Azazel had mentioned, almost casually, that he had been banished from reality. Luke still didn’t fully grasp what that truly meant, even though the demon had insisted he wasn’t trying to be cryptic. Curiosity gnawed at him, but Luke held his questions back.

“I fixed the kukris you gave me that day,” Luke said, drawing them from their sheaths.

“The artifact that turns weapons into Spirit Tools did excellent work. When I learned the gift I gave you had broken, I wanted to at least give you the chance to let that pair fulfill its purpose and follow you through all your future journeys,” Azazel replied.

Luke glanced toward where the Demon Blacksmith had been standing earlier.

“There’s another demon here. What exactly do you want me to do in this place? I have no interest in joining his order or becoming a blacksmith.”

“And what do you want to do?” the demon asked in return. “Did you find what I told you to look for?”

Now that was a riddle, and Luke recognized it instantly.

“I did. It might not be what you expected, but it’s something that caught my interest. The wraith-demon clan forged a kind of weapon shaped like a beast.”

“A second core,” Azazel said. “There are ways to obtain a second core of power. Just as beasts can gain a humanoid form by awakening a soul core, it’s possible for a humanoid to acquire a beast core of their own. It’s a dangerous process, but if it succeeds… many Paths can open.”

Luke nodded. At least his deductions weren’t baseless.

“Between inheriting the legacy of becoming a blacksmith and creating a beast core, I choose the second,” Luke said.

He had no desire to become a blacksmith or join the Demon Blacksmith’s order, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in learning how such a weapon could be created.

“What do you think of my choice?”

“That depends on whether the Demon Blacksmith will tell you how, my child.”

“Gods want to establish an order in my universe. I was prepared to make an offer to the demon here, but then I had the chance to speak with you instead,” Luke said.

Azazel glanced at the chalice. “I was wondering whether you’d summon me or Samael.”

“So you knew I could set foot here. You knew from the start what I might find in this dimensional rift. Does the Demon Blacksmith serve you?”

“Not directly,” Azazel answered. “But understand this, this conversation isn’t an official one. I almost sent Samael in my place, but… it felt like I’d be an absent father if I did.”

Azazel pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Luke. “This will allow us to have our conversation properly, in my realm. For today, I’ll remain here mostly as an observer.”

Luke looked down. It was a dark invitation, blank and unmarked. He slipped it into his pocket, especially since Artemis wasn’t around, to store it in his pocket dimension.

“I’ll let things unfold as they should. Go on and follow your plan,” Azazel said, snapping his fingers.

The darkness of the chamber began to pull toward him, flowing into his body as the demon altered his own form. The towering three-meter figure shrank, compressing down to human size. The black skin vanished, as did the four eyes. Azazel became human in appearance. Two yellow eyes remained, and his horns adjusted to match the new shape. He reminded Luke of a movie star he had once seen on screen, though he couldn’t remember which.

“Now we match,” Azazel said.

The darkness dispersed. Luke felt time resume its flow, even the air returning to his lungs. The Demon Blacksmith, frozen until now, began to move once more.

***

Vaelor was staring at the Yellow-Eyed Darkness, unable to tell how this situation would end. Just as he considered speaking, everything changed. The darkness vanished. Standing before him now was a humanoid figure beside the young demon.

What just happened?

One moment reality had been one way, the next it had rewritten itself.

“Demon Blacksmith, I believe our first contact didn’t go very well. I came here to negotiate,” the young demon said calmly.

But Vaelor’s attention was locked on the other figure. Humanoid in shape, horns rising from his head, yellow eyes burning with quiet authority.

“Great Primordial of Darkness,” Vaelor said, dropping to one knee. “It is an honor to stand in your presence.”

“All right, all right,” the Primordial replied dismissively. “I’m not here in any official capacity. Still, I’m pleased you recognized me.”

“But of course. Since I was a mere wraith, I’ve heard stories of your deeds. Of how, when you began your conquest in the Universe of Fallen Stars, even—”

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“I see you’re a historian,” the Primordial interrupted. “But some of my stories, I’d rather tell myself. Especially to the young demon standing here with us.”

Vaelor’s gaze shifted to the young demon, who once again showed open irreverence by remaining standing in the Primordial’s presence.

What is actually happening here? How did this young demon draw the Primordial’s attention? And why did he call him son?

Vaelor had not been erased simply by standing before the Primordial of Darkness. That alone meant something. Even if insignificant, his existence was being acknowledged, at least for now.

“This young demon wishes to continue the conversation I interrupted,” the Primordial said. “Ignore my presence. I want to see how this unfolds between the two of you.”

Ignore his presence? Ignore the presence of the Great Primordial of Darkness?

Vaelor had no idea what was happening anymore.

“Demons like making deals,” the young demon said. “So I want to make one with you.”

I don’t understand this situation at all. But I’m being watched by the Primordial of Darkness himself while negotiating a contract. Should I be ruthless? Or cautious? Is this a test? Is he evaluating me?

