You? Want to Sign a Contract with Me?

There was a demon here. No, this place was connected to a demon. Dean felt a little panicked.

What were demons? Brutal, vicious, terrifying—it seemed every vile word in the world could be used to describe them. Even their most notable virtue, keeping their word, only held true under absolutely perfect conditions.

Yes, the conditions had to be absolutely perfect. Demons always found a few loopholes in advance, cleverly skirting their promises while technically honoring them. That way, they could never be accused of breaking their word.

Dean was only a Level-One Magic Apprentice. Even a level-three Mage might not have remained as calm as Sanderson.

And from what his mentor had said, Dean had a bad feeling. Surely this demon wasn't damned powerful?

As it turned out, Dean's instincts were right.

After introducing the demon connected to this spatial node, Sanderson cut his finger with a small knife.

Before long, Sanderson had drawn a small magic circle on the stone slab. Dean could sense that it contained more than blood. There was mana in it, too—an immense amount of mana.

Suddenly, a flash of light shone across Dean's face. It came from a crystal-clear stone—a mana crystal containing an enormous amount of mana.

Even a fingernail-sized mana crystal of the poorest quality fetched over ten gold coins on the market. The glittering crystal in Sanderson's hand was nearly the size of a fist.

How much was that worth? Dean, who had never seen a mana crystal before, couldn't tear his eyes away. His breathing even quickened as he stared at the enormous crystal.

But before Dean could marvel at how wealthy his mentor was, the entire crystal was drained, all its mana pouring into the magic circle.

The enormous mana crystal became a transparent stone.

Sanderson paid no mind to the expenditure. Once the magic circle had enough mana, he tossed the depleted crystal aside.

With a crack, the drained mana crystal shattered into fragments across the ground.

Then Sanderson began chanting an incantation. Yet no matter how closely Dean listened, all he could hear was a buzzing noise. He couldn't make out a single word, or even a single sound.

What language was this? I can't even make out the sounds, let alone understand what they mean.

Soon, however, Dean's attention shifted away from the incantation. As Sanderson chanted, the entire stone slab turned vivid red, while the circle drawn in blood turned black—a dull, lightless black.

Too many unbelievable things had happened today. Dean was struggling to take it all in.

Who am I? Where am I? What am I looking at?

Could this be a dream? Dean couldn't help wondering whether the Guild assignment he had undertaken two days earlier had exhausted him so much that he was still asleep... Well, that was impossible.

The sky darkened as black clouds gathered, and the rumbling within them grew louder and louder.

Thunder and rain?

No, there was only thunder. But that was strange enough. How could dark clouds gather so quickly for no reason?

"Hmph!"

A muffled snort rang out. In an instant, the dark clouds overhead shattered before they could finish gathering, then vanished as though nothing had happened.

"Hahaha! A paltry little seal from the Thunder God dares strike at a great demon?" Laughter rang out, laden with mockery.

Who was the Thunder God? Dean didn't know. He genuinely had no idea. There were far too many gods in the world—gods of wind, gods of rain, gods of flowers, gods of birds.

They were all minor gods, classified as lesser false gods. More importantly, they were exceptionally weak—compared to true gods, of course.

As far as Dean knew, ninth-level Archmages could injure these lesser false gods. Magic Era, the history book every Mage carried, even recorded several instances of Archmages hunting and killing lesser false gods.

Yes, that was right. The Mage organizations of the time had taken a particular interest in these lesser false gods. They were numerous, not outrageously powerful, and far from united, so the hunt for false gods had begun.

It was then that human Mages... No, not just Mages. Every human profession had made a lasting impression on the other races.

It was best not to provoke humans. They were a bunch of beings even crazier than the gods.

That was all Dean knew. So even if the Thunder God was a high-ranking god, however mighty he might be, his name stirred nothing in Dean.

"Hmph! Fourth Generation? It's only been thirty-odd years. What business do you have with the great Stavago?" After the laughter faded, a figure appeared on the stone slab, though it was no more than a tiny shadow.

"Oh! That damned Thunder God! Every time I project myself into your world, he leaves me battered all over." As he spoke, the little shadow scratched at his body.

Unless Dean was mistaken, the shadow had extended long, jointed limbs and was scraping them up and down. Was he scratching himself?

It certainly seemed so. Before long, the little shadow had scraped off a shower of even smaller shadowy fragments, which dissipated in the air.

"Esteemed Lord Stavago, I have brought my new student here today. I hope he can inherit the arrangement between us." As he spoke, Sanderson bowed to the little shadow.

"Oh? Fourth Generation, you once told me you intended to end this arrangement with your generation. Hehehe. To think the stubborn Fourth Generation would seek to save himself after all. Or could it be..." The little shadow, Stavago, clicked his tongue in wonder.

"Little Dean, this is the secret I mentioned: signing a contract with a high-ranking demon from the Demon Abyss World." Sanderson paused, looking at Dean with a mixture of reluctance and hope.

"I am the fourth generation, and my mentor was the third. Since the first generation, we have been trading with the demon Stavago—trading knowledge," Sanderson told Dean.

"Fourth Generation, you should say Lord Stavago. Show me some respect. I am the one who brought you endless knowledge." The little shadow raised two dark shapes, presumably his arms, and waved them to emphasize that he deserved to be called "Lord."

"Mentor, what's the price?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"Our souls. After we die, we must surrender our souls. That is how the demon Stavago has acquired his endless knowledge."

"Is there any way to avoid surrendering your soul?" Dean felt a little frightened. Surrender his soul? No, no one could do that lightly.

"There is. You could keep living until Stavago dies. Then you wouldn't have to surrender your soul," Sanderson said.

"Uh, is there another method that's better suited to humans?" Dean shook his head. Outlive a demon? What a joke. Barring any mishaps, a high-ranking demon could easily live seven or eight thousand years, rivaling a dragon. A human? Living three to five hundred years was already an exceptionally long life.

"Little one, do you want to sign a contract with me?" Stavago cut Sanderson off. He was already growing impatient.

(End of chapter)