Chapter 67: Greed

"Huh?" Borak stared at the parchment in his hands, unable to suppress a sound of bewilderment. This arcane ritual was far too bizarre, far too simple, far too ridiculous—it was practically a children's game! And this could summon the most powerful devil? As one of the oldest families in the Sacred Heinz Empire, the House of Goldcrest had amassed a vast collection of arcane texts within its archives, ensuring that its members would not be helpless when confronting magic during their adventures and travels across the continent. Moreover, rumor held that the family descended from the bloodline of Thanos, the "Sun King" of the ancient Sylvanas Magic Empire! Therefore, even though Borak could not cast spells and knew nothing of Meditation, he still possessed a basic understanding of arcane rituals. He had never seen such an incomprehensible ritual process before—yet amidst its simplicity and absurdity, he could faintly sense an indescribable eeriness, as though something truly unfathomable by mortals lurked behind it. After more than ten minutes of silence, Borak began muttering to himself, as if mustering his own courage: "I'm already planning to enter into a contract, so there's no harm in trying this ritual. If it doesn't work, I'll just chalk it up to being tricked—no real loss. But if it does work, then…" His fists clenched tight once more, his expression twisting, his eyes revealing unmistakable longing, anticipation, and brutality. He glanced up and saw the mechanical clock nearing eleven thirty. Borak hurried to his feet and began searching for a white candle, a mirror, an apple, and a small knife. But the more frantic he became, the more things seemed to go wrong. It took him over a dozen minutes just to find a mirror and a knife; the white candle and the apple had seemingly vanished into thin air. At that moment, Borak deeply regretted dismissing all his servants and granting them a day off. A noble lord like himself never had to find things on his own! Realizing he was about to miss midnight, he was nearly tempted to slap himself. He was so desperate, so unwilling to wait until the next night. Borak was drenched in sweat. He finally tracked down the white candle and the apple in the kitchen. Never in his life had Borak felt such genuine affection for two such mundane objects—a wave of sincere joy washed over him. He hurried back to the study, blew out all the other candles, leaving only the single candlestick in his hand for brief illumination, then drew the curtains and arranged the mirror, candle, apple, and knife. He checked the time and saw that only two minutes remained until midnight. Borak hastily let down his half-long golden hair, leaving it in a wild, tangled mess that made him look like an evil Witch from a Bard's tale. With everything prepared, Borak sat quietly behind the desk, waiting for the moment to arrive. Suddenly, a thought struck him. He grew anxious at once: "Could the mechanical clock be inaccurate? Could I have already missed midnight?" That old, clunky timepiece regularly fell several minutes behind and required a clocksmith to be summoned for adjustments—and there was no standard time to compare against! He pulled out his pocket watch, confirmed that the time matched closely enough, but then began doubting the accuracy of his pocket watch as well. Although he knew that "midnight" referred to the window between twelve and one in the morning, not strictly the stroke of twelve, he could not stop himself from worrying. The greater the hope, the stronger the anxiety! The ticking of the clock hands was extraordinarily loud in the still night, and it seemed to resonate with Borak's own heartbeat. He felt as though his heart might burst from his chest, his blood surging wildly, his temples throbbing. Dong. The deep chime of midnight rang out. Borak's back straightened instinctively. He quickly blew out the candlestick, then fumbled so clumsily he nearly snapped the white candle as he lit its flame. The dim yellow glow, reflected in the mirror, appeared ghostly and hazy, flickering ceaselessly as though countless devils lurked within the shadows. Combined with the pitch-black night and the sealed room, the atmosphere instantly turned eerie and terrifying. Borak shivered involuntarily and began to believe this arcane ritual was no prank. He swallowed twice, then picked up the green apple and the small knife with trembling hands and began to peel. Though he had never peeled fruit before, Borak was, after all, a High-level Knight Squire, and his control over his hands was reasonably competent. Even though his movements were clumsy and he nearly severed the peel several times, he managed each time by the narrowest of margins. As Borak's peeling grew smoother, his gaze drifted upward to the mirror. He saw his own face—partially obscured by tangled hair, the dim candlelight casting harsh contours of light and shadow across it. As the light shifted, his reflection appeared monstrous and grotesque. Never having seen himself in such a way, Borak felt a chill seep into his heart. The version of himself in the mirror seemed like a stranger—as though his soul had plunged into hell! The weight in his hand lightened. Borak looked down and saw that the apple had been completely peeled, a thin, curled ribbon of skin lying twisted on the desk. "Did it work?" Borak quickly looked up, hoping to see a devil summoned before him—but the mirror showed only himself, equal parts eager and ghastly! A surge of bitter disappointment flooded through him. He murmured, "Did I get something wrong?" Suddenly, a strange, cold breeze swept through the sealed room, making the candle's dim flame tremble and waver. Borak instinctively looked at the mirror surface and saw his own golden-haired, blue-eyed reflection staring straight back at him—no different from before. He was about to lower his head in dejection when the Borak in the mirror suddenly curled his lips into a sinister smile. Then the face began to tear, the entire mask of skin peeling away to reveal raw, blurry flesh beneath. "Ah!" Confronted with such an grotesque, such a horrifying sight, Borak