Muhammad Shafiq Mohd Nizam
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(Free) 10th- Chapter 7: Hunt and Unexpected Encounter.
🕑 Added 2025-08-17 09:33:36 +0000 UTC[Owen POV]
Before the hunt, I needed to upgrade my equipment first.
“That’s weird. Did the last optometrist make a mistake?” The balding optometrist scrutinized my eyewear in confusion.
I needed my eyes to not become a factor in tonight’s hunt. I had been forcing myself to wear glasses before, but it was getting too straining now.
“Your prescription is only minus five in both eyes. But these glasses you’re wearing — the left is minus six fifty, and the right is minus six seventy-five. That’s a pretty big jump. Did you not have any discomfort wearing these?” he asked.
“If I’m not experiencing discomfort, I wouldn’t be here to purchase contact lenses, would I?” I joked dryly while wearing the testing glasses. I looked quite weird when I saw my reflection in a nearby mirror.
The optometrist, with thick glasses of his own, laughed and said, “Sure. Wait here, I’ll bring the contact lenses soon. This is your first time, so I’m going to teach you how to care for them and how to put them on.”
I went there early in the morning after my jog and bought a few alternative lenses in descending power levels. -4, -3, -2, -1, although when I get to the -1, I would’ve chosen not to wear it anymore since my eyesight wouldn’t be a problem then.
I returned home and picked up the sheepskin leather that I had dried overnight. Then, I pricked my arm with a needle and collected the blood inside a charcoal ink bottle.
As the ink and blood mixed together, I dipped a feather quill and began writing the clauses of the contract on the sheepskin scroll.
“My limit is seven rules for now,” I muttered. “I should make an option too. If he turns out to be a high school chemistry teacher with terminal cancer, it’s better to make him a subordinate rather than a slave.”
Though honestly, I highly doubt that.
The contract I created was an amalgamation of both Taoist and witchcraft knowledge.
Taoist contracts were usually more forceful. The practitioner would reveal their soul directly and recite clauses at the subject—spiritual domination in its rawest form.
Witch contracts, on the other hand, were more ceremonial. The pacts weren’t with the witches themselves but between a higher force (often magic itself) and a mortal. The witch merely acted as the mediator.
My method fused both systems.
Instead of soul projection or ritual mediation, my blood served as the medium. The scroll—made from leather, inked with a mix of blood and magic—acted as the anchor.
It combined the witches’ method of voluntary pact-binding with the Taoist master-servant binding system. This allowed me to create a contract between me and a mortal, something neither witches nor Taoists could fully accomplish on their own.
Demons were the only ones naturally capable of forming binding mortal contracts—contracts forged in their name and power.
I learned about this from my succubus girlfriend in a past life. She had shown me how demonic contracts work, which inspired me to create my own version—the master scroll.
I even tested it once in that life, with the succubus as witness. It worked smoothly, but with a bad aftertaste in my soul.
Back then, my clauses were full of dramatic flair:
{ Rule 1. The Master’s Claim }
{From this moment forth, your flesh is mine.
Your bones march to my voice.
Your soul shackled to my shadow.
You are no longer man, but instrument—no longer sovereign, but servant.
You belong to me until the end of all things… or until I tire of you.}
But now, after learning the shortcuts, I just wrote this:
{ Rule 1: You belong to me.
Your body, your thoughts, your soul. You obey without question.}
That was the slave clause—full dominance, no conditions, no freedom.
For subordinates, I used something far more flexible:
{ Rule 1: You serve me for ___ moons. }
Time is agreed. Once it ends, the contract disappears.
The period of service would be discussed and agreed upon beforehand. Subordinate contracts guaranteed loyalty—but not blind obedience.
They were allowed to question my decisions, offer alternate methods, and interpret commands in ways they thought were more efficient.
It was still servitude, but with dignity and a bit of freedom.
Both scrolls were around A5 size. I tied the slave scroll with a green thread, and the subordinate scroll with a red one.
In my current stage, I could only create two contracts. If I had the chance to break into the Spirit realm, which was above the Foundation stage, I could double that.
My phone rang—the stove installation guy was coming to my house. But instead of bringing me to his boss, he handed me a bag containing $10,000 worth of cocaine and said,
“My boss wants to know if you truly have the Hollywood fix.”
