"The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep."

  Diodora Astaroth was the type of man who earned the Underworld its reputation as Hell. There was no worse King one could be bound to—an unhinged lunatic obsessed with capturing religious women, breaking them both physically and mentally, and turning them into mindless sex dolls for his twisted peerage. Then, the girls would be reincarnated as Devils and forced to slavishly pledge their loyalty to him.

  Kira didn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d fit his usual preferences, but apparently, she’d been snatched from some prestigious Catholic school. Would that be enough for her to meet his sick standards? I didn’t particularly care. Anyone who bought people for their peerage was a weirdo in my book, and I wasn’t about to wait around to find out how far Diodora would draw the line or exactly where she would end up.

  Unfortunately, whether I liked it or not, half of Devil society now knew who I was and what I was capable of. I was the chitchat of the town tonight, I couldn’t just waltz through the front door and hope they’d forget my face when all was said and done. No, I’d have to resort to more... traditional methods of killing.

  I wiped down my sword and slung it across my back. The blade was a massive two-handed longsword—nothing ornate, just a raw piece of metal I’d stolen years ago because I knew it would come in handy eventually. It didn’t need to be beautiful. It only needed to overpower anyone foolish enough to stand in my way without their own King piece.

  “Nyx,” Ajuka’s voice cut through the silence. His usual composure was absent.. “Are you planning on making this girl your bishop?”

  I paused, glancing over at him. It was rare to see him like this—unsettled.

  “Not particularly, no.”

  “Then why?” His brow furrowed slightly. “Why are you so fixated on this? I never took you for the heroic type.”

  I finished fastening the last strap of my light armor, feeling the familiar weight settle on my shoulders as the small plates of steel came into place. “If I said it just sounded fun, would you punch me in the face?”

  “What?”

  I shrugged, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know. I just feel like if I don’t do something, I’ll regret it later. It’d be a shame if we crossed paths again and she was... broken. A puppet with nothing left inside. I’d feel like I missed my shot at making a difference. Didn’t take many risks in my last life… might as well start now, since you’re not going to kill me.”

  Ajuka stared at me like I had just gifted him a migraine. “I’ll chalk it up to suicidal hyperfixation,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But for your own sake, keep it discreet. You know I’ll back you where I can, but don’t come back crying to me if you scrape your knees. I can’t afford to throw my weight around right now.”

  “Is that your way of telling me not to scream your name if I accidentally kill one of your family members?”

  I said it with a smirk, half-joking, but there was a bitter edge to it. On one hand, it felt good to say it aloud and not get my head smashed in for it. On the other hand, I had to remember that Ajuka still didn’t know his own family was part of the conspiracy to overthrow the new government—and possibly kill him—by shoving magical snakes up their asses. So I was being a bit of an asshole, which wasn’t exactly out of character, but I really needed to pull myself together, even if I wanted nothing more than to turn Diodora into nutritional paste for the homunculi.

  “Look, for what it’s worth, I promise I’ll try not to kill your family.”

  Ajuka groaned, rubbing his temples, and turned toward the door. “Please, just don’t get captured. If things go sideways, find a place to send me a message and I’ll try to teleport you out.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  ?

  The auction building looked more like an embassy than a den of illegal dealings—small, palace-like in a modern sense. It wasn’t as grand or archaic as the medieval estates of the pure-blooded lords, but it had the same air of entitlement, a place designed to host lavish meetings and extravagant parties without a shred of humility. I’d expected a house of slavery to be more... hidden. Maybe some underground hole or a secluded facility at the limits of the Underworld, where masked figures exchanged whispers in the dark, far from the eyes of the Satans.

  But tonight was different. It was a night of prideful celebration. They weren’t trying to hide anything—in fact, they were boasting about it. Lights and music bled from the building, announcing the festivities to anyone who passed by. The whole thing was on display, as if they wanted the world to know what was happening behind those doors.

  I had to remind myself that my understanding of this world had been colored by the few decent Kings I knew. Of course, in a society where power dictated your worth, humans were little more than commodities, traded and sold like livestock the moment they swore their lives to the wrong Devil.

  Their arrogance, however, did offer one advantage. If an organization this large had taken their security seriously, I’d never have been able to sneak in unnoticed. But the more you invest in magical protections, the higher the risk of accidentally harming a clumsy guests who’d wandered off into the garden. And in the Underworld, taking too many precautions was as disgraceful as taking none. A desperate businessman might cover his back, but not so much that he appeared fearful or weak.

  Judging by the weak charms I found while jumping the fence and crossing the back garden, whoever was running tonight’s little affair was betting his soul that nothing would go wrong. No, it felt more as if they just needed this night to work out smoothly, no matter what. That was probably why they’d moved their little party to just hours after we were promoted, they couldn’t afford to waste the free publicity for even a moment.

  Upon reaching the building, the only thing standing between me and the entrance to the basement was a bulky guard, built like a gorilla on steroids. He was blocking the way, but I didn’t bother thinking twice. I leaned into my vampiric physiology, blending effortlessly into the cold shadows around me. By the time he noticed me, it was too late—his eyes barely had time to widen before my heavy blade severed his head in one clean swing.

  I dealt with the remains, making sure they vanished before they even touched the ground. Bones always left a disgusting aftertaste, like biting into chalk, but when you’re a bloodfiend, some things are just part of the job. The advantages always outweighed the inconveniences, so I couldn’t complain too much.

  As I moved into the building, I was surprised by how empty it felt. Given my understanding, I’d expected Kira alone to be worth a small fortune. Surely, they would’ve stationed at least a dozen guards to safeguard their precious "goods." Yet, there was only silence. It was unsettling, like the air had been sucked out of the place, leaving nothing but hollow silence.

  I continued down the basement corridors, opening door after door. Crates, boxes, and sacks lined the walls, packed with various weapons, trinkets, and other items, both magical and mundane. But no people. Not a single human soul.

  It wasn’t until I reached the deepest part of the hideout that I finally encountered a bit more resistance. A lone figure sat at the end of a narrow corridor, stationed right in front of a small, white door. The moment I stepped into his line of sight, our eyes locked in the dark. Neither of us moved at first. Then, he made his move, raising a hand toward his ear, clearly reaching to trigger some sort of communication spell.

  I couldn’t afford to take any chances.

  Channeling the blood I'd just consumed, I unleashed a stream of crimson pressure. It shot from my fingertips like a bullet, slicing through his skull and tearing a hole through the door behind him. His body slumped forward before he could force out a word.

  Growing impatient and even more angry, I kicked the corpse to the side and pushed through the door. Inside, the room was almost empty, save for a single stone chest at the center of the floor. Not what I had been looking for—but at this point, curiosity pulled at me. I had to know what in hell could be so valuable. I pushed the heavy lid open, and a wave of disgust immediately washed over me.

  Inside was a sword—a holy blade. Not just any sword, but a fragment of Excalibur. Its presence alone felt like a toxic weight released into the air, radiating with the kind of power that could kill most Devils in a single strike.

  This was exactly what I had been searching for. With a weapon like this as a catalyst, I could summon a Queen strong enough to carve my path forward, even if my attempts to claim Ddraig ultimately failed.

  But if I took it, I probably wouldn’t have enough time to find where they were keeping the girl before someone noticed its absence.

  My gaze lingered on the chest itself, where I could feel a teleportation crest engraved into the stone—similar to the one on the card I’d received from Lucifer. They were likely planning to teleport these items onto the auction stage once the bidding began. Using magic instead of muscle was always a good way of showing your standing.

  A fragment of Excalibur... that had to be saved for the grand finale, right? Maybe pair it up with the girl to try and make someone believe she’s holy?

  Standing there, I felt like a greedy child in a candy store. Sneaking into a human trafficking den was reckless enough, but trying to walk out with both Kira and a fragment of Excalibur? It was beyond suicidal. There was no way this could end well. The sword was basically a beacon of dread for Devils, other people would be able to tell I had it even if I were to shove it up my ass.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  But even knowing that, I couldn’t just leave it there. I couldn’t close the lid and leave it behind. I tried—I really tried to walk away, to be reasonable—but it didn’t work. Instead, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and forced myself to think.

  What was my next move?

  ?

  Sirzechs placed his cards down, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Watch them and weep, old friend.”

  Ajuka had lost the last four rounds in a row, and it was beginning to show. His patience thinned as he stared at the cards in his hand. “You’re cheating, aren’t you?”

  That earned a deep, genuine laugh from Sirzechs. “Come on now! You’re not exactly playing with your best poker face tonight.” He leaned back, casually folding his arms behind his head. “What’s really eating at you? Are you that worried about him?”

  “I’m more concerned about what he’s going to do. Maybe I pushed him too far,” Ajuka muttered. “Maybe I should’ve waited another decade.”

  Sirzechs waved a dismissive hand. “The kid won’t do anything to get you in trouble. In fact, he told me you’re like a big brother to him.”

