"Amazing!"

Surrounding Jacob and Heskel's most powerful creations, the shining hoarders and their masters were ecstatic and unbridled in their desire to own a ship so extraordinary that it would be visible to all. Even the lightning construct Stelgi, who does not seem to have the ability to fear, is intimidated in front of the sleeping subject.

The Golden Witch Sieg stands at a distance from the people attending the celebration, and her owner likes to call her "Blood Witch". At this moment, the hallucinations of her lost hand awakened again. She began to notice a pattern that always seemed to preempt and avoid impending danger, especially considering that it had twice saved her while fighting the monsters of the lower kings who were trying to break into the territory of the God of Wealth lordship.

She will be wary of anything that could hurt her, even in the demon's private sanctuary.

Mrs. Peel still likes me. Her feelings for me have not been severed, they have only worn out. Her quiet flame burned in my heart. I felt the intensity of it.

My time will come.

I am her sword.

They wore overalls made from the fur of the demons of the God of Wealth, who gathered around him, and wherever he went, they broke down the barriers between realities, and the two stood in front of their creation, pride swelling in their hearts. Locke lives right behind them, and he can't wait to serve his master when he needs it.

"Incredible! The Demon Lord praised them again as they circled around the dormant vessel.

Jacob wasn't sure how long it took them to build the massive body, even though it felt like months, maybe even years. Most likely, he will only be away from the special space of the God of Wealth Mansion for a few days, but he will not know until he leaves its embrace.

He has a thick tuft of short hairs on his upper lip and chin that makes his perfume mask ticklish and itchy, even though he has been busy with his work and has not thought about personal hygiene and health.

He looked around and thought of how wise it would be to have Huskell paint the Chitoni sigil on their clothes to keep them safe from the Demon Lord, though he wished he was capable of doing so, and considered his lack of familiarity with the ancient alphabet to be his biggest obstacle. Hopefully, when he finally gets a chance to work on Tungsten Scrolls, this problem will be remedied.

Sig, Stelge, and Locke have all lived unprotected in the Demon King's territory for a long time, longer than Jacob, and the infectious aura emitted by the God of Wealth, like the smell of natural oils emitted by humans, has taken a toll on them both physically and mentally.

The Blood Witch has become obsessed with trinkets and knick-knacks, carefully hidden in the intimate corners of the interior of her expanding mansion. In addition, her blood has turned into an abnormal rose gold color, which is evident every time she uses the golden prosthesis.

Meanwhile, the Lightning Tamer seems obsessed with her mirror, freezing whenever she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the glittering treasure. Similarly, her appearance was deformed, with silver covering three-quarters of her previous original skeletal shell. Jacob is willing to bet that the magic he makes her use also somehow change irrevocably.

Locke is a unique example, as he has the brain of a canine, and the vices of greed are already manifested in his actions before he has anything to do with the demon lord, but he still shows a strange desire to "mark" his territory with the gold threads spun from him. Jacob had tested the new web he was now weaving and found that it was materially quite different from the original, meaning that the change was more than superficial. Similar to the changes experienced by Stelge, Locke's carapace is almost entirely golden from the mandible to the spinner.

"You've really outdone yourself," the God of Wealth praised once more, rounding his soon-to-be-built ship around the ship he was about to build, back in sight.

"I pray it's enough for me to close the deal."

"Many! Far more than that!"

The Demon King stopped in front of them and snapped his fingers. A huge orange slug crawled out of the coin-strewn ground beside him, and nothing could be seen except for a black crack in its mouth. An oval-shaped nucleus shone through its translucent flesh, and it was superficially a "head", just above its black, cracked mouth.

The God of Wealth placed a hand on his beast, and the beast immediately spat out the tungsten scroll that Jacob had entrusted to him. As soon as the scroll landed, Huskel picked it up to ensure its integrity. He simply unfolded it, making sure the drawings and instructions inside hadn't been touched, and nodded affirmatively to his room.

"I'm glad we were able to reach an amicable agreement," Jacob announced.

"Definitely. My past dealings with you have left me with the scars of distrust, so I'm glad you made good on your promises. ”

Jacob stared blankly at the Demon King.

"The Blood Witch will show you the way out. But first, let's look at my apotheosis!"