He smiled kindly, mockery hidden beneath his tone.
“You just have to pay him back half. Keep the rest for yourself. You’ve got three days. If you fail, you owe him ten grand in damages.”
I snatched the bag from his hand. He winced, thinking something inside pricked him.
“I just need a day. Come back tonight. I’ll show you what I’m capable of.”
I said it flatly, annoyed at being looked down on, then walked away from the alley.
He snorted in derision, watching me enter my apartment. But I noticed—he didn’t leave the alley.
“He must want the trade route for himself. Like I’m going to give you that,”
I smirked, watching him from my window.
Less than three minutes later, he clutched his head in agony. He even shit himself before he managed to find the nearest toilet.
11 p.m. Julio—the stove guy—brought me to an abandoned warehouse outside South Pasadena. It took an hour to get there. He drove a 1992 Alfa Romeo 155.
Even though he made good money, he couldn’t afford to splurge on an attention-grabbing car—not with how much scrutiny he was under.
“Let’s go,” he said tiredly, parking outside the brightly lit warehouse.
I nodded, pretending to be anxious and fearful as I followed him.
He brought me to the upper floor—the old supervisor’s office, now renovated.
“Is that the new kid? Put him with the rest—”
A bald executive with a face tattoo, gold chain, and golden grill on his teeth barked out.
“No. He’s not for manufacturing. He’s for sales,” Julio cut in.
“Oh? Really? Him?” The drug dealer stared at me. “That tiny guy? You’re telling me people would buy from him? How old is he even?”
“He’s—”
“I’m 18. I just look 12 because my mom’s a midget,” I interrupted, showing bravery.
The excuse worked wonders. The drug dealer grinned.
“Ahh! I see. That’s why you’re so short. You’re half midget!” He laughed mockingly before opening the door to the office.
Inside sat a dashing middle-aged man with a head full of hair, a dignified expression, and dressed in an expensive suit with a Rolex. He was smoking a cigar.
“Come in,” he said in a deep voice.
Crossing his legs together, he leaned backward and said, “I heard you have sold 10 grand of the product in just one day. I have high hopes for you. Why don’t you tell me more about your Hollywood connection?”
“Well, only a dumb person would do that.” I pretended to act tough while having visible nervousness on my face. The drug lord took the act seriously and guffawed.
“We have a smartass over here! Don’t worry. I like smart people. I don’t have to watch over them to make sure they stay in line. They usually do that themselves,” he said.
To be clear, I didn’t sell anything. In fact, I didn’t even leave my house. I flushed the cocaine down the toilet and used my cash to bait the drug dealer into the meeting.
“Welcome to the team.” He stood up and shook my hand roughly, while blowing cigar smoke on my face. I wanted to kill him right then and there, but I smiled and reciprocated his action.
He was a bit surprised and said, “You have quite a strong grip for a small person.”
“Well, I worked out,” I said childishly. He laughed again and patted me roughly on the shoulder. “I like you. But before you become an official member, I have to show you the consequences of failure.”
He led me down a narrow stairwell with rusted railings and flickering lights, the hum of industrial equipment growing louder with each step.
A heavy metal door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY screeched as he pulled it open.
The room beyond was a factory of suffering.
About twenty people—mostly teenagers, a few heartbreakingly young children—were shackled to long, steel assembly tables.
They worked with mechanical precision, stuffing tiny packets of heroin under harsh lighting. Some kids had bleeding fingers. Others coughed violently but didn’t stop working. The guards didn’t allow breaks.
Some of them looked no older than eight.
My stomach churned. I kept my face steady, letting my hands tremble just enough to look like fear. He watched me closely, reading my expression like a hawk. To him, I was barely keeping it together.
And he liked that.
He smiled with pride. “Most of them are here because they can’t pay their debts. So they work it off—with their bodies. You work hard, and you’ll never have to join them.”
He didn’t step inside. Just held the door open like a museum curator. Like it was a gallery of what happened to people who disappointed him.
But then—one of the kids saw me.
“O! Are you O!? Are you here to save us now!?” she cried out desperately, her voice cracking.
