EVEN AS A SLAVE, THE HEAVENLY DEMON'S MIGHT SHALL TAME THE BEAUTIES Chapter 3: CONTRACT

The group moved through a narrow corridor, its walls marred with dark patches of mold that seed to thrive in the damp, stale air. The flickering light of the torch cast wavering shadows that played tricks on the eyes, making the hallway appear longer than it was.

Scurrying feet echoed beneath them as rats darted across the cracked stone floor, vanishing into crevices and cracks. The scent of mildew and decay hung heavy, a testant to the neglected state of the place.

At the end of the corridor stood a wooden door, weathered with age and marked by deep grooves where countless hands had pushed it open. The blond man gave a nod, and Tod, the brute, shoved the door wide with a grunt. It creaked as it swung open, revealing a small but unexpectedly lavish office that seed out of place in such a dismal setting.

The office was furnished with opulent, albeit slightly worn, decor. A plush, crimson rug with intricate golden patterns covered most of the stone floor, muffling the sounds of their footsteps.

Velvet drapes, heavy and deep blue, frad the lone window, though they were drawn tightly shut, allowing only a sliver of light to penetrate the room. A grand mahogany desk sat in the centre, polished to a dark sheen, and scattered with parchnt and quills, so tipped with gold.

Behind the desk, a high-backed chair upholstered in black leather lood, giving the impression of power. Brass candle holders stood on either side of the desk, their flas casting a warm, wavering glow that danced across the walls, adorned with faded portraits of stern-faced figures. Shelves lined one side of the room, cramd with tos bound in cracked leather, their spines etched with ancient runes and titles in forgotten languages.

The rchant stepped in first, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, followed by the blond man whose sharp eyes surveyed every detail, assessing the value of the place. Tod brought up the rear, hauling Yomi’s weakened body over his shoulder and dropping him unceremoniously on the rug.

"Welco, dear custor, to my humble office," the rchant said, a thin smile spreading across his face as he gestured to the chair opposite him. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

The blond man glanced at Yomi, who lay crumpled on the floor, his breathing ragged and eyes hollow, before turning his attention back to the rchant.

The rchant’s fingers drumd anxiously on the edge of his desk as he rummaged beneath it, finally producing a choker embedded with small, glimring runes and a piece of parchnt that pulsed with a faint, mystic glow. He handed the choker to Tod, who stood nearby, muscles taut and obedient, before turning his attention to the parchnt. A thin smile played on the rchant’s lips as he exhaled on the enchanted paper, watching the dust swirl and settle with an air of finality.

Raiven, the tall blond man with eyes that burned like molten gold, reached into his satchel and withdrew a hefty pouch, which he extended to the rchant. The soft jingle of coins filled the office, a sound that never failed to soothe the rchant’s restless spirit.

"It’s all there. Feel free to count it," Raiven said, his voice carrying a blend of confidence and impatience.

The rchant narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Raiven with a sideways glance as he tossed the pouch from one palm to the other, gauging its weight. A sly grin cracked his lips.

"No need, esteed custor. Your party’s reputation precedes you in this town, renowned for your... unique acquisitions." His grin widened as he handed Raiven a crimson dagger that seed to shimr ominously under the light.

"Is that so?" Raiven replied coolly, taking the dagger and slicing his thumb with practiced ease. A bead of blood welled up before he pressed it against the parchnt. It flared with sudden light, sealing the transaction with an arcane glow.

Tod stepped forward, slipping the choker around Yomi’s neck. The cold tal clamped shut with a chilling snap, and an unsettling pulse of energy surged through him.

A tallic voice echoed in Yomi’s mind, sharp and unwavering.

"[The Host has entered into a slave contract]."

The words reverberated in his weary thoughts, confirming the source of the oppressive force constricting his soul. An acrid taste filled his mouth, and though his body trembled with exhaustion, his spirit bristled with defiance.

’So that explains this foul sensation,’ Yomi thought, his vision swimming as the weight of the contract bore down on him like chains forged from the will of the heavens.

mories of battles, of celestial beings wilding the familiar energy crushed under his unmatched power, flickered through his mind. Now, reduced to this wretched state, the irony bit deep.

"[Host is advised to break the contract]," the voice urged, chanical and detached.

Yomi’s brows furrowed in confusion. How could he shatter bindings he had never before encountered, ones steeped in an ancient magic unfamiliar even to him? The voice spoke again, providing the only glimr of hope he had heard since waking in this miserable place.

"[Resolution found: Break through the first stage of the Zen Flow cultivation to break the contract]."

Before he could ponder further, the rchant’s voice sliced through the haze of his thoughts. "Tod, take the product outside for our honored guest," he commanded, his tone shifting from cordial to commanding.

Tod’s grip was rciless as he seized Yomi by the choker, dragging him across the wooden floor. The rough boards scraped against Yomi’s weakened limbs, the pain lancing up his body as he struggled in vain. His fingers clawed at the choker, gasping for air as it tightened around his throat. His legs flailed, fighting for purchase, but the brute’s strength was unyielding.

Outside, the cold night air bit into Yomi’s skin as Raiven’s open carriage awaited under the dim glow of lanterns. The rchant, now shadowed by the flickering lights, extended a hand toward Raiven, his smile as thin and sharp as the blade they had just used.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Raiven," he said smoothly.

Raiven clasped the rchant’s hand, his eyes never leaving Yomi’s face, a smirk ghosting across his lips.

"Indeed. The pleasure is all mine."