Like rain flowing under gravity, golden light flew out of this horned and demonic body, once known as a thief named Wex, whose soul was now forever trapped in a mirror-polished sword, buried beneath a mountain of riches. When the last wisp of gold essence left its old container, the body fell to the ground like this, and along with its weight, the coins were scattered.

Jacob smiled indulgently when the sleeping beast opened its eyes, revealing a glittering orange iris. A pulse of energy radiated from the dragon, the soul of the greatest demon ever seen in the Gardens of Herms, and its aura rejuvenated, proving that while Wax's body was suitable, it didn't match its soul as perfectly as the elongated salamander-like dragon that Heskell and Jacob had built.

"It's perfect!" The God of Wealth roared, expressing his joy with his great, fanged mouth and powerful vocal belt. It moved its six clawed limbs with ease and flicked its tail merrily. If it weren't for his body, which is 13 meters long and 4 meters high, it could have been an interesting sight. In fact, the excitement of such a huge body of the God of Wealth seemed to only alarm the onlookers who were still cheering for him just now.

As Jacob had expected, the corpse immediately began to deform, similar to what Weeks had when he was initially transformed, with the bruised skin stitched together undulating as it turned jade green, the upper part and head scaly, while the lower half and tail began to grow reddish-brown hair, like the hair of a blood-spattered bear.

However......

There was one distinctly important difference between the original ship and the new dragon-shaped ship, an important "flaw" that completely destroyed its strength, which Heskeel had deliberately added at Jacob's behest: the Necromantic Locks.

"What is this?" Where are my superpowers? What did you do!?" The giant dragon of greed spasmed in feeble rage and tried to trample its creator under its feet, but neither physically nor mentally could harm them. Not surprisingly, the Demon Lord would immediately notice the effects of the Soul Lock, as it limited his innate magical powers, which were further endowed by his private domain, such as his ability to observe everything that was happening within the realm of his private mansion, as well as his ability to transfer his body between locations, among other unique powers that he usually possessed. Only his aura was unhindered, although neither Heskeil nor Jacob was affected by its corrosion, thanks to their precautions.

"Heskel, if you don't mind."

Jacob could see a smile on White's face when he said the decisive words. "Obedience".

Sieg is on the run. As the servants of the Demon Lord battle their erstwhile rulers, the Endless Mansion of the Lord of Greed descends into chaos. The ruler, despite his apparently sealed powers, would wipe out those whom his glowing salamander eyes were looking at.

She vows that once she escapes the dangerous dimension of the rampaging Greedy Dragon, she will hunt down the Carnivore and his savage bodyguards. It wasn't a vow of revenge, as she didn't care much about the arrogant demon lord. No, it's a resentful oath because they rob her of a golden opportunity to sow her own betrayal and chaos and turn her into a supporting character.

"I swear, ma'am, their blood will be yours."

As she climbed yet another hill of layers of gold coins and stolen treasure, a fur demon raced through the air overhead, bat-like wings flapping Sig's unkempt blonde hair.

It seems that after the Demon Lord and his servants had spent weeks settling down on the behemoth, the butcher had somehow plunged him into a blind rage. Or has it been months? Maybe it's been a couple of years......

She shook her head, trying to dispel the fog that hung over her memory. Somehow, as she gets closer to the demon, the pervasive pressure she feels becomes stronger than before and interferes with her abilities.

A huge tremor suddenly shook the entire interior of the mansion, and she was almost buried in the valley below as she slid off a pile of dirt, burying some strange structures where the demons lived when it collapsed in an avalanche.

After managing to avoid a near-death moment crushed under tons of gold, she turned around and watched the battle between the demons and their angry lords. It seems that one of his former subordinates made a deep cut in one of his eyes, and the damage to his flesh was somehow related to the stability of the strange dimensional space in the building, and the existence of this space was purely because of his existence.

She thought it strange that since the God of Wealth clearly possessed more strength and vitality than her, they would point the finger at him, but perhaps this was what the demon behaved when he saw weakness. Normally, servants and squires would defend the honor of their lord by arresting those who had offended their lord. In the demonic world, all social mobility is driven by the primitive notion that might makes right, which is perhaps not too far-fetched to think. Seeger at least thinks that explains this strange behavior.

When she turned to look out at the horizon in the distance, she thought she could see an exit from the Pocket Kingdom, but she saw no sign of the butcher and his massive guards passing by. As soon as hell erupts, the couple disappears, leaving their buildings and former servants behind in a disturbing way.

