Devil Of Death
When the elder and the others prostrated themselves at his words, the silence that followed became unbearable.
It pressed down on them like a weight.
No one dared to speak.
No one even dared to move.
Who knew how much time passed while they remained like that, their foreheads pressed against the cold floor, their bodies stiff and trembling.
Seconds felt like minutes.
Minutes felt like hours.
Yet not a single person wavered.
Because they all knew one thing very clearly.
This was the only way they could survive.
Still, silence could only be endured for so long.
When the pressure grew too heavy, when his thoughts began to spiral uncontrollably, the elder finally realized that he had to say something.
They couldn't remain like this forever.
So he slowly lifted his head—only a little, just enough to speak—and began to offer his praise, carefully choosing his words, hoping to flatter the great being even a little.
But the result was the exact opposite of what he expected.
The great being made it clear that their greed had a price.
And in that moment, the elder felt it.
Death.
It felt as if it was only inches away.
So close that he could almost touch it.
The fear was so overwhelming that his mind stopped working properly, his thoughts turning into a tangled mess.
'I need to say something… something that will satisfy him.'
If he failed—
Death would be the easy outcome.
Then a thought crossed his mind.
An artifact.
The one the organization head had given him when he became an elder.
But that artifact was only grand-grade.
'I don't think anything below special-grade will satisfy—'
His thoughts froze.
Then something triggered inside his mind.
Another grand-grade artifact.
If he fused them together—
If he succeeded in creating an ego within the artifact, then it could surpass its original limits.
It could become something far greater.
This method was something he had discovered recently from a forbidden dark magic book. The success rate was low. The process itself was extremely dangerous.
But—
'At least it's worth a shot.'
Anything was better than dying here.
'As for the second grand-grade artifact… I can use my merit.'
He had been saving those merits for five years.
Five long years after becoming an elder.
All for his own ascension.
For his leap into the eighth circle.
The reason an elder of such a large organization was still only a fifth-circle mage was because he had forcefully suppressed his growth, enduring the pain and backlash for the sake of greater future gains.
Wasting all of that effort felt like tearing his own heart apart.
But at this moment, there was no other choice.
His lifetime of preparation meant nothing compared to immediate death.
So he proposed his offer.
Not only that, he even said he will made a mana oath—something extremely dangerous for any mage to do.
And then he waited.
Hoping.
Praying.
That the great being would show even the slightest bit of interest.
For his immense relief, the being agreed.
It didn't feel like genuine interest.
It felt more like curiosity.
But for an existence like that to agree at all was already more than enough.
Just when the elder finally relaxed, even if only a little—
The great being spoke again.
And those words made his skin crawl.
They twisted his mind.
His lifetime of effort could only save him.
Not even one of his people would be spared.
The elder slowly raised his head.
On the throne, the being sat high and mighty, a faint smile on his face.
A smile that looked nothing like mercy.
It was a devil's smile.
The smile of an existence that viewed humans as nothing more than toys.
And not just any devil.
He was certain of it.
That being was the Devil Of Death.
***
Listening to my answer, I can clearly see the leader’s face distort.
Not just his.
The others react the same way. Their bodies tense, their breathing grows uneven, and the fear that had slightly faded comes rushing back all at once.
"How about I give you an offer?"
I speak before any of them can say anything else.
The words come out calmly, as if I"ve already thought this through a thousand times.
At that, the leader's eyes flicker.
Hope.
A very small, very fragile hope begins to form in his expression.
"You will give me that artifact when we meet again. It could be after one day, one week, months… or even years. Let fate decide it."
I pause slightly, letting the words sink in.
"You don't have to make any oath."
I can see his confusion grow, but I don't stop there.
"And as for the others..."
I add, my tone turning vague, almost lazy.
"You will know when the time comes."
After saying that pile of nonsense, I let them think.
Well, calling it a choice might be generous. I"s closer to a threat than an offer, but it's the best option I have right now.
It's not like I actually expect us to meet again anyway.
The leader stays silent for a moment.
Then, with no other option left, he lowers his head again and speaks in a very low voice.
"As you said… we will do that."
"Now scram."
The moment I say that, they move.
Fast.
Like prey that has just escaped the jaws of a predator.
They rush toward the exit without hesitation—only to suddenly stop.
The door is closed.
Seeing their panic rise again, I gesture slightly and tell them about another way out.
