THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
The heavy footsteps echoed one after another. A group of demons, wearing human skins as disguises, were hauling massive, sealed crates—each one so heavy that the ground trembled with every step they took.
Occasionally, a poorly sealed box leaked thin streams of crimson, seeping out like veins of fresh blood.
On a high platform, Balder stood with his hands clasped behind his back, overlooking the demons laboring below like an emperor inspecting his army.
"My lord," one of the demons reported reverently, "the pool you ordered has been completed."
Balder vanished from his spot, reappearing at the edge of the newly carved pit.
The basin was enormous—over ten meters across and several meters deep.
Soon, the demons began to arrive one after another, each carrying those same massive crates. With a single crushing slap, they shattered the seals, pouring the thick, blood-red sludge into the pit below.
One crate. Then another.
They worked for an entire day. By dusk, the empty pit had transformed into a pool of blood, churning with a sinister energy.
Standing at the edge, Balder turned to the Adam beside him.
"The Blood Pool is ready," he said calmly. "Have you decided which demonic powers you want?"
The Adam nodded decisively.
"The strength of the Force Demon. The defense of the Armor Demon. The rage of the Bull Demon. The fire of the Flame Demon… and the regeneration of the Lesser Demon."
Balder nodded approvingly. "Aside from the Lesser Demon, the others are all high-tier beings. A solid combination."
The Lesser Demons—weak, cowardly, and plentiful—were considered the bottom feeders of Hell. Worthless for combat, useful only for their regenerative traits. Yet as a component in a fusion ritual, they served their purpose well.
"With the heart of a Nightwing Seraph, you'll gain divine resistance and unmatched speed," Balder continued. "No weaknesses—only perfection."
The Adam's eyes burned with anticipation. "Then when do we begin?"
"Not yet," Balder said with a faint smile. "We need one more person."
The Adam blinked, confused.
"Your body can reassemble," Balder explained, "but merging incompatible demonic essences isn't as simple as building with toys. Their energies repel one another. Without precision, the fusion will tear you apart.
Time is short. The Demon King will soon clash with Archangel Michael. If you are not reborn before that battle… this entire effort will have been meaningless."
He lifted his glass of wine later that night, swirling it lazily. "But I already know who to use."
———
There was a knock at the office door.
"Come in," Balder said.
The door opened, and Dr. Wade stepped in—not in her usual lab coat, but dressed casually in jeans and a fitted shirt that accentuated her graceful figure.
Balder's gaze was calm and unreadable. "You're not the one I called for."
Dr. Wade hesitated, unease flickering across her face—but her curiosity outweighed her fear.
"I know what you're planning," she said, taking a breath. "And I can do it. My understanding of the human body surpasses his."
"You know what I need him for?" Balder's tone was light, but his eyes gleamed like a predator's.
"A surgery," she said softly. "A very… special surgery."
The air thickened. An invisible pressure filled the room, suffocating her. Dr. Wade trembled but forced herself to meet his eyes.
"I can help you. Please. I know more than anyone else."
"Oh?" Balder's lips curved slightly. "And what else do you know?"
Gasping for breath, Dr. Wade sank onto the nearby sofa. When she'd recovered enough to speak, she reached into her pocket and handed him a ring—identical to the one Balder had once used as a vessel.
Balder's expression didn't change. "Continue."
"I had one just like this," she said. "But it vanished. And when it did… I realized parts of my memory were missing—specifically, the memories of the day I first appeared in your office."
"After some investigation," she continued, "I found distortions in my apartment's surveillance footage—frames bending, angles twisting, distances warping. Something invisible was there. Something not human."
Balder was silent. She pressed on.
"So I began piecing it together. The missing time, the ring, your changed behavior afterward… and I reached one terrifying conclusion."
Her voice trembled. "Mr. Naberis… you're not really him anymore, are you?"
A thunderclap split the night sky.
The pressure that followed was divine—suffocating, world-crushing. Dr. Wade's heart nearly stopped. Every instinct screamed death.
After what felt like eternity, Balder's voice finally returned—quiet and calm.
"Continue."
She gasped in relief. "I—I've already deleted the footage," she said quickly. "Destroyed every backup."
Balder was quiet for a long time. Then, almost gently, he snapped his fingers.
Dr. Wade's body jolted as certain memories were erased. When she woke moments later, she clutched her head, wincing in confusion.
"What do you want?" Balder asked, his tone unreadable.
Still dazed, she opened her bag and pulled out a notebook. On the last page, a note was scrawled in her own handwriting:
"If you feel pain or confusion, don't think. Just say what you desire."
She looked up, meeting his eyes. "Humans chase fame, wealth, and power. I already have the first two. But they fade."
Her voice steadied. "What I want… is eternity."
Balder understood. Immortality. The one obsession that had driven gods and monsters alike since the dawn of creation.
"And what will you offer in exchange?"
Dr. Wade smiled faintly. "Everything. My knowledge. My body. My soul. All of it… if it pleases you, my lord."
Her lips brushed against his ear as her voice dipped into a whisper.
"My master~."
The room fell silent, save for the crackle of power in the air.
Balder's eyes glimmered like deep waters—mocking, calculating, fathomless.
~~----------------------
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