Chapter 40

Chapter 40: Whispers of the Demon

Before Yuren’s severed head could strike the floor, Ferda unleashed a magic projectile, blasting it into fragments.

Bang!

Pieces of the destroyed head scattered in every direction.

“Gah!”

Jed reflexively covered his face. Spitting to ensure nothing entered his mouth, he yelled at Ferda:

“Hey! Why did you suddenly blow the head apart like that?!”

Ferda wiped blood from his cheek with his thumb and calmly replied:

“One must be certain.”

“No, separating the head from the body kills them. Why did you have to confirm the death like that?”

“The demon isn’t the issue. It’s better than having people think the Regent suddenly possessed sword skills capable of decapitating someone, isn’t it?”

“Ah, fair point.”

Jed looked down at Yuren’s corpse. A distinct mark remained from a single precise stab and a clean cut. Far too martial for a 3rd Circle mage who supposedly fought haphazardly. Jed decided to mar the surface of the cut to disguise the injury as explosive damage.

“So…”

Having finished the preparations, Jed looked at Ferda with exasperation.

“Did you say you only needed the two eyes?”

“Did you really only bring the two eyes?”

Jed chuckled in disbelief and answered:

“Do you think I’m crazy enough to believe that literally?”

As expected of material fit for a master thief. A reliable operative who delivered results even with vague instructions.

“At any rate, you arrived later than expected.”

“Things got complicated. Avoiding watchful eyes while moving around, and then I got caught up in something unfortunate…”

Jed recalled the moment. His expression darkened briefly before turning into a grin.

“But meeting that guy made things safer and allowed me to wrap it up without loose ends.”

“Whom did you meet?”

“A fellow named Karl from the Cheokgyeoldan. The man the Regent put a collar on.”

Ferda let out a knowing “Ah” the moment he heard the name. Karl. The man around whose neck Ferda had placed a leash.

“Thanks to him, things went smoother. He’s currently posing as the acting warehouse manager.”

“I see.”

“More importantly, is your leg alright?”

Jed gestured toward Ferda’s leg with his chin. The bleeding had slowed, but blood still seeped out. Without waiting for an answer, Jed leaned down toward the wound.

“Let’s stop the bleeding first. We need to apply pressure with a bandage or something.”

“I have a handkerchief; I will handle it myself.”

Everything had to remain meticulous from start to finish. Thinking this, Ferda attempted to wrap the cloth around his own leg. He merely needed to tie and secure it, but the knot was poorly formed. Ferda was already weakened, and tying it securely while lightheaded from blood loss proved difficult.

“Give it here.”

Unable to watch, Jed pushed his hand aside and tied the cloth firmly over the wound.

“Let’s just say you stopped the bleeding with your last breath… What can’t someone do when standing at death’s door?”

“Yes, that will suffice.”

“Now what? Do I carry you out? Carrying extra cargo costs extra, though.”

Ferda shook his head.

“I would rather you complete the assigned task. Do you see that black-covered tome with silver chains over there?”

Where Ferda pointed, a single grimoire rested.

“Yes, I see it. I just have to take that?”

“There should be golden silk used for transporting Gamigin’s necromancy tome. Wrap that book in it and deliver it safely to the carriage we arrived in.”

Jed wrapped the Shadow Arts of Barbatos in the cloth he had brought. His gaze kept returning to Ferda’s injured leg.

“Will you truly be alright? Shouldn’t I call someone?”

“There is no need to worry.”

“No, you’ve lost so much blood. I’m concerned.”

“A person does not die from this.”

Jed scratched his head, deliberating. Ferda insisted he was fine, but the injury appeared severe enough that leaving him alone seemed reckless.

“Did you find the information?”

“Not yet. I heard the commotion down here first, so I came to handle this.”

“Then don’t waste time; go find it quickly.”

“Is that what’s important right now? The Regent is on the verge of collapsing…”

“Isn’t that the information you wanted so badly, the purpose to which you’ve dedicated your life?”

Flirting with wealthy matrons, running fraudulent gambling dens, extorting money from nobles—he had done it all for a singular objective. Jed had nothing left. The Red Eye Clan had been wiped out, and only his younger self had survived the slaughter. His last memory was of his younger sister being dragged away by strangers. With no family left, that trace of hope was everything to him.

“A contract is a contract. Fulfilling my end depended on you obtaining what you sought.”

…

Jed made a sour face, yet felt compelled to honor that resolute determination. Jed rose and spoke with complete sincerity:

“Don’t die.”

