I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 486: Wait...

"Are you insane?" the Clan Master whispered back, his dull red eyes wide with disbelief. "You can’t sense his mana because he’s suppressing it. It contains power that would flatten this entire castle if he released it fully."

"But he’s just..."

"Unhinged," the Clan Master interrupted. "He ate a demon’s heart in front of fifty witnesses without hesitation. Killed four smiths with a gesture. Broke twenty guards through presence alone. That’s not a weakness. That’s someone who’s transcended normal limitations and stopped caring about rules."

The Emissary’s jaw worked soundlessly, trying to formulate an argument.

"He’d kill us in a second if we tried anything," the Clan Master finished, his tone carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "And then he’d bind our corpses and claim this castle anyway. The only difference would be whether we’re conscious servants or mindless bound souls."

They reached the table.

The Clan Master gestured to the head position.

A chair larger than the others, clearly meant for whoever held authority during gatherings.

Jack sat without hesitation, his posture relaxed despite occupying what should have been the Clan Master’s seat.

The message was clear: authority had changed hands. The Iron Soot Clan served at his pleasure now.

His party arranged itself behind him. Brutus set Rhys down gently, the young mage leaning against the minotaur’s leg for support.

The dragons positioned themselves on either side, their massive forms creating a barrier between Jack and the rest of the hall.

Father Caelen stood in contemplative silence, and Loryn kept Marcus Thorne’s slave collar gripped tightly.

The Clan Master and Emissary remained standing, neither willing to sit without permission.

Jack’s unwavering gaze met the Clan Master’s, his demeanor composed yet conveying a gravitas that made the imposing nine-foot demon display subtle unease.

"So," Jack said, his voice carrying across the empty hall. "What do you plan to offer me? What tribute will convince me to allow the Iron Soot Clan to continue existing?"

The Clan Master’s mouth opened, his dull red eyes searching for words that might satisfy a Soul Warden who’d just consumed a demon’s heart in front of his guards.

His large hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, betraying nervousness despite his efforts to maintain composure.

"We can provide metals," he began, his voice rough. "Rare ores from the lower floors. Iron, copper, silver. Refined to specifications you’d never find elsewhere. Our smiths are the finest in..."

"Materials bore me," Jack interrupted, his golden eyes tracking the Clan Master’s face with clinical precision.

"Every clan has metals. Every floor has ores. You’re not offering me anything I couldn’t take from your forges after binding your corpses."

The Clan Master swallowed hard. "Weapons, then. Custom-forged blades, armor fitted to exact..."

"Still boring," Jack said, examining his nails where traces of blood still lingered. "I have a bound army that doesn’t need equipment. Weapons would be decorative at best."

The Emissary’s crimson skin had regained some color, his tattoos pulsing with renewed confidence as he watched the Clan Master fumble.

The arrogance was creeping back. A dangerous sign that the lesson from the courtyard hadn’t fully penetrated.

The Clan Master’s jaw worked soundlessly, his mind clearly racing through options that kept getting rejected before he could voice them.

Sweat beaded on his charcoal-gray skin despite the hall’s cool temperature.

"Labor," he tried, desperation edging into his tone. "Three hundred skilled smiths at your disposal. We could..."

A sudden explosion of motion as his hand slammed into the stone floor with force that cracked volcanic rock in a perfect circle.

Fire erupted from the impact point.

A pillar of flame twenty feet wide consumed the space where Jack sat, roaring upward with heat that should have melted flesh from bone in seconds.

The temperature in the hall spiked instantly, forge fires seeming cold by comparison to the inferno that engulfed the head of the table.

The Emissary’s laugh cut through the roar of flames, sharp and triumphant. "Got him! The mighty Soul Warden, burned to ash before he could..."

"That easy?" Jack’s voice cut through the laughter like a blade through silk. "You really thought it would be that easy?"

The pillar of fire began to distort.

They were being pushed aside by something that made the flames bend away like water encountering stone.

Golden light bled through the inferno, growing brighter with each passing second until it became painful to look at directly.

Golden lightning exploded outward from Jack’s seat. The discharge was so raw that it made the air itself scream.

The pillar of fire shattered, blown apart by an electrical current that turned the stone floor beneath it into glass in milliseconds.

The temperature spiked again.

Lightning crackled through the hall with such intensity that the forge fires were extinguished, replaced by golden light that illuminated every corner with harsh clarity.

His golden eyes blazed with power, making them appear like molten suns set in a human’s face.

The lightning emanated from him, arcing between his fingers, crackling across his skin, turning the air around his body into a storm compressed into a human shape.

The Clan Master took three steps backward, his survival instincts screaming warnings that nearly overrode conscious thought.

His eyes, a muted crimson, widened as he recognized a fundamental misjudgment regarding the power dynamics.

Rhys observed Brutus from behind, his fatigued expression reflecting a sense of awe.

This was what Jack had become through the contract with Tharaxis. Power that transcended mortal limitations entirely.

Jack’s smile was wicked.

The expression was not only unkind, but it also conveyed a sense of impending violence.

His right hand began to transform, black, demonic scales flowing up from his fingertips to his shoulder.

Then golden marks spread across his skin like tattoos, intricate patterns that pulsed with each heartbeat.

The marks weren’t random. They formed circuits along his skin that led to points where mana was the most potent.

A horn erupted from the right side of his skull, black as obsidian and curved like a crescent blade.

A leathery wing unfolded from his right shoulder blade. A demonic wing where the membrane between bone shot through with veins of golden lightning.

Jack stood slowly, his transformed state making him appear as something that existed between categories.

Half dragon contractor, half demon, entirely beyond what mortal forms should contain.

The golden lightning intensified, arcing between his hands and the stone around him, charring the volcanic rock table where it struck. The scent of burning stone permeated the hall.

"Stupid," Jack said. He advanced slowly toward the Emissary, while lightning strikes continued to impact various points within the chamber, each stride leaving discernible scorch marks on the flooring.

"So weak you couldn’t sense my power being suppressed. So arrogant you mistook my restraint for inability."

The Emissary scrambled backward, his crimson skin paling to pink as recognition of fatal error crashed through his consciousness. "Wait... I didn’t... please..."

Jack’s scaled hand shot forward, gripping the Emissary by the jaw with force that cracked the bone. He lifted the seven-foot demon off the ground one-handed, golden lightning crackling along the contact point.

"You attacked me," Jack said, his golden eyes boring into the Emissary’s terrified gaze, "because you were too weak to sense danger. Because your ego convinced you that political rank meant more than my title."