UmbralWhite (TheFrozenMoogle)
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Chapter 54
🕑 Added 2025-03-26 13:38:49 +0000 UTCThere was an art to negotiation.
It wasn’t just about knowing what you wanted. It was about knowing what the other party wanted—and, more importantly, what they feared losing.
I leaned back in my chair, watching Barbra with measured patience.
She sat across from me, legs crossed, the picture of effortless confidence. Barbatos, the Queen of Beasts, Dominus of Wild Things. The sharp-toothed devil who had clawed her way to the top, one contract at a time.
She preferred I call her Barbra—a personal touch, something that turned formal discussions into something more… intimate. It was a small power move, one that tried to set the stage as hers.
I wasn’t about to let her have that.
A contract had brought us here, but neither of us had put pen to paper yet. That was the game—to see who gave in first.
Barbra tapped a single, clawed finger against the armrest. "You’re quiet."
I offered a small smile. "You’re impatient."
She grinned. "Not at all. I just like to know when someone is stalling."
I wasn’t stalling. I was waiting for her to speak first.
She exhaled through her nose, amusement lacing her expression. "Fine. Let’s get to it, then. We both want something out of this, so let’s not pretend otherwise."
"Agreed," I said.
Barbra stretched lazily, as if this was just another game to her. "I’ll start. First demand—I want you to transcribe a book."
My brow twitched slightly. "In Danatallion’s Domain?"
"Exactly." She rested her chin on one hand. "You’re already inside his Halls. You have access to texts even I can’t retrieve. There’s one book in particular I want—one that can only be rewritten by someone like you."
I didn’t need to ask why she couldn’t do it herself. The rules of Danatallion’s Domain were strict. Books were alive here, shifting and twisting in ways that made simple copying impossible for most.
But me?
I had Lexicon Manipulation. I could enter books. I could carve their secrets into something new.
Still, I didn’t agree immediately.
"What’s the book?" I asked.
Barbra’s grin widened. "Oh, you’ll love it. As we’ve already established. We are here to talk price. You know that you don’t require anything more than access to his halls.”
Barbra didn’t wait. "Second," she continued, "I want a binding."
I narrowed my eyes. "Be specific."
"A thread of you, tied to me," she said smoothly. "Not a chain. Not a collar. Just a... connection."
She watched me carefully, waiting to see if I’d react.
I didn’t.
This was the real demand. The book was valuable, yes, but this was what she truly wanted—a direct tether. Something that would keep me in her orbit.
"A thread," I echoed.
"A small one," she said. "Nothing too binding, of course. Just enough that I’ll always be in your thoughts."
A clever lie.
Even the smallest connection between us would make influence inevitable. It would mean that, even without realizing it, I’d drift toward her expectations.
It would mean that, in the war for my loyalty, she’d always have a foot in the door.
"No," I said.
Barbra’s lips twitched. "Oh? So quick to reject it?"
"You’re asking for too much," I said plainly. "And we both know it."
Barbra exhaled, pretending to look disappointed. "You don’t trust me."
I smiled. "Not even a little."
She laughed. "Fair."
That didn’t mean she dropped the demand. She was just restructuring it in her mind.
And I wasn’t done yet.
"Third," she said, "I want the agreement to be favorable to me."
I raised a brow. "That’s an insultingly vague demand."
She smirked. "I know. But the point is simple—I will not lose in this deal, Alexander. I don’t do charity."
I stared at her for a long moment. Then I let out a slow breath. "Neither do I."
The room was still.
Now, it was my turn.
I straightened slightly, folding my hands before me. "I want your Sigil."
Barbra’s playful expression shattered in an instant.
Her gaze sharpened, and for the first time since this conversation began, she looked truly serious.
"You don’t lack ambition," she murmured.
"You knew that before we sat down," I replied.
Barbra’s Sigil wasn’t just a symbol. It was a piece of her authority—the mark of the Queen of Beasts. With it, I would gain access to something few mortals ever touched. Beast-speak. Dominion over lesser creatures. And, possibly, something even she didn’t intend to grant me.
She tapped a single clawed finger against the table. "And what," she said slowly, "makes you think I’d ever grant you that?"
"You want a thread of me," I said simply. "I want a thread of you."
The weight of those words settled deeply between us.
For a moment, she didn’t speak.
Then, very quietly, she laughed.
"Oh, Alexander," she purred. "You’re dangerous."
"Only if you let me be."
Barbra hummed in amusement. "Go on. What else?"
I didn’t hesitate. "I want a tutor."
Her brow arched slightly.
"You’re not the only one who wants to guide me," I continued. "Pandora’s Box has already sent three Dominus-level mentors to oversee my progress. I need balance. Someone who isn’t tied to them. Someone with a different perspective."
Barbra chuckled. "And that someone is me?"
"You’re ruthless," I said. "And you probably don’t coddle your students."
Her grin was sharp. "You say that like it’s a good thing."
"It is," I admitted. "I don’t want a teacher who sees me as a tool. I want a teacher who sees me as a threat."
Barbra laughed. A deep, satisfied sound. "Oh, you just keep getting more interesting, don’t you?"
"Do we have a deal?" I asked.
She exhaled slowly, considering me.
Then, finally, she nodded. "We have a deal."
But just as I reached for the contract, she spoke again.
"One last thing," she murmured. "After you ascend—four full Shells."
I stilled.
"Four?" I repeated.
"The mortal timeline is too short," she said simply. "I want four Shells with you as Dominus."
That was a long time. Far too long.
She wasn’t just asking to be my tutor. She was asking to shape my first steps as a god.
I clenched my jaw. "Two."
"Four," she countered smoothly.
"Two and a half."
She clicked her tongue. "I won’t go lower than three."
Silence.
Then, slowly, I extended my hand.
Barbra grinned. "Good boy."
Our hands clasped, and the contract sealed itself in fire and ink.
A binding. A bargain. A future sealed in ambition.
And neither of us looked away.
You have sealed a contract with a Legal Entrant.
You no longer bear the nightly curse.
You are free to pursue books at your leisure.
You may enter the library at any time.
Thank you for your entertainment, Young Alexander. I shall be in touch.
Thank you, Kevkebyem Lekvedyem Benyeyr.
I can not wait for you to find what tales you write under the starlight.
- Your Immortal Host, Danatallion
***
Barbatos crossed her legs, fingers drumming idly against the worn leather of the armrest. The dim glow of shifting sigils illuminated the room, casting eerie shadows against the aged stone walls. Across from her, Lemengton slouched in his seat, his threadbare robes hanging loosely off his thin frame. His presence, unassuming and disheveled, had always been a deception—one that few ever saw through until it was far too late.
"You owe me," Barbatos said, her golden eyes narrowing. "You owe me so much. Do you even realize how much power that contract gives him?"
Lemengton’s lips curled into a lazy smile. "Oh, I do," he said, voice a slow drawl, betraying no urgency. "He’s already been using it—paper birds as his eyes, bees and insects scurrying about, spiders weaving their webs. He is watching everything. And, despite your protests, having you as his broker was the best possible outcome."
Barbatos leaned forward, sharp nails tapping against the table. "Then enlighten me," she said. "Why did you want me to be the one to invoke the contract? You, of all people—the Gatekeeper. The one who decides who is worthy to challenge the mortal population. And yet, you nudged me toward him. Why?"
Lemengton’s smirk widened, but he did not immediately answer. He let the silence linger, heavy, thick with meaning. Then, softly, he said:
"You heard it, didn’t you?"
Barbatos stilled.
"He awoke Star Mana."
A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face before she scoffed, shaking her head. "So? You did too."
Lemengton let out a low chuckle. "And yet, I was not the reason you lost your breath just now, was I?"
Barbatos exhaled sharply, annoyance flashing in her gaze. "We don’t respect you because of your Star Mana," she countered. "We respect you because of your immense power, your Authority. You’re a half-step from Transcendence. If all it took was Star Mana, there would be a dozen of you."
"True," Lemengton admitted, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his goblet. "But that’s not why I asked you to broker that contract."
He let his words hang for a moment before leaning forward, eyes glinting in the dim light. "Tell me, Barbatos—do you know when I first acquired my Star Mana?"
Barbatos frowned. It was an odd question, but the weight of it sent an unease curling in her stomach.
"No," she admitted, cautious.
"Four Shells ago."
The words were simple, but they crashed against her like a tidal wave.
Her breath hitched. "Four… Shells… ago?"
Lemengton gave a slow nod, watching her expression shift, watching as she pieced it together.
Star Mana is the threshold. The step before something greater. Only the Transcendents wield what comes after.
But if Lemengton had only acquired Star Mana four Shells ago, then—
"You didn’t awaken it as a mortal," she whispered, realization dawning.
Lemengton tilted his head. "Only five ever have. I was not one of them."
Barbatos stared at him, mind racing. Most beings had to transcend the mortal realm before their mana evolved to that level. Star Mana wasn’t something a mortal Shell could contain—at least, not naturally.
And yet—
Her fingers curled into a fist.
"Then what does that mean for him?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.