Jed departed. Even sprinting at full speed, not a single footstep could be heard.

‘Formidable from the very beginning.’

Admiring his skill, Ferda leaned back against the wall. He rested against the display case and caught his breath. His mana was entirely drained, his body anemic, his mind completely exhausted. Yuren’s entry into the sealed vault was officially logged; if he failed to exit within the designated window, emergency forces would deploy.

‘As for time… roughly twenty minutes?’

When every minute mattered, twenty minutes was an eternity. Particularly within a space like this. Ferda was weakened, and a weakened prey was nothing more than prime sustenance for predators. The sinister energy radiating from the cursed grimoires began reaching toward him.

— Would you like to play with me? — How about a contract with me? I will grant you the power to shatter the world. — Come here. I shall take you under my wing myself.

Ranging from childish tones to solemn declarations, the voices attempted to crawl across Ferda’s consciousness. To an untrained ear, they sounded like entities possessing immense or bizarre power. Ferda, however, knew better. These were nameless, minor demons. Their prices were abysmal, their conditions vile, and the power they offered equally worthless.

‘Do I truly have to listen to this garbage?’

Perhaps because of that contempt, even in this perilous situation, a yawn escaped him. The malice they harbored was insufficient to exploit Ferda’s condition. Shortly after, all the whispering voices abruptly ceased. It was not because they had retreated before Ferda’s mental fortitude; something of far greater standing was approaching.

‘It’s here.’

Darkness deepened across Ferda’s vision. The moment an instinctive dread took hold, a bone-chilling cold enveloped him. Soon after, an entity manifested before Ferda.

“Insolent mortal wretch.”

An elderly figure with blue skin and a long white beard. He glared at Ferda with milky, cataract-covered eyes. The Archdemon Marbas, who had forged a pact with Yuren.

“You dare lay hands on my newly acquired contractor? Do you understand the consequence of earning a demon’s grudge?”

Ferda looked at him and asked, “What does it mean?”

“The price for humiliating Marbas shall be paid in full! You will endure blistering skin and frozen veins within the lowest depths of the Frozen Hell for a million years!”

Marbas spat threats, then struck the ground with the staff supporting him. Hellish frost crept across the floor.

“I will grant you a single opportunity to make amends. Enter into a contract with me. Take the place of my fallen contractor. What say you?”

A contract with Ferda. That was the true motive behind his arrival and threats.

“I refuse.”

“Will you embrace my festering grudge? No one who enrages an Archdemon lives to speak of it.”

“Enraged, my foot.”

Ferda had already seen through his scheme.

“You merely wanted an excuse, so you contracted that trash to fabricate a grudge, did you not?”

A standard ploy demons utilized to lure valuable quarry: testing the target’s capacity while attempting to seduce the true subject of interest. Marbas, who had maintained a fierce demeanor, burst into laughter rather than shouting.

“Hehehe… you are no ordinary mortal. So you have no intention of contracting? I shall offer a special discount on the price.”

He spoke as if conducting a clearance sale.

“Certainly not.”

“What a pity. Claiming an exceptional soul like yours would have brought genuine delight. On the day you require my aid, you will pay a far steeper price.”

He departed with detached indifference for someone claiming to hold a grudge. Vision remained dim; no idle voices chattered. Something lurking within the darkness writhed and approached.

“The power you displayed was truly marvelous, Lord Ferda Valdrova.”

A sticky, viscous voice. Emerging from the shadows was a toad attired in a formal suit.

“My name is Morax. How about entering into a contract? I shall place power and dominion within your grasp. I will lend you everything needed to forge a grand Grand Duchy.”

The toad’s wide mouth curled into a sly grin.

“Of course, the price will be collected in due time.”

One of the Seven Archdemons, the Demon of Contracts and Equivalent Exchange: Morax. The demon who bestowed the greatest raw power, a remarkably tempting entity. Under his influence, even a weakling could become a Sword Master, and those devoid of magical talent could transform into Archmages in an instant. Yet the end invariably culminated in wretched tragedy.

‘That is the Curse of Morax.’

Ferda had witnessed such tragedies countless times. Thus, only a scoff remained on his lips.

“I know everything you intend to do. It’s tedious, so begone.”

“Hehehe… I shall withdraw for now, but the day will come when you invoke the name of Morax. I will be waiting.”

The toad gentleman tipped his hat and vanished back into his domain. Soon after, another presence revealed itself before Ferda.

