I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 485: If We Attack

Footsteps echoed through the castle corridor.

The Clan Master emerged from the great hall’s entrance, his nine-foot frame filling the doorway.

Charcoal-gray skin stretched over muscles built from decades of forge work.

His discerning gaze meticulously surveyed the courtyard, reflecting the seasoned judgment of an individual who has adeptly navigated complex circumstances for three centuries.

Behind him came the Third Tier Emissary, crimson skin marked with elaborate tattoos that identified his noble status.

Seven feet tall, lean compared to the smiths around him, but carrying himself with the arrogance of someone who believed rank equaled power.

Both demons stopped when they saw the courtyard.

Fifty guards on their knees or frozen in terror.

The spokesman’s corpse was cooling on the stone, a hole in his chest where his heart had been.

And standing in the center of it all, blood still drying on his lips, was Jack Kaiser.

He observed their arrival with the intense focus characteristic of a predator assessing its quarry.

"Stop this at once!" the Emissary barked, his voice carrying the command of someone used to being obeyed. "You have no authority to..."

"I recognize those markings," Jack interrupted, his tone clinical as his gaze fixed on the tattoos covering the Emissary’s crimson skin.

"Third Tier clan. Interesting. Tell me, did you know someone called Daddy?"

The Emissary’s expression shifted from outrage to confusion. "What? Who..."

"Daddy of the Third Tier," Jack continued, examining his nails as if the conversation bored him. "Big demon. Lots of bravado. Thought he could intimidate a Soul Warden by getting in my face and making threats."

He looked up, golden eyes gleaming. "My raven ate him alive. Took about fourteen seconds. The screaming stopped around the second nine, but Corvin kept going. T

He is quite a thorough bird."

The Emissary’s crimson skin paled. "You’re lying. Daddy was..."

"Torn apart by spectral ravens in front of hundreds of spectators at the Eternal Coliseum," Jack finished. "Messy death. Taught everyone watching what happens when you mistake confidence for capability."

The Clan Master’s dull red eyes widened slightly. His hand moved to the Emissary’s shoulder, gripping with enough force to make the smaller demon flinch. "We should discuss terms. Negotiate..."

"There’s nothing to negotiate," the Emissary snapped, shaking off the grip. "This human is bluffing. He killed one smith, and now he thinks..."

"Four smiths at the entrance," Jack corrected. "Cooked their brains in milliseconds. Then one here in the courtyard."

He gestured at the kneeling guards. "And I broke the will of twenty more without touching them. So no, Emissary, I’m not bluffing."

The Clan Master took a step forward, his massive frame positioned deliberately between Jack and the Emissary. "Please. We can offer tribute. Materials. Weapons. Whatever you require to..."

"I require respect," Jack said, his voice dropping to a temperature that made frost seem warm. "Which means when I speak, you listen. When I give orders, you obey. And when I demonstrate power, you acknowledge it instead of pretending I’m something I’m not."

His golden eyes fixed on the Emissary. "Your colleague Daddy made the same mistake. Assumed that because he was Terror-class and I looked human, he could intimidate me into submission. How did that work out for him?"

The Emissary’s jaw clenched, tattoos seeming to pulse with the anger radiating from his frame. "You think killing one Terror-class demon makes you..."

"I think," Jack interrupted, "that you’re about to make the same fatal error he did. Confusing your rank within your clan’s hierarchy with actual power. Mistaking political authority for the capacity to survive, what I’ll do if you keep talking."

The Clan Master’s hand shot out again, this time gripping the Emissary’s shoulder hard enough that bone creaked. "Stop. Just stop talking."

"But he’s..."

"A Soul Warden who sealed nine floors and killed your colleague in front of witnesses," the Clan Master concluded, his tone conveying the definitive nature of an individual whose forbearance had been exhausted.

"Which means every word you speak that isn’t an apology or offer of service is bringing us closer to extinction."

The Emissary’s mouth opened, then closed. His crimson skin had paled to almost pink, the reality of the situation finally penetrating through layers of arrogance and assumed superiority.

Jack watched the exchange with clinical interest, his expression neutral despite the tension crackling through the courtyard. "The Clan Master, at least, understands what’s happening here."

He took a step forward. The kneeling guards flinched away despite already being on the ground, their survival instincts screaming warnings about getting closer to something that had just consumed one of their own.

"Here’s what’s going to happen," Jack said, his golden eyes moving between the Clan Master and the Emissary. "We’re going to walk into your great hall. We’re going to sit at your table. And we’re going to discuss terms for the Iron Soot Clan’s continued existence."

The Clan Master nodded immediately. "Of course. Whatever you..."

"And your Emissary friend here," Jack continued, his gaze fixing on the crimson-skinned demon, "is going to keep his mouth shut unless I ask him a direct question. Because the next time he interrupts me, I’m going to demonstrate exactly what happened to Daddy."

The threat hung in the air, backed by the corpse still cooling on the courtyard stone.

The Emissary’s tattoos pulsed with suppressed fury, but he managed a jerky nod. Survival instinct was finally overriding pride.

"Excellent," Jack said, his tone brightening as if they’d just agreed on dinner plans.

"Lead the way, Clan Master. Let’s see if your hospitality matches your smithwork."

The Clan Master turned without another word, his massive frame moving back toward the great hall’s entrance.

The Emissary pursued, his demeanor betraying a struggle between suppressed rage and emerging apprehension.

Behind Jack, his party fell into formation. Brutus was carrying Rhys on his shoulders, the young tempest mage’s exhausted face showing shock at how the confrontation had resolved.

Slyph’s green aura pulsed weakly, the wind spirit clearly struggling to process the casual brutality she’d witnessed.

Stormfang and the Ice Drake positioned themselves on either side of the group, their red eyes intently observing every demon in the courtyard with a focused gaze.

Father Caelen proceeded in silence, his demeanor offering no indication of his reflections on the recent events.

And at the rear, Loryn dragged Marcus Thorne by the slave collar.

The broken clan leader’s sunken eyes took in everything.

The kneeling guards, the cooling corpse, and Jack’s blood-stained lips.

Recognition of a pattern he’d lived through himself, now being inflicted on another clan that had made the mistake of underestimating Jack Kaiser.

They entered the great hall through massive doors that swung open as the Clan Master walked forward.

The Clan Master led them deeper into the hall, toward a section near the back where a long table dominated the space. Volcanic rock carved into a surface smooth enough to reflect the forge fires’ glow, with chairs sized for demons of various builds arranged around it.

As they walked, the Emissary leaned close to the Clan Master, his voice dropping to a whisper that Jack’s enhanced hearing picked up effortlessly.

"We need to do something," the Emissary hissed. "He doesn’t seem that strong. I can’t even sense his mana properly. If we attack together..."