Understanding dawns on them instantly.
They bow once more, deeper than before, showing as much respect as they can, and then quickly disappear through a hidden path.
Only after I'm sure they're completely gone do I finally move.
I stand up from the throne and grab my spatial bag from behind it.
Then I make my way toward another secret exit that I know of, leaving the throne room behind without looking back.
After I get far enough away, my steps finally slow.
That's when my thoughts begin to surface again.
Something about all of this feels wrong.
Why did the trap stop?
That spatial magic was designed to attack anyone beneath the throne. It shouldn't have stopped just because I woke up.
And why was I sitting on the throne like that?
If I lost consciousness from the pain, I should've collapsed on the floor, not ended up resting there like some ruler waiting for visitors.
And the ring.
Where did it go?
There was nothing about it in the novel. Not a single line.
I even searched near the thorn before I left and even searched my clothes, my body's pockets, and my fingers.
But I found nothing.
It's as if the ring never existed.
In the end, I give up.
Whatever happened, I somehow managed to get out alive.
"…Sigh."
I let out a long breath.
Right now, all I want is a proper bath and a comfortable bed. My body feels exhausted, and my head hurts from thinking too much.
But I know that won't happen anytime soon.
A long journey is waiting for me.
"Let's just get out of here for now… and eat something."
With that as my next goal, I start moving again, leaving the place behind.
I have no idea yet.
No idea at all.
That the mess I created here will haunt me far more than I can imagine.
***
The elder and the remaining members made their way out of the place in silence.
No one spoke.
Their footsteps echoed faintly through the passage, yet even that sound felt too loud. Every breath felt heavy, as if the air itself was pressing down on them.
The elder walked at the front, his expression calm on the surface.
Inside, however, his mind was far from calm.
He kept thinking about the offer that being had made—or rather, the words he had spoken.
"Let fate decide when we meet again."
At first glance, it sounded vague.
But the elder understood its meaning all too clearly.
That wasn't fate.
That was a declaration.
It meant that when the time came, that being would find him. No matter where he hid. No matter how far he ran.
And then there was the other part.
"You don't need to make any oath."
To anyone else, it might have sounded merciful.
To the elder, it was far more terrifying.
It meant that even without an oath, even without a contract binding them, that being could still reach him at any time—and make him pay.
Just thinking about it sent a chill through his spine, fear creeping into his bones far worse than before.
"Master."
A voice called out from beside him.
The elder stopped.
Turning slightly, he saw his second disciple walking a step behind him.
The young man's face was pale, his expression conflicted, eyes filled with worry and confusion.
They continued walking as the disciple spoke again, lowering his voice.
"About what happened back there… was that really the right decision?"
The elder didn't answer immediately.
The disciple clenched his fists before continuing.
"I know how terrifying that existence was. I felt it too. But… you sacrificed everything. Your merits. Your preparations. Your entire life's work."
His voice wavered.
"That was meant for your ascension. For the eighth circle."
There was pain in his eyes.
Seeing his master give up something so precious made his chest ache.
The elder finally spoke.
"It was necessary."
His tone was calm, firm.
The disciple looked at him in disbelief.
"Necessary…? Master, with all due respect, I don't understand. Wasn't there another way?"
The elder stopped walking.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
Then he turned and looked at his disciple.
"You’re missing the bigger picture."
The disciple froze.
The elder's gaze was sharp, far sharper than usual.
"That being didn't spare us because of an artifact...."
"He spared us because he was curious."
The disciple's eyes widened.
"If I hesitated, if I tried to bargain further, or if I showed even the slightest resistance, none of us would be standing here right now."
The disciple opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
The elder turned away and resumed walking.
"My lifetime work can be rebuilt."
"Merits can be earned again."
"Artifacts can be obtained."
He paused for a brief moment.
"Lives cannot."
The disciple followed him in silence, his expression stunned, unable to refute a single word.
As they walked, the elder's thoughts shifted again.
To the future.
To preparation.
'I'll need another grand-grade artifact.
And the resources to fuse them.'
The materials. The catalysts. The book again.
His mind began mapping everything out.
How to obtain the artifacts.
Who to contact.
What favors to call in.
What price he would have to pay.
No matter how painful it was, he had already chosen this path.
Because deep down, he knew one thing for certain.
If that being ever came to collect his due—
Being unprepared would mean far worse than death.