"Ma'am, please give me the strength I need," she prayed as she roared toward the gate in the distance.

I'm looking forward to disemboweling.

"How many secrets do you have to hide from me?" As he and Heskell wandered through an abandoned aristocratic district, Jacob asked aloud about the countless battles between humans and monsters that had taken place since he was last here. It seems that order has been restored, but, judging by the huge cremation piles and the bodies that have not yet been recovered, the price of this victory is high. He didn't know if the king and his guards would venture into the depths to confront his grandfather. After all, if they had ever come to an agreement, the grandfather's actions would have certainly violated the terms of the agreement and ensured his own death penalty.

Herskel did not answer the question. Ever since they first left the gutter, he had shown many quirks, such as the development of his character, not to mention the obscure spells and rituals that he had yet to mention.

They left the Greedy Lord's private domain and passed through the intricate Underworld sigil that White had prepared in advance, unbeknownst to even Jacob, which penetrated the infinite space of the God of Wealth and created an entrance for them to simply pass through and return to reality. They emerge in the garden outside the building, emerging from a rotting hedge.

Moreover, it was his ancient knowledge of necromancy that allowed them to trap the demon lord's soul in his new vessel and in a sense make him a "mortal", at least so that he could be killed. However, like all true demons, he cannot be permanently killed, only to revert to his natural form in the realm that generated him.

It may take a while, but sooner or later, the demon lord will be slain by smaller demons who will seize on his weakness, just as a wolf senses a wounded leader and believes in his ability to take the cloak. This will be yet another unsolved problem, although to be honest, it's not really an unsolved problem. After all, the Soul Lock ensured that the God of Wealth could not cross the boundaries of his mansion into the Helms Gardens.

Even such powerful demons are easily trapped, and Jacob still tries not to find it funny. In a way, the stronger they are, the less cunning they are, as if their strength is the only thing that matters. This is evidenced by the fact that the God of Wealth did not even consider the possibility of Jacob's trickery.

But then again, he and Heskel had been careful to only pass through Nec

osc

IPT or cipher language to communicate, like passing a note under the watchful eye of a mentor, unless found to result in a painful death.

The two walked to the gate bridge leading to the North Market, and although the situation in this area was better than that of the aristocratic quarter, there were also destroyed storefronts and piles of corpses everywhere. However, unlike the aristocratic district, the Crown's guards, as well as a small group of mercenaries from the Adventurers' Guild, maintained order and left room for the injured and dispossessed. They now seem to have avoided the French Territory altogether, perhaps because they fought a battle with the servants of the Demon King and lost, or perhaps because they thought it was not as important as the money-making market, where the rich and powerful had invested countless fortunes.

Led by Hesquel, they hurried through alleys and paths with tungsten scrolls in their hands to the apothecary's yard. Jacob wanted the king to think that his former laboratory was abandoned and insignificant, as they now faced a greater threat from below. But even if they still kept guards there or sent patrols, the couple would only be able to stay there long enough to decipher the scrolls.

"Let's hope they didn't completely destroy our tools."

Heskel snorted coldly.

"You're right. What does it matter?"

"Your Majesty...... What did you do!?"

“Si

ellius。 Which is more important to you: the stability of the kingdom or your former king?"

The shriveled advisor looked at the man sitting on the throne, he was slumped back in his chair, nearly two dozen stab wounds to his torso and abdomen, blood oozing out. Partridge still had the murder weapon in his hand, and his muscular body showed no signs of emotion or nervousness, which was supposed to be a traumatic event. The blood of his ancestors dripped from the tip of the knife and soaked the white and purple carpet, leaving a stain that could never be washed away.

"The king is dead......

Sirelius met his new ruler, his icy blue eyes fixed on him.

"Salute to the king and may he live a long life!"

Partridge took the crown from his late father's forehead, and even bothered to wipe off the crimson spots that stained its brilliance, and placed it on his perfect head.

Come to think of it, just a week ago, he passed away.

“Si

ellius.”

The old man froze as he waited for the new king's first order.

"Bring me the one who reinvents me. I would like to thank him personally. ”

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

Sigur doesn't need a clue to know the location of his prey. For she had learned something about Jacob that would surely lead to his destruction:

He is arrogant and arrogant, believing himself to be unshakable.