Lemengton’s smile faded slightly, his gaze turning distant. "Mana evolves as we ascend," he murmured. "Each step forward forces a transformation. But he… he’s already evolving before he’s even taken that step."
Barbatos exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "That shouldn’t be possible."
"And yet, it is."
A heavy silence stretched between them.
Her mind spun through the possibilities. Star. Dimension. Crystal. Nature.
Four powerful forces, each shaping reality in its own way. Star was potential untethered, reaching beyond what was known. Dimension was depth, the foundation of space itself. Crystal was permanence, structure, refinement. Nature, nature was more than life. It was the ecosystems. It was the cycle of predation. The hunt.
Individually, they were already forces to be reckoned with.
But together?
Barbatos swallowed, salivating at the thought.
"He’s going to have it, isn’t he?" she whispered. Her voice was hushed now, reverent. "His mana… it’s going to evolve."
Lemengton leaned back, watching her reaction, as if savoring the moment. Then, with quiet certainty, he nodded.
"They will be truly unique."
***
“Sire.” Lumivis’s voice carried a rare edge of concern. Not the usual measured skepticism, nor the ever-present undercurrent of amusement. No, this was something different. Genuine worry. “Do you truly believe your deal was wise?”
I exhaled slowly, rolling the words over in my head before I responded. “Lumivis, you once told me that my principle for condensing miasma likely lay in the balance of exchange. The rise and fall of prices, the weight of trade, the flow of value. I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but now... I do.” I turned to face him, my hands clasped behind my back. “I felt it.”
His golden eyes, swirling with the fractal complexity of a being far beyond me, narrowed slightly. “Do tell.” His voice dropped from worried to monotone, slipping into his default analytical mode.
I smirked. He couldn’t help himself.
“My miasma condensed from the deal,” I said simply. “From the negotiation, the profit I gained. Go ahead, take a look. Search my inner self.”
Without hesitation, the world around us blurred.
The barracks suite, with its mockery of opulence—a luxury den masquerading as a base of paramilitary operations—dissolved into the radiant depths of my domain. My soul.
We stood within an ever-shifting realm of color. Once, it had resembled a fractured solar system, an array of celestial bodies orbiting a singular white paper lantern that pretended to be a star. But now? Now, it had changed.
The landscape was vibrant, alive in a way it had never been before. Trees woven from crystallized starlight stretched toward a nebula-painted sky, their branches heavy with prismatic fruit. Vines snaked through fields of luminescent flora, the petals shifting in a mesmerizing play of color, as if each one contained a piece of the cosmos itself. The ground, once ethereall, was now solid gemstone, sharper and more defined.
I inhaled deeply, the air tinged with something new. Something rich. A weight, an essence that hadn’t been there before.
I felt stronger.
Lumivis remained silent for a moment, scanning the world with his inhuman perception. When he finally spoke, his tone was measured. “I feel it. The trees are healthier. The stars are brighter. The gemstones that make up the flora—sharper. Your world is maturing.” He turned his golden gaze to me. “It is highly likely you’ll manifest fauna soon enough.”
I blinked. “Wait. What?”
His expression remained unreadable. “You didn’t know? Once you condense your miasma to the second level—once you move from one to two—you’ll start forming your first piece of animal life. It won’t be anything particularly impressive,” he admitted, tilting his head. “A false simulacrum at most. The equivalent of an artist’s drunken rendition of a creature from memory. But it is a sign of growth.”
I frowned, glancing at the swirling nebulae above. I had spent so long fighting for control over my Arte, my abilities, my very existence. And yet, this evolution had happened almost naturally. Through trade.
Through a contract.
Barbra.
I let out a slow breath, my mind snapping back to her. The deal I had struck with her. The Queen of Beasts.
She had wanted much—control, a binding, a favor tipped in her direction. But I had not been without my own demands. And if this world, my soul, was anything to go by, I had made the right call.
“So,” Lumivis mused, observing the prismatic forests around us. “What form do you think your first creature will take?”
I let out a breath, watching the light shimmer along the crystalline leaves. “…No idea.”
A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “I do hope it’s something entertaining.”
I rolled my eyes. “Knowing my luck? Probably a bookworm. Literally.”
Lumivis chuckled, but the laughter faded as he fixed me with a piercing gaze. “You gained power,” he acknowledged. “But was it worth the price?”
I turned my attention skyward. The nebulae swirled, reflecting my thoughts in their chaotic beauty.
“…I guess we’ll find out.”
Comments
RedLeaf
Wheels, within wheels, within wheels, ... Where all those wheels will carry one, nobody knows...