Vaelor was Rank S. A god. Perhaps that was exactly what this was.

“There is nothing you can offer me that I desire,” Vaelor said firmly. “A deal must benefit both sides. And you have offered me nothing.”

It was a standard tactic. Undermine the other party’s confidence, force them to overextend, to give more and more just to close the deal.

“And there’s nothing you can offer me that would truly matter either,” the young demon replied sharply. “After all, the presence of the Primordial of Darkness alone is more than enough for me. Unless it isn’t for you.”

What?!

Vaelor froze.

He struggled to form his next words without sounding disrespectful. How could he claim to have something valuable to offer when the other demon was openly comparing him to the Primordial himself?

“I already got what I wanted,” the young demon said. “The Primordial of Darkness came personally and spoke with me. I’m leaving now. I’ll find a way to make use of what you gave me.”

He turned slightly toward the Primordial.

“That’s fine,” the Primordial replied. “Leave this rift and you’ll be able to find me in my realm.”

The young demon began walking toward the exit.

Vaelor realized what was about to happen. The young demon would leave, the Primordial would vanish, and he would be left behind with nothing but questions. No understanding of how or why the Primordial had appeared here at all. The one chance, among all gods, to stand before a Primordial was slipping right through his fingers.

“Wait. Wait,” Vaelor said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Let’s return to the matter of the agreement…”

The young demon turned back. “He said that once I leave this rift, I can visit his realm. After hearing that, I think anyone would find a way to get there as fast as possible.”

That single sentence killed any argument Vaelor could have made.

He’s right. I’d do the same.

Still, Vaelor had no intention of letting this opportunity vanish so easily.

“I’m seeing two demons trying to outmaneuver each other,” the Primordial said with a faint chuckle. “It reminds me of old stories. May I have a moment of your attention, Vaelor Vath’Ironak?”

Vaelor froze. The Primordial of Darkness had spoken his name. A true honor, one no conquered realm under his banner could ever grant.

“Primordial of Darkness, I am not worthy of such an honor.”

“I will remain neutral in this agreement, Vaelor,” the Primordial said calmly. “I want to see how the young demon handles this. If you wish to impress me, don’t hold back. Be harsh in your negotiations and accept his proposal only if it truly benefits you. What do you think? And one more thing. If you go easy on him on purpose… I will know.”

The final words carried weight. Vaelor turned to the young demon, eyes narrowing. He would be ruthless.

“First of all, what is your name, little demon?” Vaelor asked.

“Luke Moon.”

“I don’t recognize your clan, but I can tell you’re from a newly integrated universe. Still a mere Rank E, yet you’re standing here, speaking not to one god, but to two, and one of them a Primordial,” Vaelor said as he paced, studying every micro-expression on the young demon’s face.

“I may be a ‘mere Rank E,’ as you put it,” Luke Moon replied smoothly, “but small as I am compared to you, I’ve spoken with a Primordial. And you? When you were Rank E, did you accomplish the same? Or did you never manage that, even after becoming a god?”

Once again, Vaelor found himself speechless.

“And what is your name?” Luke asked.

“Vaelor Vath’Ironak. The Demon Blacksmith. The Living Haunt. A Demon Lord.”

“And you already know what I want, Vaelor.”

“You want my method for creating a Second Core,” Vaelor said, pride creeping into his voice. “One capable of birthing a Spectral Beast. An extremely valuable secret. I know many other methods as well, but you wouldn’t want those. Mine is special.”

“What makes yours special?” Luke asked, still playing the game of words.

“Mine is not hybridization,” Vaelor answered. “Creating a second core is dangerous. Most never attempt it because the risk of death is high. Failure can turn one into a monster or alter their race entirely. Even so, it’s far safer to tame a beast than to merge with one.”

Vaelor had seen many in the past who sought greater power. Some tried to become undead, liches and similar abominations. Others chose the path of the beast. There were countless names and variations, lycanthropes among them. Becoming a beast was never a matter of desire alone. The body and the soul had to be compatible with the transformation.

It began with choices made as early as level one, skills that altered biology, and continued with psychological acceptance of bodily change. Conscious and subconscious needed to align. One mistake and the result was always the same: death.

“And what would your method be, if not hybridization?” Luke asked.

“As you saw, it’s the puppet method. The Spectral Beast is externalized,” Vaelor replied. “That way, the body isn’t crushed under the beast’s weight. A partial fusion can still happen, but with my method, the beast can act independently, fighting alongside its host. It’s a special technique. One only I know how to create.”

Vaelor paused, then added, “But as I said, there’s nothing you possess that I want. Or will you lean on the Primordial of Darkness again?”

It was like a chessboard, and Vaelor had just taken away all of the young demon’s moves. If he invoked the Primordial’s name again, he would only weaken his position.

The Demon Blacksmith kept his expression stern, but inwardly, he smiled. In this exchange, he had won. This was the difference between him and an inexperienced demon.

“I do,” the young demon said calmly. “I have something you want.”

He does?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep