognized names, but because
**Belial.**
Even the lowest of the low from the slums wouldnt curse their children with such an ill-fated name.
Yet, the crystal orb had validated it. She had no choice but to hand over the guild badge.
Belial accepted the emblem, engraved with a sword and a staff, and made his way toward the adjacent quest hall. As he turned to leave, his gaze lingered for a moment on the crystal orb beside the receptionists hand.
The moment the door to the reception room closed behind him, a sharp scream echoed through the air. Belial, unfazed, continued walking.
The receptionist, pale and panicked, flung open the door, calling out to the guild manager who had rushed over at the sound. "The crystal orbtheres a crack! I swear, I didnt even touch it"
As her voice trembled, another sound arosesoft, childlike singing, ringing eerily in the air:
*"Belial, Belial, worthless Belial,*
*Slothful Belial, demon lord Belial"*
Belial ignored the hallucinations whispering in his ears, focusing instead on the vast wall of quest postings in the guild hall.
The magical formation had transported her one hundred and twenty-two years into the past. Now, she had two choices
The first: remain in this era. With elven blood in her veins, a hundred years meant little. She could wait out the time until she could save her adoptive mother.
The second: reconstruct the magic circle and attempt once more to reach the Imperial Year 98, the time she had originally intended.
She chose the second.
Reconstructing the formation required a multitude of materials. Most of them she already possessed, stored safely within her dimensional bracelet.
However, some materialswhether a century ago or a century into the futurecould never be procured through conventional means. They were monopolized by the church or the nobility.
Belial had experience with such obstacles. By accepting the right guild commissions, she could find legitimate reasons to infiltrate the sources of these materials and take what she needed.
Her boots clicked crisply against the polished floor as she strode through the hall, scanning the mission board in search of the keywords she required.
Then, she stopped.
Her gaze shifted from the crowded wall of quests to another, nearly bare, where a single bounty was posted.
It was a commission from **Alfheim**, the homeland of the elves.
The Duke of Alfheim, Chloris Bright, sought the bones of a Thunder Dragon to heal his ailing wife.
How convenient. Belial lacked many thingsbut Thunder Dragon bones were not one of them. Yet, that was not the true reason this bounty had captured her attention.
What truly gave her pause was the name of the Duke**Chloris Bright.**
Her grandfather.
He had died before she was born. The world debated endlessly over the cause, but Belial knew the truth
The esteemed elven duke, unable to bear the loss of his wife, had taken his own life.
The knowledge left her unmoved.
Calmly, she weighed her options, then decidedshe would use this opportunity, this debt of gratitude for providing the dragon bones, to extract from him the materials she needed.
And, perhaps, she would test a theory
Could she change the future?
Belial stepped forward and tore the bounty from the board.
**Five days had passed since she had accepted the commission.**
Through a carefully orchestrated network of teleportation arrays, arranged by the mercenary guild and sympathetic elven cities along the way, she had been discreetly transported to the elven homeland, evading the eyes of the church.
"Are you sure a no-name backwater town has mercenaries capable of delivering Thunder Dragon bones to the Duke?"
A pale-green-haired elf, assigned to escort the hired mercenary, voiced his skepticism mid-journey. "I bet its just another human trying to pull a scam. They always think cunning is their racial trait, always convinced they can manipulate everyone elsepathetic and arrogant."
"This time, youre wrong, Gulian," his companion corrected him. "According to the guilds records, the mercenary is one of our own."
"A fellow elf?" Gulian frowned. "Impossible. If they were truly elven, why wouldnt they have returned directly to present the bones to the Duke?"
"Perhaps" His companions gaze shifted to a lone figure standing in the agreed meeting place. "They are mixed-blood."
Following his companions gaze, Gulians eyes settled on a small figure clad in heavy garments.
A wide-brimmed hat concealed most of her face, veiling all but a few strands of black hair cascading down a snow-white neck.
Elves bore light-colored hair. Black hair among them could mean only one thingmixed heritage.
A century from now, even beings of darknessdemons, undeadwould walk freely upon this land, unshackled from discrimination.
But in this era, half-bloods were outcasts, never truly accepted as kin.
Gulian and his companion collected the proof of identification from the girlBelialverifying that she indeed possessed Thunder Dragon bones, as confirmed by the guild.
They led her into the Dukes castle, where, per his instructions, she was temporarily accommodated in a small receiving hall.
The castle was grand, lavish, yet alive with greenery. Tiny fae, their translucent wings shimmering with ethereal light, flitted between the flowers, tirelessly gathering nectar.
Belial recalled the breathtaking scenery she had passed through, inwardly acknowledgingthe **Duke of Alfheim** lived up to his title.
She had never been here before.
Even after her grandfathers passing, when her father had inherited the title and estate, **this had never been her home.**
The door creaked open behind her. She turned.
A golden-haired elf entered.
Elves were natures darlingsethereal, exquisite beings, unparalleled in beauty. Yet Belial was certain**Chloris Bright, the grandfather linked to her by blood, was the most beautiful elf she had ever seen.**
He was not only beautifulhe was imposing. Though he lacked the towering, muscular build of the beastfolk, his presence alone commanded deference, radiating an undeniable strength.
"Good day, esteemed Duke of Alfheim."
Belials words were respectful. Her posture was not.
She did not bow.
Brazenly discourteous.
The Duke said nothing, but Gulian, who had accompanied him, stepped forward, prepared to rebuke heronly to be halted by a single lifted hand.
Contrary to the authority he exuded, Chloris Bright was not an elf bound by rigid decorum.
Moreover, his priority was securing the Thunder Dragon bones. He wasted no time on pleasantries.
"Name your price, lady."
Belial did not hesitate. She listed the materials she required.
A steward rushed to transcribe them.
They were rare, each one an object of great value. Yet the Duke, without the slightest hesitation, forged a contract.
To ensure its integrity, he chose **the highest-tier blood contract**, a binding spell of absolute enforcement.
The incantation stirred immense magical energy, rippling through the air in a vortex akin to a miniature tempest.
The force tore Belials hood from her head.
Her glasses slippedheld back only by their chain.
Swiftly, she replaced them, letting the gray lenses shield her from the suns glare**and conceal her crimson, slitted, vampiric eyes.**
Silence filled the chamber.
Even Chloris Bright, who had just sealed the contract, had gone still, staring at her with an unreadable expression.
Belial assumed it was her peculiar combination of **elven ears and blood-red pupils** that unsettled him. She quipped, "Does the Duke despise vampires?"
Chloris, studying her face**a face eerily similar to his late wifes**spoke a single syllable:
"No."