Chapter 120 A Deal With The Devil
Chapter 120 A Deal With The Devil
“Does anyone know where that laboratory is?” Iryoku’s voice rang down the row of cells.
Mr. K stiffened, eyes flicking to him. For the first time he realized Iryoku wasn’t only trying to escape—he was truly interested in the demon.
Most prisoners kept their eyes down, trembling, as if daring fate to take them. Only the faint clink of chains answered.
“If you tell me, I’ll kill that bastard Sigil,” Iryoku said, his voice low and cold. “And if you want to end your suffering, I can do that for you now.”
Mr. K’s body trembled. He stared at Iryoku without moving. “Don’t. These people deserve to be free.”
A young man limped forward, hunched and shaking. His voice was barely more than a sob. “Sir… I want to die. I don’t want to suffer anymore. Please—I’m scared…”
“Tell me,” Iryoku demanded.
The prisoner glanced around, eyes wild. “Go back past the second tunnel… turn there… then follow the lower corridor… that’s as far as I remember. Please—no more—”
Before the man could finish, Iryoku moved. In a single, swift strike he ended the man’s life. Then, without a word, he gently lowered the corpse to the stone and stepped back.
Mr. K opened his mouth, then closed it. They listened to the hollow echo through the cells—the only answer left in that place was silence. The people here didn’t have the will to keep living.
Iryoku grabbed Mr. K’s arm. “Let’s go, puss.”
Mr. K jerked away, anger flaring. “What exactly is your purpose? What are you trying to accomplish?”
Iryoku fixed him with a death stare. “You don’t know just how much I want to kill you right now. If it weren’t for you I’d be with my women, enjoying life. So don’t meddle.” He was fuming.
Mr. K met his glare. “My purpose wasn’t to hurt you—initially,” the handsome catman confessed, his face still half-covered by the black mouth mask, the rest revealed in pale scars. He held Iryoku’s stare. “Would you be willing to work with me? Help me kill Alexander Maxwell—the Death Tree—and save the slaves in this place? In exchange, I’ll help you find the demon.”
“Hahaha!” Iryoku barked a laugh. “You noble assholes always think people gotta jump when you say so. You’re not back in your city, and you sure as hell don’t have your fancy gang here. And if you didn’t want to hurt us, then why did you attack? You and that damned bald old man too. You clearly want revenge for your prick friend Leon. Makes me question you—you act noble, like a good person, but you’ve been dealing with bastards like him. Especially that Leon…”
The catman didn’t flinch. “I won’t blame you for Leon—that child lost his way,” he said quietly, frowning as if forcing himself to say it. “So please—help me, and I’ll help you as well.”
Iryoku tightened his grip on the dagger, weighing his options. “I don’t trust you... and even if I did, these people don’t have the will to live, let alone to move…” He glanced again at the demi-human child with the missing hand.
Mr. K’s eyes hardened. “Like I told you—we kill Alexander. Then we tear down what he built and free whoever’s left.” His voice came rasher now, edged with anger.
Iryoku chuckled, mocking. “I still don’t see any gain for me—only gain for you and your agenda.”
The catman met his gaze. “What do you want? I’ll agree to it, as long as it doesn’t go against innocent people.”
“Then I’ll tell you.” Iryoku’s mouth spread into a wide grin. “You will be my bodyguard—my servant.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Mr. K crossed his arms.
“I’m not done. This isn’t over. I want to kill that bastard king and his sons—those fuckers dared—” Iryoku’s mouth clenched. “They almost raped my women in front of me. They stole my weapon. I will kill every one of them. Once it’s over—and only once my women and I have returned home—you’ll be free. I won’t hold it against your people so long as they never touch my women. Comprende?” He finished with a deadly, immovable glare.
Mr. K stood inches from him. He noticed Iryoku was slightly shorter, yet the young man radiated a ruthless, unbreakable will—limitless and wild.
He remembered seeing this same young man fight in his tournament—displaying incredible skill and sharp analysis. Iryoku had bested one of his strongest warriors in hand-to-hand combat without relying on any powers. Even though his fighting style looked theatrical and erratic, Mr. K had seen the undeniable strength within him. He remembered the women who surrounded Iryoku—how they cared for him deeply. He’d been labeled a criminal by the local government, but Mr. K still harbored doubts about those claims.
Mr. K slowly lifted his hand, curling his fingers into the shape of a claw.
Iryoku frowned. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” he muttered, thinking the catman was either mocking him or getting ready to fight again.
“This,” Mr. K said calmly, “is how demi-humans swear an oath. Open your palm.”
Iryoku hesitated, then extended his hand. Mr. K reached forward and lightly clawed across his open palm. For the first time, Iryoku noticed the catman’s small but sharp claws. Then Mr. K opened his own hand, prompting Iryoku to do the same and return the gesture.
When his nails brushed the catman’s skin, Iryoku felt how surprisingly soft his hand was—though marked with tiny scars, proof of a life far from gentle.
Both men pushed deeper into the dark prison tunnels. Retracing some of their steps, they passed the area where they had fought the demonic dwarf. This time, they tried to sneak by. The air shook with the clash of steel and monstrous roars—executioners and warriors still locked in battle against the beast. Slipping past the chaos, Iryoku and Mr. K pressed on.
Soon they encountered more foes. Executioners emerged from the shadows, weapons gleaming with faint Leben. The two cut them down one after another. Mr. K noticed the shift in Iryoku’s movements—the edge sharpening in his strikes. There was less restraint now, more fury uncoiling with every blow.
Iryoku left a butchered guard writhing on the floor—arms, legs, even his manhood severed. He loomed over the mutilated man, dagger in hand.
“Tell me,” he hissed. “Where’s Sigil’s laboratory? Where’s the demon? Tell me, and I’ll end your suffering in one hit!”
“Ahhhh! Aahhrghh!” the executioner screamed.
Iryoku kicked the bleeding wound where the man’s manhood had been. “Fucking tell me!” he spat.
“Over there… go back… the second tunnel… return… past the—” the man stammered.
Iryoku crouched down, took it all in, and with a single, clean slash, tore out the executioner’s tongue.
“Ahgaghggamm!” the man gurgled, left alive to suffer in agony.
“Let’s go,” Iryoku said coldly, moving forward.
Mr. K followed close behind.
After some time, they reached a wide, open cavern.
“Hmm… this is one of the rooms near the entrance,” Mr. K muttered, scanning the shadows.
Iryoku said nothing, pressing forward. The place felt familiar—he remembered the silhouette of that thin man standing here, choosing prisoners like cattle.
They both stopped when their eyes caught the shape of massive metal doors ahead.
“This looks important,” Iryoku murmured.
Mr. K’s ears twitched as he tilted his head, listening. “Someone’s coming… from the way we came,” he whispered.
Thinking fast, Iryoku hissed, “Come—jump. Quickly. Hide.”
Both men sprang upward, plastering themselves against the cavern ceiling, wedged between jagged stalactites. Cloaked in shadow, they stilled their breathing, killing every trace of presence.
Below, a column of warriors marched through. At their center, Iryoku spotted Magnus—the blond man—striding with arrogant ease, flanked by his entourage of women. Naked, they clung to him like ornaments.
The group halted before the great gate.
“Sigil! Open the gate—we’re here!” Magnus barked.
Silence.
His face twisted, veins bulging as his eyes went wild.
Behind him, Vadia giggled, her voice dripping with mockery. “Seriously, Magny… you get all whiny pretty quick.”