  Ajuka raised an eyebrow, unamused. “You’re bluffing too much tonight.”

  “Maybe,” Sirzechs admitted. “But that’s the feeling I got. Besides, worst case, you can always just buy the girl for him. What’s the damage? Ten million?”

  Ajuka groaned, shaking his head in exasperation. “That’s exactly the issue! He doesn’t want me to step in. If Nyx had his way, I wouldn’t even know what he’s doing until it was all over, no matter what it is. Would it kill him to ask for help for once?”

  “Well, yeah,” Sirzechs said with a nonchalant shrug. “Where’s the fun if someone else is always cleaning up after you? Rias is the same way. She wouldn’t call me for help unless the sky was literally falling apart. And even then, she’d probably have to think about it.”

  Ajuka emptied his glass in a single gulp, the sound of it hitting the table a little harder than intended. “And the worst part? He thinks I’m some sort of imbecile. I ask him about this girl, whether he’s interested on her, and he just denies it! Says he’s just doing it for the thrill of it, like he’s suddenly just an idiot looking for justice.”

  Sirzechs burst into laughter again, wiping at his eyes as he tried to regain his composure. “And that’s what’s bothering you? That he won’t open up about his feelings? You wanted him to introduce you to his first sweetheart?”

  “Of course it bothers me! He’s deluding himself. How can someone so brilliant, capable of manipulating the highest levels of magic, be so utterly clueless about his own emotions? He really believes the bullshit he tells me!”

  Sirzechs shook his head, still chuckling softly as he shuffled the cards. “Yeah… imagine that. A genius, completely blind to the most obvious things.”

  Ajuka crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair.

  “Relax,” Sirzechs said, his tone softening. “Nyx will ask for your help when he’s ready. He’s still just a kid after all, trying to earn out his place at the big table. And I know a thing or two about trying to compete with someone like you. So, let me go ahead and just say it—he’ll never be happy until he earns your respect.”

  “He has my respect! He always had my respect!”

  “Are you even listening to me, old man?! You can’t just hand it to him!”

  “Then what am I—”

  Before the conversation could escalate further, the air around them rippled. A sharp pulse of magic filled the room as a powerful presence teleported in—something that should have been impossible in the home of a Satan, much less into the very same room where two were sitting in.

  Both Devils turned, their gazes drawn to Ajuka's desk where a heavy metallic object had landed with a thud, clattering briefly before coming to a rest on the floor. A holy sword, broad and menacing, its blade lined with spikes and a diamond-shaped gap running through it—Excalibur Rapidly.

  Sirzechs blinked in disbelief. "Did... Did the kid just steal a fragment of Excalibur?"

  Ignoring his friend’s words entirely, Ajuka approached the desk, crouching down to examine the blade. His eyes narrowed as he noticed an inscription—written in blood along the length of the sword.

  “Please send me a replica of this item. Thanks.”

  Sirzechs leaned forward, curiosity written across his face. “What does it say?”

  Ajuka’s jaw tightened as he read the message again. He exhaled sharply. "That he thinks I’m a printer."

  ?

  Thankfully, Ajuka had been at home. My request didn’t take more than a few minutes to fulfill, and soon enough, the replica was back in my hands. Its aura was a pale imitation of the original—much weaker, barely even noticeable. But in every other aspect, it was a near perfect copy. I ran my fingers along the blade, feeling its cold, lifeless steel before placing it inside the chest. With a quiet click, I sealed it shut. If all went as planned, no one would ever know the difference until it was too late. It wasn’t like many Devils had ever laid eyes on a fragment of Excalibur, after all.

  Next came the cleanup. The second guard needed to be dealt with, and leaving a mess behind wasn’t an option. I knelt beside the body, forcing most of his spilled blood back into his skin—an unpleasant but necessary task. My hunger still gnawed at me, but after tearing apart the first guard, I found myself sickened, stomach churning with something close to... indigestion.

  Maybe it was the taste. Or maybe they were smokers. That always ruined the meat.

  I patched the wound on his head with fresh skin, propping him back up in his seat, making sure everything looked as normal as possible.

  Now it was time for me to blend in. But I needed a new look—something more… elegant for the occasion.

  I discarded the oversized sword and ditched the dark attire. Stepping out from the basement, and slipped back into the party through the inner entrance. The shift was clear—dirty, silent corridors gave way to the lively hum of chatter and music. I kept my head down, sticking to myself, eyes scanning for someone useful.

