I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 478: How Many People Does it Take to Deliver a Message.

The demons approached Floor Nine’s entrance casually. They made this journey countless times.

Five of them, all gray-skinned and heavily muscled, carrying empty sacks meant for ore and metal scraps they’d collect from the corrupted temple’s ruins.

The Iron Soot Clan sent foraging parties down to the lower floors weekly. Floor Nine’s undead rarely bothered with physical materials, which made it perfect for scavenging iron, copper, and occasionally silver from the temple’s crumbling structure.

"Think we’ll find anything good this time?" one demon asked, adjusting the sack on his shoulder. His voice carried the rough quality of someone who spent their days near forge fires.

"Same as always," another replied. "Scrap metal, maybe some decent iron if we’re lucky. The boss wants three hundred pounds before we head back."

They reached the portal.

A shimmering gateway that should have shown the corrupted temple’s dark interior.

But instead of the familiar view, they found only a solid barrier. The portal’s surface had become opaque, refusing passage.

The lead demon frowned, reaching out to touch the barrier. His hand met resistance like pressing against stone. "What the hell? The portal’s blocked."

"That’s not possible," another demon said, moving closer to examine the gateway. "Floor portals don’t just stop working. Did someone seal it?"

"Who would seal Floor Nine? There’s nothing down there except undead and ruins."

They gathered around the portal, confusion turning to concern as they realized the implications.

If Floor Nine was sealed, that meant someone with authority had claimed it.

And there were only a few types of entities in the tower with that kind of power.

Before any of them could voice this realization, a hand shot through the portal’s surface.

Erupting through the barrier like it didn’t exist, fingers spreading wide before clamping down on the lead demon’s skull with crushing force.

The demon’s scream cut off as the grip tightened, his hands scrambling at the wrist holding him, but finding no way to break the grip.

The arm was covered in black demonic scales, making it appear as if the void itself had reached through to claim him.

His golden eyes gleamed in the dim light of Floor Ten’s entrance, tracking each demon with predatory focus that made it clear he saw them not as people but as targets.

The Crimson Sight earrings pulsed faintly at his ears, marking each demon’s location even as they stumbled backward in shock.

The transformation from his normal appearance to what stood before them was striking. His right arm remained covered in those black scales from fingertip to shoulder, golden lightning crackling along the demonic flesh.

His other hand was casually placed at his side, yet his posture indicated a readiness to act promptly.

"Please," the captured demon managed, his voice strangled by the grip compressing his skull. "We’re just smiths. Just here to gather materials. We didn’t..."

Jack’s expression didn’t change. His voice, when he spoke, sent chills down their spines. "I have a question for you. A simple one, really."

The other four demons had frozen in place, their flight instincts warring with the knowledge that running from a predator often triggered the chase.

Their gray skin had paled to almost white, muscles locked despite their physical strength being useless against what they faced.

"How many people," Jack asked, his golden eyes fixed on the demon he held, "does it take to deliver a message?"

The captured demon’s eyes widened with horrified understanding.

His mouth opened to answer, the word forming even as his survival instincts screamed at him to stay silent.

"One," the demon whispered.

"Correct," Jack replied.

The other four demons broke and ran.

They scattered in different directions with the desperate speed of beings who knew death was coming but couldn’t help trying to outrun it anyway. Their boots pounded against stone as they fled toward corridors that branched off from the entrance chamber.

Jack didn’t chase them.

He raised his left hand and snapped his fingers.

[Static Snare]

Four spheres of compressed golden lightning materialized above the fleeing demons’ heads. Each orb was the size of a fist, crackling with electrical discharge that made the air smell like burning copper.

The spheres didn’t explode outward in traditional blasts. Instead, they released their energy downward in focused columns that struck each demon directly in the skull. The lightning didn’t just electrocute.

It cooked them from the inside out, superheating brain matter in milliseconds while the external flesh remained relatively intact.

All four demons dropped simultaneously, their bodies hitting stone with wet thuds that echoed through the chamber.

Smoke rose from their eye sockets and open mouths, the scent of charred meat mixing with the air in a combination that made the surviving demon gag.

The entire execution had taken three seconds from the moment they started running.

Jack released his grip on the surviving demon’s skull, letting the creature collapse to his knees.

The messenger clutched at his head, feeling for damage that wasn’t there.

Jack had been careful not to crack a bone, apply enough pressure to make escape impossible.

"You’re going to deliver that message now," Jack said, his tone conversational despite the four corpses cooling in front of him.

"Walk back to your castle. Find whoever leads your clan. Tell them exactly what you saw here."

The demon nodded frantically, his entire body trembling as he processed what had just happened to his companions. "Yes. Yes, I’ll tell them. I’ll..."

"You’ll tell them," Jack interrupted, his golden eyes boring into the messenger’s skull, "that the Soul Warden has come to collect. The lower floors are sealed. That Floor Ten is next."

His smile was visible despite the cold fury underlying every word. "And you’ll tell them that anyone who wants to negotiate their survival should prepare an offering worthy of consideration."

The scaled arm shifted back to normal flesh as Jack spoke, the black demonic transformation receding until only pale skin remained.

But the demonstration had served its purpose.

The messenger had seen what Jack could become, what waited beneath the human exterior.

"Now go," Jack commanded. "Run fast. Run directly to your master. And pray you reach him before I get bored of waiting."

The demon scrambled backward, his legs nearly failing him as survival instincts finally overrode paralysis.

He turned and ran, his footsteps echoing through corridors that led deeper into Floor Ten’s territories.

Jack watched him go, his expression neutral as the sound faded into the distance.

Behind him, reality folded as his party stepped through the portal.

Rhys emerged first, riding on Brutus’s broad shoulders, his exhaustion evident despite the week of rest he’d been granted.

The young tempest mage’s eyes widened as he took in the four corpses and the scent of cooked flesh.

Slyph hovered near Rhys’s head, her green aura dimming slightly as she processed the scene. "You killed them before we even arrived."

"I sent a message," Jack corrected. "Four deaths to ensure one messenger reaches his destination with proper motivation."

Pho stepped through next, his blank white eyes tracking the burn patterns on the corpses with professional assessment. "The precision required to strike four moving targets simultaneously without area damage is impressive."

"I’ve had practice," Jack replied.

Stormfang materialized in a flash of yellow lightning, the blessed wyvern’s star-bright eyes.

Now burning red from the binding, tracking the corridor where the messenger had fled.

The creature’s wings were fully healed, the hole Jack’s arrow had created completely regenerated through the Soul Link’s power.

"Master," Stormfang rumbled, its voice carrying the cultured accent it had retained despite the binding. "Shall I pursue the messenger? Ensure he delivers your message properly?"

"No," Jack said. "Terror is more effective than certainty right now. The clan needs time to panic, to make mistakes born from fear rather than a calculated response."