Such individuals may not conform to their initial patterns of behavior, but this does not make them less predictable.

"Stop! A patrolling guard asked as she had just crossed the gate bridge into the North Market, but she was too adamant to let anyone get in her way. Before the man could reiterate his request, her golden arm had grown bloody thorns that had stabbed several holes in his throat, and she gently slapped him with her palm.

The wingman of the guard, as they were always in pairs in this part of the city, had just drawn his sword from its sheath when the blood of his companion shot out of his open wound like a storm of crossbow arrows, tearing him apart.

Seeger's mastery of hematology and her imagination have improved greatly. With just one word, she brought the blood of the two victims to her, which covered her prosthetic leg like a layer of crimson skin. If an archer needs a bow and arrows; Sigurt needs blood to cast magic, and while her own blood is fine, as long as she has enough blood left, this is only for emergencies.

With a crimson arsenal, she galloped down country roads and eventually found a place to climb up to the roof so she avoided twists and turns and wasted as little time as possible.

Jacob would die today, she swears.

With an almost religious reverence, Heskell opened the tungsten scroll, the only table they had salvaged from the rubble where Jacob had confronted the royal agents.

Just like Jacob saw it for the first time, seeing what was inside made him dizzy, his mouth was dry, and his eyes began to itch. It seems that the eyes of a mortal should not read its curly, erratic signs, nor its intricate drawings and diagrams.

The reels are always unfolded and do not need to be pressed down. Jacob almost felt that it was eager to be read and understood. It craves to be used. Apparently, he was no stranger to books and tomes infused with sentient minds or enslaved souls, but the scrolls were made of a seemingly inert metal precisely because most of the apparent Ketnik symbols had devastating powers. Therefore, tying emotions to language may not seem to work, but it is also known that Chitoni is not a language that plays by rules: it is a language that makes rules.

Curiously, there are only two things they have encountered, they don't self-destruct, and they don't burn with the mark of the Kittrons on their surfaces: the strange metal called "tungsten", and the skin of creatures such as humans, demons, and beasts.

This seemed meaningless to Jacob, as leather and skin did not have unique properties similar to this metal. Perhaps the answer lies not in the logic he understands, but in some unknowable force, similar to the entity that powerful language can evoke.

After letting White study the scroll for hours, Jacob looked at him expectantly.

"Is this what we believe?"

Heskeel looked away from the metal plate.

"It's a summoning ritual."

Jacob gritted his teeth and squeaked his jaw in protest. He carefully exhaled the steam, loosening the tension that was clutching him. He took a deep breath through his nose, a hazy sense of nostalgia coming over his nose.

“…… So, please let me know...... What does it summon?"

While waiting for White's answer, his chest ached from the tension that was rapidly building up in his body. He was too excited to control it, and he felt blood run out of his nose and down his lips under the mask.

Heskel looked at him eagerly. He didn't need to speak, Jacob could understand the answer.

Sig's gold-toed boots kicked him in the temple, slamming his head against the brick wall. The impact produced a loud internal crunch, but, to be sure, she leaned against his unconscious body and slammed her palm into his forehead, her rose blood piercing his skull and brain matter like an ice pick piercing hard ice.

A few more streets away.

She was now very close to the apothecary, though the persistent guards found the corpses of the patrol she had slaughtered, repeatedly delaying her advance. Although she has always been adept at avoiding the gaze of her guards, she puts caution aside and finds her prey before they leave the city and flee from her and other enemies.

Just as she turned the corner, she waved her golden arm and shot three blood darts at one of the guards. Her expression of surprise lasted only a moment, and the light from her body was sucked away as the darts inside her exploded.

Before more people could catch up with her, Sieg quickly walked away. The alley wasn't a good place to hide from detection, but as it turned out, the rooftop was even worse, with a well-aimed arrow hitting her in the ear and cheek.

The illusion of the arm that the God of Wealth had taken from her made her stand at once, and not too late, for an arrow flew past her, so close that it ruffled her tousled hair, and it was intended to shoot her.

She turned around and instinctively threw a dense volley of bloody arrows at the archers who were standing nearly forty meters away in her path.

The archer managed to fire another arrow as her own cannonball flew across the distance at a blinding speed, but Sieg easily pulled the blood from her body like a shield in front of her, and after a few seconds, the steel-tipped missile stopped.