  It didn’t take long to spot a hurried servant weaving through the crowd. I intercepted the

  man and casually asked about the bathrooms. Once there, like a spider lying in wait, I positioned myself just behind the door, my senses waiting to the next isolated victim.

  Moments later, my opportunity arrived—a short, plump Devil, finely dressed and clearly out of place. Before he could make a sound, I seized him by the throat, forcefully turning his gaze toward the corner, making sure he saw nothing of me.

  “Who are you?” I whispered, my voice low and threatening. “Don’t struggle. I’m not here to kill you. I just want answers.”

  He trembled, barely coherent. “M-M-My… I-I a…”

  “Your name. Your house. Why are you here?”

  “Emir Grosken, sir!” he stammered. “I’m here for the auction, by order of Lord Astaroth!”

  “Astaroth?” I repeated. “Why would he send a pig to run his errands?”

  “There’s a… there’s a number of us!” Emir babbled in fear. “We place bids on anything he wants to intimidate the competition. Sometimes we get his leftovers!”

  “Leftovers?” I echoed, tightening my grip until he whined.

  “The ones he doesn’t want! The girls he doesn’t like!” Emir gasped, his panic rising. “I’m just the messenger, please! I’m just a friend of the auctioneer, I don’t wanna be here!”

  I had to let out a heavy sigh. “I was really hoping to let you live, man. Shame.”

  With a sharp twist, his neck snapped, and Emir’s body slumped—nothing more than a lifeless sack of flesh, ready for me to mold. I ran most of it down the drain, only keeping enough for the magic I needed. After making sure the door was securely locked, I moved to the mirror, painting strokes of red across my face before reshaping it bit by bit. My reflection slowly morphed into that of a short, balding noble. Not the most flattering look, but it would do.

  The things I do for others.

  I stepped back into the grand hall, uncomfortably stuffed into my new skin. Nobles ran around, some taller, others shorter, varying degrees of smugness painted on their faces. They all looked the same to me—pretentious assholes, faking smiles as they laughed at absolutely nothing. Still, I had to blend in.

  After a minute of wandering, the crowd began to shift toward the auditorium, and I spotted my target. A man waved me over, flashing a too-wide smile and motioning to the seat beside him. It was obvious—this had to be one of Emir’s contacts. I took my place in the front row, half a row of the eyes watching me. Probably all Astaroth’s bidders.

  The first Devil to speak was tall and pale, his beard reaching down to his waist. He smirked as he leaned over. “By hell, Grosken! We were starting to think you’d fled. Take another trip like that and by the time you’re back Simon might actually find himself a wife!”

  “My apologies, gentlemen,” I muttered, slumping into my seat. I pulled out a handkerchief, swiping at my forehead. “I simple have no interest in parlay. You all know why I’m here tonight.”

  “Yes, yes, we’ve heard it a thousand times. You like the brown one,” another noble growled, looking impossibly bored. “Lord Astaroth isn’t going to let you put your filthy paws anywhere near his High Class meat. We should just bid on everything else and let you chase your fantasies. With any luck, he’ll be too distracted with the girl to remember where we spent his money.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” the first man continued, his voice thick with mockery. “The auctioneer might claim the girl’s from the church to boost her price, but no one really buys that. I bet he’ll take one look at her face and toss her aside. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Across from them, an older woman with silver hair, clad in a pristine white Victorian dress, smirked. “Oh, that swine and his obsession with the holy. Though I can’t say I blame him… There’s something so satisfying about taking the little sheep from the flock and fattening them with sin until they’re ripe and juicy.”

  Every time I think the things I do are disgusting, there’s always some Devil around to make me feel like a fucking superhero.

  The bidding began sluggishly, relics from forgotten civilizations paraded across the stage. A few might hold traces of magic, but unless you were desperate or deranged, they were nothing more than trinkets for collectors with more money than sense. Meanwhile, the nobles around me stuffed their faces, rambling on about the quality of their chimeras' fur or name-dropping whoever would get them a moment of interest.

  The only useful thing I managed to learn was that Diodora had been reducing his public appearances more and more over the past few months, to the point where seeing his face had become quite rare. Everyone there had their own theories as to why, a series of short, little fanfictions about their master finally finding love on the arms of some curvy nun.

  It was getting unbearable. I needed to do something—anything. I’d rather try my luck killing them all than spend the entire night around those animals.

  “Do… any of you think we could get a preview of the goods?” I said, barely managing to sound casual. “Everyone already knows the girl is coming with us one way or another. A quick glance wouldn’t hurt too much.”

