Chapter 70 :  The cradle

“No need to look far,” the demon replied with a sly, coiling grin. “Your comrades, scattered and lost in the mist… ripe offerings, are they not?”

“…You want me to kill the hunting party? Or am I the offering? Not sure I’d fare well if I tried you head-on.”

“They are disoriented, defenseless, adrift in the fog. Picking them off one by one—would that be so difficult? And you—one of the three pillars of this hunt—none would suspect you. The others trust you.”

Its serpentine tongue curled around his thoughts. The demon whispered like a shadow sliding across the soul.

“I have glimpsed the path you’ve walked, young sorcerer. Born of brilliance, raised on triumph—have you ever once tasted failure?”

Curtis  said nothing.

“But how long do you think that flame will burn? Many a child prodigy finds their own gift becomes their undoing. Are you so certain you’ll be different?”

Still, Curtis  remained silent.

“You were hired for this task, nothing more. Who would question you? Who would know? When the mist clears and only corpses remain… will anyone ask who dealt the blow? Would you waste this rare opportunity… for the sake of strangers?”

At last, Curtis  spoke.

“…And how exactly would you grant me this power? I assume you don’t mean after the offering is made?”

“You called it a transaction, did you not?” the demon smiled darkly. “I do not cheat. The reward is given in proportion to the value of your sacrifice. You, a wielder of magic—born twisted in sight—I, sharing your root, can magnify that twist. Your mastery would deepen. Your spells would evolve.”

“So you won’t be stuffing demonic essence into me?”

“A temporary infusion is possible… but you would not survive long. Your body would collapse.”

“Then that’s a no.”

“You’d owe me nothing—no leash around your neck. Only a single safeguard would bind you: a ward, to ensure you do not rise against me once empowered.”

“I see. So that’s how it works.”
Curtis  nodded as if piecing together a puzzle.

The demon, its grin widening, stretched out its hand.

“Then let us seal our pact, young sorcerer. Just a precaution… against betrayal.”

“Ah, right. Forgot to mention something.”

Curtis  extended his own hand—as if to meet the demon’s grip.

But while the demon had raised its right hand, Curtis  offered his left. And between them lay more than empty air; they stood far too apart to ever touch.

“Hmm?”

“I never said I agreed to the deal.”

Before the words had fully left his mouth, the spirit at Curtis ’s wrist, already awakened into its gauntlet form, unleashed a surge of water at full force.

KRRAAAASH!

A colossal torrent exploded outward, more like a battering ram than magic, crashing into the demon with enough power to fell a fortress. It didn’t even scream at first—just flew, slammed back like a stone from a siege engine.

It finally shrieked as it jolted to a stop, upside-down and suspended mid-air.

CLANK.

A black shackle had latched onto its ankle—linked to the Abyss, the yawning void above. The chain, short and merciless, dragged it back like a dog on a leash.

The demon crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. The shackles and chain vanished as if they’d never been, visible only when their prisoner dared step beyond its tether.

“So it really can’t run.”
Curtis  muttered, almost amused.

The spirit didn’t wait for commands. Water bolts—Suryungtan—continued to pound the demon as it struggled in the dirt.

WHUMP! SPLASH! WHUMP! SPLASH!

The impact churned the earth. Curtis  gathered the watery remnants, shaped them into spears, and drove them into the demon with methodical cruelty.

The fight should never have been so one-sided—but after that initial strike, the demon had lost all momentum. Not even a creature of its nature could recover from such a beating.

Broken and bruised, the demon croaked:

“W-why…?”

“At first, I thought you might be worth talking to,” Curtis  replied with a shrug. “You even lit the way through the mist. But every word that came out of your mouth reeked of charlatanry. You sounded like a back-alley fortune teller.”

“But… my offer… the power… it was real!”

“I don’t need it.”

Offer him ascension through blood sacrifice? Why, when defeating corrupted beasts raised his level anyway? Even if the demon’s method was more efficient, it wasn’t worth betraying innocents or sealing a pact with a snake.

“You think I’d fall for your act just because I’m young? Get lost.”

“KUAAAGHH!”

Curtis  didn’t let up. It was better to keep pressure on than let the demon catch its breath and plot a counter.

WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!

He was still pummeling the thing when another figure emerged from the mist.

“Ah. Lord Moritz.”

Curtis  turned slightly and offered a nod.

“What… what in the gods’ name is happening here?”
The patriarch stood stunned, eyes darting between the Abyss, and the thoroughly battered demon beneath it.

“Got here first. Thought I’d have a little fun with the demon.”

Curtis  answered calmly. Then his eyes narrowed.
He flicked his left wrist sharply.

SWOOSH!

A watery whip surged outward like a crashing wave.

BOOOM!

A fireball, newly formed, detonated prematurely as the wave smothered it. Even so, the blast force tore through half the water shield.

“…You too?”

Across from him stood Moritz, eyes cold, magic still lingering at his fingertips.

Curtis ’s lips curled in a dry, bitter smile.

“Like father, like son, I suppose.”

Moritz’s gaze hardened, but he said nothing.

The chain clinked once more as the demon groaned beneath the fading mist.

Curtis  didn’t wait. With one step forward, he let water rise again, coiling around his arms like living armor.

“Come on then,” he said softly. “Try something.”

No bravado. No posturing.

Just a simple promise, cool as flowing current.

If House Brutaine wanted to play a game  with demons they must be really ready for it because demon doesn’t joke about those stuff—then they’d soon learn what it meant to stand against the tide.