Chapter 93 Devil’s blood money
1069 Words
The woman winced at the grating voice, her brow furrowing before she finally spoke.
“I’ve been under house arrest this whole time—barely allowed outside. Nothing particularly noteworthy has happened.”
“I’ve got nothing to tell you.”
“Oh? Hahahahaha!” The voice erupted into laughter again, echoing through the suffocating blackness.
“You’re actually locked up? I figured someone with your level of connections could do whatever they wanted!”
“I don’t care about your excuses—that’s your problem. What matters is that you stay loyal to the Lord. Only then will He—”
“Since when did I ever pledge loyalty to your Lord?” she snapped, cutting him off. “This has always been a transaction.”
“Hah! Right, right—just a transaction!” the voice cackled in agreement. “But whether you call it a deal or devotion… the Lord only grants His power to *servants*.”
The words struck deep. She fell silent, refusing to respond.
The voice pressed on, impatient now.
“Enough philosophy. Get to the point. If that old man’s nearby, I could be in real danger.”
“The Day of the Lord’s true descent draws closer. We must act—more than ever.”
“Now, tell me something useful. Or have you lost your taste for power?”
At the word *power*, her clear mind clouded instantly. Her eyes gleamed with raw greed, her expression twisting into something feverish.
That sudden, intoxicating surge of strength—it was more addictive than any drug on Earth.
Once you’d felt it, walking away was nearly impossible.
After a long hesitation, her voice came out strained, already slipping from reason:
“All I’ll say… is that you should watch out for one person.”
“Who?” The voice sharpened with interest.
“Adam Williams.” Her tone carried unusual weight.
“Adam… who?” The figure clearly had no idea.
An awkward, heavy silence stretched between them—so thick it nearly choked the air.
Just as the tension threatened to freeze the void solid, she spoke again.
“He’s a first-year student. Exceptional talent. If nothing goes wrong, he’ll likely become another Ice Queen-level prodigy.”
The darkness went still for two full seconds—then burst into mocking laughter.
“Wow. Coming from *you*, calling someone a ‘genius’ and using ‘Ice Queen’ instead of just ‘Diana’? That’s new.”
“Fine. Noted. Anything else?”
She paused for a long time before asking quietly,
“Are you planning to move against Orienta?”
“So what if we are? Do you actually *care*? Heh heh heh HAHAHA!”
She said nothing.
“Listen,” the voice hissed, now dripping with temptation, “a name no one’s heard of won’t buy you power.”
“What’s Orienta planning lately?”
Again, she remained silent.
After another stretch of quiet, a cold snort echoed through the dark—followed by a small, violet orb of light hurtling toward her.
“Aaah—nngh!”
The glow enveloped her instantly. She gasped, trembling, her face flushing crimson as her body arched involuntarily. Conscious control slipped away.
To an outside observer, her expression would’ve been unreadable—caught between agony and ecstasy, writhing in silent torment.
In the endless dark, her hands roamed over her own body, uncertain where to rest—desperate to touch, to feel, to relieve.
The voice gave one final, disdainful huff… then vanished.
He hadn’t gotten useful intel—but he’d delivered the “gift” of power anyway.
She was still useful. And if she grew dependent on that rush? Even better.
***
Inside the dimly lit university shuttle…
“STRIVE! FIGHT! SACRIFICE EVERYTHING FOR HUMANITY’S FUTURE!”
“STRIVE! FIGHT!”
A ridiculously over-the-top robotic voice blared through the cabin, jolting two sleeping figures awake.
Only Adam and Kenny remained on the bus. Levin had bailed hours ago.
Normally, he’d sleep in the vehicle during field ops—but after enduring a full evening of Adam and Kenny’s antics, he’d checked into a nearby hotel instead.
Kenny had to stay—he was on official duty as the mission’s recorder. Adam just thought sleeping on the bus was comfortable enough to skip paying for a room.
So the night had turned into an impromptu road trip: cards, online games, junk food—the works.
Adam groggily sat up from his reclined seat and grabbed the squawking comms unit.
“Since when do comms units have ringtones?!”
He answered—and was immediately blasted by Levin’s voice.
“What are you doing?!”
“I, uh… just woke up,” Adam mumbled.
“What time do you think it is?! I’m sending you coordinates. Get over there and assess the situation.”
Adam glanced around the darkened cabin. Last night, he and Kenny had draped heavy tarps over all the windows. He had no idea what time it was.
“Why do *I* have to go…?” he grumbled.
“Less whining! Who’s the instructor here? You really think you’re getting a free pass on this trip?”
Ten minutes later—after a barrage of Levin’s yelling—Adam trudged off the bus, leaving Kenny passed out drunk in the driver’s seat.
It was high noon.
Yet the streets were eerily empty. A chill hung in the air, unnatural and sharp.
At the designated location, Adam spotted Henry immediately—standing alone on a street that reeked of wrongness.
“Boss?” Henry said, startled, comms unit in hand.
Adam scanned the area. No hostiles. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s wrong with *me*,” Henry said, pointing to the ground. “It’s… this.”
A single hundred-dollar bill lay flat on the pavement—unweighted, yet pinned down as if magnetized to the earth.
“I asked locals. These keep showing up.”
“But no one dares pick them up anymore. They call it… ‘the Devil’s blood money.’”
“I felt strange energy radiating from it. Didn’t know how to handle it, so…” Henry’s face was grim.
Adam gave him a deadpan stare, then bent down and picked up the bill. He even rubbed it between his fingers like he was checking for counterfeits.
“Devil’s money?” Adam smirked. “Fine. I’ll take it.”
- Writer