“Hello, darling~”

A smooth, sultry voice whispered near his ear as she materialized. Blonde hair, blue eyes, an alluring figure. The spitting image of Olivia Arken. Yet she was not Olivia Arken, for her lower body was that of a serpent.

“What you showed today was quite impressive. I didn’t expect you to land such a blow against Marbas’s contractor.”

The Demon of Lust and Illusion: Sitri.

“I see.”

“Why such a bored expression? The greatest beauty of the Empire stands right before you. Am I not your type?”

She wound a lock of hair around slender fingers and smiled provocatively. A charm seductive enough to captivate almost any man. Yet not Ferda. Even gazing upon her pale form, at an age where impulses typically ran unchecked, only tranquility remained. Compared to Morax and Marbas, the power she offered was the least substantial.

“I suppose you truly aren’t interested. You mentioned you married a dragon, correct?”

“Yes.”

“If you cherish that dragon so much, what if you could have two?”

Ferda pondered for a brief moment, then looked at Sitri and replied:

“Let’s hear it.”

“Why do you think I can take the form of Olivia Arken? For an entity like me, this is child’s play.”

She smiled slyly and whispered:

“Does my darling… wish to behold the form of Valdrova?”

A fleeting desire stirred in Ferda. At that brief hesitation, he indulged Sitri’s overture.

“Take the form of Valdrova.”

“Hehe, handsome boy. Understood.”

Sitri covered her face with both hands. Following her movement, her appearance shifted. Her hair turned deep red, two pairs of horns emerged from her brow, and her eyes split into four golden-white pupils.

“How is this? My breathtaking visage?”

Sitri stood, recreating the Valdrova he envisioned. Ferda stared quietly at the form, then said:

“That is not her.”

Only disappointment showed on his face.

“What?”

“My fiancée does not have such a sharp expression. The outer corners of the eyes need to slant downward more.”

“Mm, like this?”

Sitri adjusted her facial features according to Ferda’s directions. Ferda examined the alteration and shook his head again.

“Not that. Softer eyes. And the lips are not that thick.”

“Wait a moment. Like this?”

“Why can’t you capture what I’m describing? Did I ask for something complicated?”

“Like this, then?”

They went back and forth for a considerable time, altering the Archdemon Sitri’s face repeatedly. After enduring the process, Sitri sprang up from her place. Deep revulsion filled her eyes.

“You deranged lunatic.”

“Why? If you get it right, I’ll form a contract! Just replicate exactly what I want. It isn’t difficult.”

“Get lost! Getting tangled up with a pervert like you will only ruin my future!”

Even Sitri, the Archdemon of Lust, vanished with a huff, completely fed up with the ordeal.

‘In the end, she cannot substitute for Valdrova.’

To be fair, Ferda had briefly indulged the thought, swaying slightly to the suggestion. He had considered that catching a glimpse of a stand-in might not be terrible when longing for her. Yet even a mimicry proved impossible through that demon.

‘I shouldn’t have entertained it.’

Due to Sitri’s inaccurate transformation, Valdrova’s true visage merely surfaced with sharper clarity in his mind. He missed her intensely, feeling a desolate ache.

‘Ah, my king.’

Ferda called out to her within his thoughts.

‘You cherish this world so deeply, yet the world constantly seeks to exploit you.’

Yuren had attacked Ferda specifically to incite Valdrova’s wrath. A scheme capable of destabilizing the entire empire could not have originated solely from Yuren’s petty grudge.

‘Do not worry.’

Ferda already knew who orchestrated the plot from the shadows. The lingering pain only hardened his resolve.

‘I will ensure they take full responsibility for all of this.’

Concealing the Empire’s dark mages within the capital’s underground, contracting Yuren to assassinate the Regent, ruthlessly unraveling the crumbling empire, praying solely for the demise of the entire imperial bloodline— a single, splendid flower blooming from the seed of disaster.

‘Olivia Arken.’

Just then, Ferda’s vision cleared completely, and his heightened senses settled back to their baseline. He heard hurried footsteps descending the stairs. Knights and mages mobilized for the emergency, without question.

“By the heavens, what on earth happened here?!” “That is… isn’t that Regent Valdrova?!” “Is he breathing?” “Yes, he’s breathing!” “Summon a priest immediately! It’s an emergency!” “Lord Regent! Can you hear my voice?!”

Loud and clear.

‘I suppose I can sleep now.’