Chains clinked as she tried to crawl toward the door, her tiny legs shackled with iron cuffs.
My heart jumped. My mind short-circuited.
‘How?’
Before I could react, one of the guards strode over and slapped the girl across the face. She collapsed, dazed. The guard turned to the drug lord and bowed his head in apology.
The drug lord narrowed his eyes at the girl, cold and calculating. She whimpered, shrinking from his gaze.
“So sorry you had to see that,” he said to me, putting on a show of sympathy.
He said mockingly, “One of them started to create this image of a savior. They called him ‘O’ and claim he’s going to make all of us suffer one day. It’s been a month and their savior still hadn’t come, but they still believed in that stupid story.”
“She looks young. Did you really hire her to sell the drugs?” I asked, my voice low. The mask was slipping. My tone grew colder by the second.
He raised an eyebrow.
“No. That one—she’s paying her parents’ debt.”
“I see. And if she can’t pay it off?”
“Then I’ll sell her someplace else to recover the loss. Some people pay good money to entertain their… more degenerative kinks.” He smirked.
A slow-burning fury settled in my chest.
That’s when I saw her.
Another girl—this one around my age—wrapped her arms protectively around the younger child, shielding her from the guard.
Her body was thin, too thin, her skin ghost-pale. She had a rough bob cut that looked like someone had hacked her hair off with a dull knife. Her toenails were overgrown, caked with grime. Chains clinked as she shifted.
She turned her head toward me, and our eyes accidentally locked together.
Everything froze for me.
The noise, the smoke, the guards—gone. There was only her.
She had the same mole beneath her eye. The same haunted look.
That gaze—It reminded me of Isabella. Like there was an overlap between their two faces, even if they weren’t really similar.
“That one had run her uses. After two days, some guys will come back and pick her up,” he added, staring daggers at the girl like she was a pain in his ass.
“I see. So, you’re a green one,” I muttered to myself.
“What?” he asked, confused.
“Why don’t we go back to your office?” I told him.
He thought I was scared, scoffed, and led me away.
He sat back on his original chair as we entered, not realizing that everyone inside suddenly touched their necks. They felt like they had been bitten by a bug.
“We’ll discuss how much stock you have to unload… What are you doing?” he asked when he saw me taking out a dagger from my bag.
“Are you crazy?” he asked, bewildered.
I was in a room with six people. All had submachine guns on them—but I dared to take out a dagger? His mind couldn’t comprehend my decision.
“So, what are you really here for? Revenge?” he sneered.
“No. I’m just here to collect some money,” I said, walking toward him slowly.
He scoffed. “Kill this motherfucker.”
The men raised their guns — but it was already too late. The hair-thin needles on their necks had done their work. I’d flicked them in with a throwing technique the moment I stepped into the room.
“What are you doing? Shoot him!” the drug lord snapped, panicking as I drew closer.
I smiled. “They want to. But they can’t move.”
I leapt onto the table.
“Fuck—”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun, but it was too late. I kicked it away and I stabbed the dagger into his shoulder. Blood splattered on my face as I grinned maniacally.
“AHHH!”
He screamed as the fire-qi poison surged through his veins.
Within seconds, he dropped to the floor, thrashing like a man ablaze.
“AHHH!! AHHHH!!!”
His eyes bulged red. The veins across his body turned blue and bulged like cords. Smoke poured from his mouth. His hair singed. The stench of burning flesh filled the room.
I let him suffer for a bit as I rummaged through his table, seeing what’s in there. His voice became hoarse, and he almost fainted. Then, I finally decided to prick him with a golden needle, right at the center of his eyebrows.
“Hold still for a bit,” I told him as he kept squirming, almost making me stab him in the eye.
The poison weakened slightly from the partial antidote, allowing him to think clearly again.
“You—What the hell are you?!” he asked, fearfully. “Do—do you want my money? I’ll give you money!”
“I did want your money. But that was before. Now, I want your money and to make you suffer too,” I said with a devilish chuckle that deepened his fear.
“Now, sign here.” I took out the green scroll and handed it to him.
He opened it and read the scroll with ragged breaths, his brow furrowed as he processed the clauses.
