16. A Blood Contract
The greater demon who’d come to assassinate me, after calling off the assassination, immediately knelt and swore allegiance.
Is this a dream? Please don’t tell me this is some cruel joke.
I decided to question the demon before me.
“You came to assassinate me, right?”
“I did.”
“And you decided not to?”
“I did.”
“So? Why are you suddenly pledging your loyalty?”
“…In the face of death, a creature’s… a living being’s true nature is revealed.”
He spoke slowly, his speech now laced with honorifics.
“You are composed. To kill one who has accepted death and chosen to serve their nation… I cannot commit such a foolish act.”
It wasn’t that big of a deal. I’d just gotten used to being targeted for assassination since arriving in this world.
“I may be killed for disobeying orders. I may be executed for plotting to assassinate a supreme commander. But I wish to atone for my sins by dedicating my remaining life to your service.”
The greater demon bowed his head, seeking forgiveness.
“I know this is self-serving, a way to ease my conscience. But please…”
The demon before me—Samarkand—raked his claws across his wrist.
“Hey! What are you doing?!”
I jumped out of bed, grabbing the comforter, and pressed it against his wrist. The white comforter immediately turned crimson. Samarkand gently took the comforter from me. He dipped his fingertips in the dripping blood and, with the vibrant crimson, began to draw symbols on my cheek.
“Call my name. From this moment forward, I am your absolute servant. I will be your shield, with every fiber of my being.”
“…Seriously…”
I could tell he was sincere. He didn’t need to resort to such theatrics. With his immense power as a greater demon, he could easily control me with mind magic.
“Um, are there any… conditions…?”
“For me, yes. For you, no. You simply have absolute command over me.”
Over a greater demon?
“If you doubt me, I am willing to offer an arm or two as proof of my loyalty before becoming your subordinate.”
He continued, his words earnest, even as I remained silent.
“If you deem my loyalty unworthy, I will obey your command to end my own life.”
“Wait, this is a lot to process.”
“I attempted to take the life of one worthy of my service. That sin can only be atoned for with my life.”
“…Hmm… alright, I understand.”
I nodded resolutely.
“I just have to say your name?”
“Yes.”
“—Samarkand.”
The moment I spoke his name, the blood symbols on my cheek grew warm.
A distinct sensation filled my chest. Warm and comforting. Like holding a heart in my hand, gently squeezing it. The certainty that I could stop its beating at any moment.
At the same time, I knew I wouldn’t.
Because this was mine. This bond, offered to me.
Samarkand.
I understood. This demon had truly offered me everything.
“Samarkand.”
“Yes!”
I shifted to the tone of the Virus King, Lord of Disease.
“I accept your loyalty. In the name of the Virus King, Lord of Disease.”
“…I am eternally grateful. This is the greatest honor.”
This is heavy. Happy, but heavy.
Samarkand’s wrist was still bleeding.
“Samarkand. An order.”
“Anything.”
“Heal your wrist.”
“Huh?” Samarkand tilted his head.
“Did you not hear me? Or are there some orders you can’t follow?”
“No. My life and my honor are yours to command. However, I fail to grasp the intent of your order.”
This is heavy. But why can’t he follow such a simple order?
“Did I say something that difficult to understand?”
“In terms of meaning, no. However, I attempted to take your life.”
“Yes.”
“I fail to understand why you would command me to heal myself… especially a self-inflicted wound necessary for our contract.”
“Samarkand, are you stupid?”
“Compared to your profound wisdom, my master, I am indeed a fool.”
“No, I don’t need the flattery.” I sighed.
I resumed the tone of the Virus King, Lord of Disease.
“—You said you entrusted your life to me, correct?”
“Yes.”
“I can interpret that as you becoming my subordinate, right?”
“It would be my greatest honor.”
“Then heal your wrist. I’m not the kind of superior who enjoys seeing their subordinates injured.”
“Yes…” Samarkand placed his palm over his wrist. White smoke curled from between his fingers. When he removed his hand, the wound was gone without a trace.
“Allow me to clean the blood from your cheek.”
“Please.” Samarkand extended a muscular arm—
“Get back, scum!”
A knife plunged into his arm.
Leave a Reply