The archers, on the other hand, had no such defense, and their recklessness left their faces full of open craters, where blood magic crashed and exploded.

Sieg turned and walked on. She's close to her now.

“Nha

lla ?” Jacob asked, unsure if he had heard correctly. "Are you absolutely sure ——?"

Heskeel nodded solemnly.

"That's impossible."

"Yes," he insisted.

"What does it take to summon such an entity?" If we dare to do this, will we destroy our world?"

"Not sure."

Jacob bit his lower lip, which was already a bloody ruin due to his repeated peeling with his teeth. He took off his perfume mask and wiped the blood from his nose and mouth, but the blood was still flowing eagerly.

The tungsten scroll has not only instructions on how to summon the Lord, but also a watcher's own vassal, which is unimaginable. However...... Somehow, he guessed, these great people had come into contact with the inhabitants of this world, otherwise their language, symbolic letters, and incantations would not have spread here.

The watchman had many vassals, all of whom in one way or another undermined their power, but Jacob knew only three of the vassals' National Hymns: the Watchmen's own Hymn of Crazy Devouring; In September, there was a "stone plague"; and Nha

LLA, there are "catastrophic screams", "unraveling" and "doppelganger" hymns.

Other hymns he knew of were the work of his grandfather, such as "Amalgam hymns" or "implosions," and some minor versions of "real" hymns that he had always suspected were derived from "great" hymns.

Considering that all the spells he knew of related to Nahara were related to metaphysical illnesses and hallucinations, it seemed that summoning this entity would not lead to the traditional destruction of the world, but the results could be more devastating or more long-lasting. It is unknown what kind of events will lead to summoning a great person into reality, however, Jacob may be rewarded in some form for such an attempt. Suddenly, the thought of what kind of reward such a powerful person would give him, his mind was filled with dangerous thoughts.

He stared at his lifeguard for a long time.

"We've got to give it a try."

Heskeil made a sound that could have been snickering. He should have known that the White family would easily accept such a challenge.

All thoughts about the tasks that his grandfather had once given him suddenly became less important. The old spider is still looking for the tome that Wicks stole from the mage quarters, which Jacob almost finds amusing, and Jacob now has something a million times dwarfed by their rituals. Even the summoning of the Messira could not be compared to the greatness of summoning Nahara, if that was indeed possible.

"So. How do we get started?"

Huskel began to list what they needed, as stated on the scrolls.

Sig fiddled with the golden finger of the prosthesis, walked through the fenced yard, walked to the bottom of the stairs, and entered the belly of the prosthesis. Even though she was still outside, and there was a strong wind blowing in the area and in the alley behind, the smell of all kinds of goods in the "apothecary" shop filled her nostrils.

She decided that when I was done, I should kill Hargraves.

With all her might, she ordered the blood smeared on her body to fuse into the shape of a rough dagger. She wanted to look at Fleiscraft when she killed him.

The hallucinatory pain reminded her that she was almost there.

She quietly pried open the door to the basement and saw a figure leaning against a metal plate in the damp, dark basement that could be seen by candlelight. The rest of the house had been overturned and destroyed, leaving her curious to know what had happened here since she had last set foot in this terrible Creator's lair.

focus.

She could easily throw a blood dart through the crack in the door so she could kill the boy, but it was too easy. Such killings must be savored. After all, she had been fantasizing about it for months.

She carefully pushed the door open with her real hands, then slipped inside, sneaking towards the figure. She almost thought it was someone else, but she remembered the strange costume he and his valet had made in the realm of the God of Wealth, with the skin of greedy demons who flocked to him like flies on.

Even though she had been quiet, he suddenly turned to look at her.

"I think I smell you." He told her that his face was expressionless, and that the crimson mask he usually wore hung from the neck of the devil's skin robe.

No! This is wrong. You've got to be afraid of me! I am your Grim Reaper, come and collect your soul!

"Huh?"

Sieg took a step back, and Jacob looked at her coldly.

No! No! I'm not afraid! I am the embodiment of fear!

She gripped the dagger, the blood collected from every guard who stood in her way.

Just as she was about to pounce on him, a fat, powerful hand grabbed her by the neck and pulled her up from the floor, and she was caught by the vice, and her body crackled.

The more she struggled, the shadow of Heskel seemed to engulf her entirely.