I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 487: Split Down the Middle

His other hand moved to grip the other side of the Emissary’s jaw.

"Let me educate you on the difference between confidence and delusion."

Jack pulled suddenly with explosive force as he applied force in opposite directions.

The Emissary’s jaw shattered first, bone fragmenting under pressure that exceeded what biological material could withstand.

Then his skull split, the crack spreading down through his neck, his torso, his pelvis.

The demon tried to scream, but his throat was already being torn apart.

Blood sprayed in arterial bursts, painting the stone floor in patterns that would have been artistic if they weren’t visceral proof of brutal execution.

Jack ripped the Emissary completely in half from head to crotch, separating the body into two symmetrical pieces that fell to either side with wet thuds.

He stood there for a moment, both halves of the corpse at his feet, golden lightning still crackling across his transformed state.

Blood covered his hands, his arms, speckling his face with crimson that contrasted sharply against his golden eyes.

Then he stored both halves in system storage, the corpse vanishing in flashes of dark energy.

The silence that followed was profound.

Jack’s transformation receded gradually.

The demonic scales flowed back to reveal pale skin, the golden marks faded from view, and the horn and wing dissolved as if they’d never existed.

Within seconds, he appeared human again, though the blood covering his face and hands remained as evidence of what had just transpired.

He turned to face the Clan Master.

The nine-foot demon had gone completely still, his charcoal-gray skin pale with terror that paralyzed every muscle.

His dull red eyes were locked on Jack’s face, tracking the golden gaze that studied him with clinical detachment.

Jack walked back to the table, his footsteps leaving bloody prints on the charred stone.

He took a seat in the main chair, appearing quite at ease despite the significant damage he had just caused.

The Clan Master’s knees buckled.

The massive demon dropped to the floor hard enough to crack stone, his hands raised in supplication that transcended pride or dignity.

"Please," he gasped, his voice breaking. "Please, I’ll offer anything. Everything. The entire clan... we’ll serve you. Personal smiths, whatever you need, please don’t..."

Jack’s hand moved to rest on the Clan Master’s head.

The demon went rigid, every muscle locking with the certainty that this was death arriving in the form of a half-demon’s touch.

His breathing stopped, his eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the inevitable.

But the killing blow didn’t come.

Instead, Jack’s voice cut through the silence, calm and businesslike. "That will do just fine."

The Clan Master’s eyes snapped open, confusion mixing with the terror still flooding his system.

"You’ll move the Iron Soot Clan to Floor Twenty-Five," Jack continued, his hand still resting on the demon’s skull. "My domain. You’ll establish forges there, continue your smithwork, serve as my personal craftsmen for projects that require expertise I don’t currently possess."

His golden eyes tracked down to meet the Clan Master’s gaze. "Loryn has access to portals. He’ll facilitate the transport of materials from wherever you need them. You’ll have everything required to maintain your craft."

The Clan Master’s breathing resumed in ragged gasps. "Yes. Yes, of course. Whatever you need, we’ll..."

"I have a project," Jack interjected, his tone conveying a sense of finality. "Something that requires a master smith’s touch. You and your best craftsman will handle it personally. Loryn will provide details once you’re settled on Twenty-Five."

He removed his hand from the Clan Master’s head. "Evacuate immediately. Take everything that matters. Leave nothing behind that you’ll regret losing. You have six hours."

The Clan Master scrambled to his feet with speed that belied his massive frame, already moving toward the great hall’s exit.

His survival instincts had fully overridden everything else.

Pride, authority, and the centuries of history are tied to this castle. None of it mattered compared to living through the next few hours.

Jack watched him leave, his face blank even with the blood drying on it.

Behind him, Rhys had gone pale, his hands trembling where they gripped Tempest’s Edge.

Slyph’s green aura had dimmed to almost nothing, the wind spirit clearly overwhelmed by the casual brutality she’d witnessed.

’Slyph...’

’Yes, Rhys?’

’So if Jack put in actual effort in our fight, that could have been me...’

’Yes, it seems as if he wanted to; he could kill you on a moment’s notice.’

Even Father Caelen showed a reaction. He observed Jack’s actions with heightened focus, meticulously noting every aspect of the young man’s transformation.

And Marcus Thorne, his sunken eyes reflected recognition of a pattern he knew intimately.

This was characteristic of Jack Kaiser’s operational methodology. It involved an initial display of overwhelming force, followed by a calculated act of clemency, effectively subduing resistance through demonstration while offering a path to survival for those who capitulated promptly.

-----

Six hours passed in a blur of controlled chaos.

The Iron Soot Clan operated with remarkable efficiency; they recognized that any misstep could lead to their demise.

Forges were dismantled with care, anvils wrapped in protective cloth, tools sorted and packed into crates built for exactly this purpose.

Families gathered their belongings. Children were herded into groups, their gray skin paler than normal as parents whispered reassurances that rang hollow even to young ears.

The Clan Master coordinated everything from the courtyard, his massive frame moving between groups as he barked orders and verified that nothing essential was being left behind.

His dull red eyes carried the weight of someone who’d just gambled his entire clan’s future on a Soul Warden’s mercy.

Jack watched from the great hall’s entrance, his golden eyes tracking the evacuation with the detachment of someone observing ants relocate their colony.

Blood still stained his face and hands; he’d made no effort to clean it, and no one had dared suggest he should.

Loryn stood beside him, the demon’s purple eyes studying the organized chaos with professional assessment.

"They’re thorough. Not leaving anything that could be used as leverage or reclaimed later."

"The Clan Master understands that half-measures get people killed."

Rhys sat on Brutus’s shoulder nearby, his exhaustion evident in how he leaned against the minotaur’s neck for support. Slyph hovered close, her green aura still dimmed from witnessing the Emissary’s execution.

’Are you okay?’ Slyph asked, her voice carrying through the mental link she shared with Rhys.

’I don’t know,’ Rhys admitted. ’I knew Jack was powerful. I’ve seen him fight. But that transformation... the casual way he just ripped someone in half...’

’He’s becoming something beyond human,’ Slyph observed. ’The contract with Tharaxis, the demonic essence. It’s changing him at a fundamental level.’

’I know,’ Rhys whispered. ’And I don’t know if that’s terrifying or reassuring.’

By the time the sixth hour approached, the castle was empty.

Three hundred demons stood in the courtyard, arranged in family groups with their possessions packed and ready for transport.

The forges were cold, the great hall stripped of everything except the charred table where Jack had demonstrated what happened to those who tested his patience.

The Clan Master approached Jack, his charcoal-gray skin still pale with lingering fear. "We’re ready, Soul Warden. Everything’s packed. Everyone’s accounted for."

Jack’s discerning gaze surveyed the assembled group, observing the palpable apprehension in their expressions, the protective embrace of parents with their children, and the profound silence that indicated a collective held breath.