screamed in terror. He tried to retreat but found himself pinned to the chair, able only to press his back hard against it. The blurry flesh began to twist and squirm, reshaping itself into a figure with upswept brows, a chalk-white face, and a vivid red tongue lolling grotesquely long—a "devil." "Heeding your summons, I come from the deepest depths of hell. Speak your request." The cold, lifeless voice made Borak tremble several more times, but it also jolted him into realization—he had truly summoned a devil! This incomprehensible arcane ritual actually worked! "I want to become a Knight—no, I want to become a Great Knight! I want to become Duke of Goldcrest!" Borak shouted in excitement. In that moment, the ugly, terrifying "devil" across from him seemed impossibly endearing and respectable! "The law of the devil: to gain, you must pay an equal price. Are you prepared to pay?" The long tongue dangled to its chest, swaying back and forth as the "devil" spoke with a cold smile. Borak was about to blurt out that he was ready, when a sudden flash of insight stopped him. "The price differs depending on what one requests, correct?" "Naturally. I am Greed, one of the seven eldest and most ancient devils of hell. You must pay a price that satisfies me for your greed." The devil calling itself Greed spoke. Though Borak had never seen a devil of this appearance, the moment he heard "one of the seven eldest and most ancient devils," he recalled a scroll he had once seen in the family's secret vault—a legend about Thanos, the Sun King—which had obliquely mentioned seven extraordinarily mysterious ancient devils, including Greed and Hatred. At this, Borak became a true and thorough believer in the arcane contract: "Respected Lord Greed. What price must I pay to become Duke of Goldcrest? What price to become a Great Knight? And what price to merely become an ordinary Knight while retaining the possibility of advancing to Great Knight?" A deal with a devil must never be entered under deception. Borak recalled the note from "Father": "Never sell your soul to a devil, and never rely upon one." The devil Greed smiled faintly. "To become Duke of Goldcrest, you must surrender your soul after death to me. Rest assured—you shall enjoy eternal life within my domain, with endless pleasures. To become a Great Knight, I shall take the remainder of your lifespan after subtracting the first fifty years. Whether or not you become a Sky Knight or a Golden Knight, you will live to fifty and no further. To merely become an ordinary Knight while retaining the possibility of advancing to Great Knight, I require ten years of your lifespan in exchange." Borak drew a soft breath, deeply conflicted. Selling his soul to be eternally damned in the domain of the devil Greed was too terrifying—it was the option he least wanted to choose. Especially since "Father" had repeatedly warned him not to be deceived by devils. And if he could only live to fifty, what would be the point of becoming a Great Knight or competing for the title of Duke? However, Greed seemed different from other devils—it played no tricks, concealed no clauses, and laid out the price and consequences with perfect clarity. After a long struggle, Borak asked in a low voice: "Lord Greed, after I make my choice this time, if I fail to achieve my goal, can I summon you again and make a new choice?" He feared making the wrong decision. "There is no issue with that. However, any price already paid cannot be returned—it would constitute an entirely new transaction." Greed dispelled Borak's doubts. Borak took a deep, shaking breath. "I choose to become an ordinary Knight, while retaining the possibility of advancing to Great Knight." "So be it. However, this requires a slight alteration to the trajectory of your fate. Therefore, you must tell me in full every event that has occurred in your life—every encounter, every experience. The more detailed and comprehensive your account, the greater the possibility you retain for advancing to Great Knight." The devil Greed bowed with gentlemanly grace. Borak, desperate to become a Knight, harbored no suspicion regarding Greed's demand. After all, altering one's fate would indeed require such information. From what he knew of astrology, the more one understood the subject of divination, the more accurate the prediction! "…My first time was with my father's mistress… but she's grown old now, and I've begun to distance myself from her…" Borak narrated every past event, daily habit, and personality tendency of his life in a steady stream—whether it was a secret known only to himself or something widely known. Meanwhile, outside the study, the secret guard stationed by the House of Goldcrest stared blankly toward the far end of the corridor. According to the family's rules, the guard was not to interfere with what the heir did or what path he chose. As long as the heir ultimately passed the trial, defeated the other claimants, and became Duke of Goldcrest—without selling his soul or betraying the family's core interests—then even collusion with a devil beforehand was of no consequence. "Strength and cunning are the root of all things"—that was the House of Goldcrest's founding creed. And so, the guard had watched Borak come and go from the black market without intervening, merely ensuring his safety and recording everything to report to the old Duke. It was, in fact, he who had found the white candle and the apple earlier and placed them in a conspicuous spot in the kitchen. "Why is this arcane ritual so strange, so eerie, so utterly baffling?" Not long after the ritual began, the guard's consciousness gradually blurred. ………… In another room of the villa, a figure wearing a black hooded cloak—Lucian—watched the mirror before him in silence, a faint smile on his lips as he listened to Borak's detailed and comprehensive confession. This yielded far more information than directly reading his memories ever could! Sometimes, without even using magic, one could get a person to willingly reveal everything they knew—as long as one found the right crack in the soul, many "Illusions" need not be cast at all.