[Rules of the Subordination Contract]
You belong to me.
Your body, your thoughts, your soul. You obey without question.
You cannot speak of me.
My name, my face, my orders—gone from your tongue. Silence is your leash. Any attempts to bypass the rules with creative maneuvering, and you’ll die instantly.
You follow every command.
Hesitation hurts. Disobedience burns.
You cannot leave orders behind.
No wills. No messages. No backup plans. You die empty.
You may flee far—but not free.
Beyond two hundred leagues, my voice fades. But the old commands remain. So does the silence.
If I die, you die.
No escape. My death pulls you into the dirt with me.
No one can break this.
Not gods. Not spells. Only I can undo the Pact.
He widened his eyes, hands trembling. “This… What kind of contract is this?”
“Can’t you read? It’s a subordination contract. If you sign this, then I’ll give you the antidote to the poison. Otherwise…”
I let him finish the sentence himself. The feeling of being burned alive lingered in his mind.
I had used my own experiences of being burned at the stake to craft that poison. It worked very effectively.
He signed the contract and stamped his thumbprint on the page. I don’t think he realized it was a magical contract. Well, that worked best for me.
The contract floated in the air, much to his astonishment. Then, it vanished into golden light particles. A green, illusionary chain appeared on his neck—connected to my hand.
“WHAT IS THIS?!” He gritted his teeth and tried to tear the chain off, but it vanished from view before he could grab it. He could sense it was there, but no matter what, he couldn’t remove it.
I gave him a skeptical look. “You chained the kids in the warehouse and turned them into slaves. Are you really asking what I did to you? Your mind couldn’t connect that yourself?”
“I’ll kill you—AHHH!” He slumped to the floor after lunging at me. The contract was already punishing him. It squeezed his soul, burned his entire body, and even rattled his bones.
I sat on the edge of the table, waiting for him to finally accept his fate.
“Have you come to terms with your current situation yet?” I asked gloatingly as I saw his lifeless eyes. I knocked on the wall, and found a hidden safe.
I cracked it pretty quickly and took out the keys from inside the safe while ignoring the gold bars, cashs, passwords and other valuable things inside.
“What do you want from me?” He asked while crouching on the floor.
“Retribution. And also, some money. Who’s handling your finances? Call him here.” I said before standing up and exited the room. “I’ll give you 30 minutes to bring them here. And remember. Snitches get… burned.”
I laughed as I went to the manufacturing room. The six guards still couldn’t move, standing still like statues in the room.
The drug lord felt like he was being puppeted by the contract and he gathered his allies quickly as the more he hesitated, the stronger the sense of burning would be.
There were an additional 4 guards inside the warehouse, all of which met their demise.
My dagger slashed their throats. Even if they didn’t die from the wound, the poison in the blade would’ve killed them still.
As I opened the warehouse door, I threw a blade to the guard who slapped the kid before. It penetrated his throat, causing him to choke on his own blood as he fell to the ground.
The kids inside were scared of me. I walked to the short kid who called me ‘O’ and asked, “How did you know that name?”
“What name? O–” Her eyes lit up and her fears melted away, “I was right?! You are O!”
“Yeah Yeah. So how did you know that name?” I asked again as I unlocked the chains on her legs before throwing the rest of the keys to the bob-cut girl beside him.
“Elena told me,” she said, pointing to the girl unlocking her own chain.
I raised an eyebrow and turned to the girl. She flinched, placing a hand over her chest, unable to meet my eyes.
“How?” I asked slowly.
The girl fidgeted. The energetic kid beside her grabbed my hand and explained, “Elena can’t speak. She’s mute.”
“Huh?” I blinked. Elena was gesturing with her hands — sign language, maybe. But I’d never learned that.
Then, something clicked in my senses. Elena… her sixth sense was nearly awakened.
A wave of disappointment swelled inside me.
“Oh. You’re a precog, huh? I didn’t think I’d meet another esper of your type here.”
‘She’s not her. What was I even expecting?’
The girls and the other kids exchanged confused, worried glances.
I sighed before addressing everyone, “Why don’t you all come with me to the office? We’ll figure something out.”
Comments
KingSpy25i .
Thank you for the great chapter 🙏
