A contract with a demon

"Come, sign a contract with me. I shall grant you endless knowledge, and in return, you need only surrender your useless soul after you die." Stavago smiled as he spoke, placing particular emphasis on after death.

Indeed, the demon Stavago wanted only their souls after death, a condition that was immensely tempting to humans.

The chances of returning from the dead were vanishingly small. Generally speaking, no one believed they could come back to life, however powerful magic might be. It was hard to say whether someone resurrected would even still be themselves.

So once a person died, they were dead. Keeping their soul served little purpose.

Moreover, Stavago had specifically stated that surrendering the knowledge within their souls would suffice. He would not torment their souls; that was an important condition in the contract.

So exchanging something they had no use for for something else that could help them enormously—wasn't that a fantastic bargain?

"Little Dean, the decision is yours. Will you sign the contract? Do you have the confidence to become stronger than Stavago?" Sanderson asked eagerly, for in a few years, his soul would belong to Stavago.

"Well... Mentor, do you think I have a chance?" Dean couldn't help asking. After all, he was only a fifteen-year-old boy, barely half-grown. Putting his own soul on the line took far too much courage, and Dean didn't seem to have much of that.

"Anything is possible. What I failed to accomplish in my youth isn't necessarily beyond your reach," Sanderson said.

"Hahaha, Fourth, you're quite right about that. Had you not failed back then, I might well have had to wait another eighty or a hundred years." As he spoke, Stavago stuck out a little tongue and ran it around his lips, as though he could hardly wait to taste Sanderson's soul.

Failed? Dean was puzzled. Had my mentor done something decades ago?

Seeming to understand Dean's confusion, Sanderson spoke without concern.

"Back then, I came within a hair's breadth of becoming a Sixth-Level Mage Mentor. Unfortunately, during a limb transplant, I made a small mistake that should never have happened. It ruptured my magic vortex and nearly shattered it," Sanderson said wistfully.

He nearly became a Sixth-Level Mage Mentor? Didn't that mean he'd been at the very pinnacle of Fifth-Level Grand Mage?

As far as Dean knew, the entire empire had only a handful of mage mentors protecting the royal family and the king.

Yet his own mentor had once been that powerful.

Could I reach those heights? Dean stood rooted to the spot, at a loss. Do I have the confidence to become a Sixth-Level Mage Mentor?

No. Dean could tell himself with certainty that, on his own, Fourth-Level Grand Mage would probably be his limit. Nor would he have the energy to research much else.

Perhaps if he lived a little longer, he might advance a little further at the level of fourth- or Fifth-Level Grand Mage, but that would be the end of it.

That was the reality for the vast majority of Mages, knights, and those of other professions.

Dean would, unsurprisingly, become one of them, then spend his days dealing with all sorts of people and things on the "same level."

Finally, he would be laid to rest in his seventies or eighties.

And my soul? First of all, it certainly wouldn't go to Heaven, because no such place existed. Naturally, there was no Hell, either.

As for the Divine Kingdom, that was where the gods' followers went, though even that remained unproven. And Mages, by and large, weren't followers of the gods at all.

So where would a soul ultimately go?

Dean didn't know. No one knew, so it hardly mattered—not even the supposed torment of souls, the pain they could be made to feel.

Come on, do people even retain their consciousness after death? If not, how could there be any pain?

"Little Dean, what mages pursue is knowledge—knowledge of every kind. Sadly, our human lives are limited, and so we cannot hold more of it," Sanderson said wistfully.

Indeed, knowledge was boundless. The more one learned, the less one realized one knew. The more one sought to understand the existence of something, the more other things emerged to prove what came before. Then what were those additional things, and how could one understand them?

"In truth, the demon Stavago has lived for thousands of years and already holds endless knowledge. Yet even that is only the tip of the iceberg. In this vast world, far too many unknown things remain beyond our understanding."

Dean listened in bewilderment, while Sanderson's words grew increasingly abstruse.

"Only one thing matters." Sanderson grew serious. "To us, the knowledge the demon Stavago offers is a treasure we spend our entire lives pursuing. So this is an opportunity—a pie falling straight from the sky."

Dean's eyes lit up. Put that way, isn't this like catching a white wolf with empty hands? Trading something I don't need, that so-called illusory soul, for the knowledge I would spend my whole life pursuing?

"I... I know what choice to make, Mentor." Dean bowed to Sanderson. "This is an opportunity. Just as seeking you out and asking to become your student changed my life, this is the same. I believe he will change my life, too."

Sanderson nodded in satisfaction. Though Dean would have to pledge his soul as collateral, this truly was a golden opportunity that came once in a thousand years.

This knowledge could set Dean on the path to power. Becoming a Sixth-Level Mage Mentor, or even an Eighth-Level Grand Mage Mentor or a Ninth-Level Holy Mage Mentor, might not be impossible.

If he happened to surpass the demon Stavago, he wouldn't have to surrender his soul. That would amount to receiving endless knowledge for free.

Of course, that was easy to say. Dean knew that even with endless knowledge, he would need time to digest it and make it his own. And on the path of magic, he would still have to put in all the effort and struggle required. It would merely spare him some detours.

"Honored Lord Stavago, I have a few final questions. Please allow me to ask them," Dean said humbly.

Apparently pleased, the little shadow puffed out his "chest," and even his voice rose a little. "Mm-hmm, no problem. Ask away."

Delighted, Dean hurriedly asked his questions.

"Will my mentor Sanderson's soul be eaten? Will I have a chance to rescue his soul in the future?" Dean felt rather apprehensive.

Perhaps part of the reason his mentor had recommended him so fervently was that he wanted his own soul rescued.

Beside him, Sanderson shuddered, his eyes fixed intently on Stavago.

Indeed, that was his greatest concern. Even knowing that his soul would have nothing to do with him once he surrendered it, it was still his own soul, after all. What if... what if there are terrible consequences?

"Hahaha, of course I'll eat it. Once I've extracted all its knowledge, I'll devour it.

"Don't forget, I am Lord Stavago, the soul-devouring demon! Hahahaha!" Stavago burst out laughing, as though he had heard something ridiculous.

"However, in light of your request, I can make a concession!" Stavago said to Dean in a voice full of temptation.

(End of chapter)