  “Oh my… Someone’s feeling bold tonight,” the woman, Liria, purred with a chuckle that sent a shiver down my spine. “But I wouldn’t get my hopes up, darling. Good humans are a rare treat, and everyone knows your pockets are a bit… shallow this year. Be a good boy and wait your turn. If you’re lucky, I’ll even step aside and let you have the first lick.”

  I had to suppress the urge to gag, every word that left her lips more revolting than the last. Fortunately, my comment seemed to spark something, and soon enough, the energy shifted, just as the function was starting to pick up.

  The bearded man next to me leaned closer, whispering under his breath. “I’m getting bored. Follow my lead.”

  He rose to his feet, stretching dramatically and blocking the view of everyone seated behind us. “Maybe Emir had the right idea. If the whole catalogue’s going to be this dull, I might as well get through it drunk. What do you say, friend? Surely we can find you a maid worth your while.”

  I groaned, struggling to stand in the disgusting disguise. “Might as well. The best of the night’s already gone.”

  Liria rolled her eyes, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Please, do not stick your dicks on anything you can’t pay for. Diodora may be rich, but he isn’t fucking stupid, he already knows we’re taking a cut and he won’t be away forever.”

  Her words fell on deaf ears as we ignored her complaints and stretched our legs, moving through the room. I had no idea what my newfound "friend" was up to, but in the worst case, I could always take care of him and keep going alone. Still, I followed for now. Wherever he was heading, it didn’t seem like the kitchen, and I was running short on good ideas anyway.

  He finally spoke as we walked up the spiraling staircase. “Do you remember last winter, old friend? When you helped me smuggle that bottle of Mesopotamian wine inside my trousers?”

  I hadn’t the slightest clue what he was talking about, but bluffing felt safer than asking.

  “I still wish I could forget, but you’ll never let me, will you?” I grunted.

  He barked a laugh. “Ha! Cheer up. I’m about to repay that little favor.”

  We reached the center of the circular upper floor, where a set of ornate double doors loomed ahead—elegant and imposing, the kind you’d expect to lead to a presidential suite or the personal office of someone far too important. Without breaking stride, he pulled a heavy, metallic key from his coat, flashing a sly grin.

  “Agravos gave me this,” he murmured, conspiratorial. “I wasn’t supposed to share, but I doubt anyone’s as eager as you are tonight. I’m sure the auctioneer won’t mind.” He slid the key into the lock, and the soft click of a magical seal being undone echoed through the hall. “Just remember—above the waist. And nothing that can’t be healed, we don’t want them to find out.”

  My mouth stayed shut as I took a deep breath. No sense in speaking now. The door swung open, revealing a room that dripped opulence and unsettling calm. It was exactly as I imagined—pristine, elegant. At the center of the room, a massive bed rested on an intricately woven carpet, its posts framing a canopy of pure-white silk, embroidered with delicate patterns like something from a twisted fairytale.

  But the air turned colder. My gut twisted as my eyes fell on the figures in the bed. Kira’s scent hit me first—familiar and sickening in this setting. But that was the only thing I could recognize.

  Right as we stepped inside, a large, round man rose from the bed half-naked. He wiped his knuckles with a rag, smearing the blood as it dripped onto the floor.

  “Agravos, you old rat!” he boomed, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Hiding up here instead of running your own event?”

  “Ahhh… just working up a good sweat!”

  The auctioneer and my companion greeted each other with the ease of old friends, their arms locking in a tight hug as my vision narrowed. Their voices became distant echoes as I walked past them, drawn towards the bed.

  The dress that clung to her body was layered and extravagant, something fit for a bride or a high noblewoman—not for her. Chains stretched from the bedposts to her limbs, biting into the wood as if they'd been there far too long, and pulled far too tight.

  And then, I saw the face—or what was left of it. Her features were gone, obliterated into a grotesque mask of swollen, bruised flesh, a pounded mass of coagulated blood where a face should have been.

  “Emir? Emir… Emir!” A voice sliced through the haze, muffled, distant, as if I were standing deep underwater. “By the flames of hell, are you just going to stand there? Well, don’t mind if I—”

  I don’t remember exactly how he died. I wasn’t really paying attention. All I know is that the moment his knee touched the bed, something snapped. His body twisted violently, inside-out. He fell to the floor, rolling like a featherless chicken, his skin and organs a grotesque tangle.

  After that… someone started the fire.

  So much fire.

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