I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 774: Dreknar’s Favor Part 5 – Part I

Dreknar leaned forward slightly, his massive frame shifting with the ponderous grace of something that could crush mountains if it chose to move with urgency.

Those green eyes studied Jack with the intensity of a scholar examining a text.

“You survived,” Dreknar continued, his voice carrying approval beneath the menacing tone.

“Single-handedly slaughtered an army of dragons. Broke the Herald. Bound three thousand souls to your collection without conscious participation. And managed to trigger ancestral synchronization with one of the Shattered Kings.”

A smile spread across the demon god’s face, revealing perfectly white teeth. “Most mortals would have shattered. Their minds fragmented across planes they were never meant to perceive. Their souls scattered like ash on the wind.”

Jack’s hand unclenched at his side, his fingers spreading open as tension bled from the muscles of his forearm. His mixed gaze remained fixed on Dreknar.

Their eyes met, and Jack held an unwavering expression. meeting the emerald fire of the demon god’s stare without flinching.

“I need control,” Jack said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion that still clung to his bones.

“The Madness state is unstable. When it does, I lose awareness. I become something else entirely, and I have no memory of what that something does.”

Dreknar’s laugh was a deep, resonant sound that made the black flames in the lanterns flicker violently. The sound rolled through the throne room like thunder echoing through a canyon, and when it faded, the demon god’s expression shifted to genuine satisfaction.

“Control,” Dreknar repeated, settling back into his throne. The bone structure creaked beneath his weight.

“You want mastery over a technique that was designed to strip away everything you are and replace it with pure demonic fury. You want to harness the power of blood and transformation without losing yourself in the process.”

He raised one massive hand, extending two clawed fingers.

“There are two paths to what you seek, little lamb.”

The first finger fell down as he spoke.

“Path one: You become the Demon King. You claim the throne of the Spire and obtain the Jewel of Madness. The artifact was created in an age when demons walked openly beneath the sky, before the god wars, before the world was restructured at the whim of the gods.

The Jewel contains the knowledge of every demon king who came before you. Their techniques, their understanding, their mastery of the Madness Arts.”

Dreknar’s grin widened. “But this requires you to understand something crucial… The Blood Demon Arts are not merely techniques. They are a royal fighting style. Only those with the blood of kings, the authority of the throne, and the will to dominate can wield them without being consumed by the hunger at their core.”

The second finger fell beside the first.

“Path two: You obtain my blessing. Divine favor from a god who has walked the path you’re walking, who has felt the demonic urges attempt to devour his consciousness, who has learned to shape that hunger into a tool rather than allow it to be shaped by the hunger itself.”

Dreknar leaned forward, his horned head tilting as he studied Jack. “As my blessing grows, as you complete the trials I set before you, your control over the Madness State will increase in kind. The degree of mastery will shift with each task completed. By the time you’ve earned my full favor, you’ll be able to activate the state at will, sustain it for as long as your body can bear the strain, and maintain conscious awareness throughout the transformation.”

Jack’s shoulders drew back slightly, his spine straightening as he processed the implications of what Dreknar was offering. The demon god was presenting him with a choice, but only one of those paths was actually viable in any near-term sense.

Claiming the throne of the underworld would require Jack to overthrow the Demon King himself, to survive the political machinations of countless demonic nobles, to establish dominion over a realm that had existed for ages beyond counting.

The other path required only that Jack continue doing what he’d already been doing, completing the tasks set before him by a god who, for reasons Jack still didn’t entirely understand, seemed invested in his continued survival and growth.

“Tell me the task,” Jack said, cutting through the heavy silence that had descended between them.

Dreknar’s eyes flared with brilliant green fire. His massive hand rose from the throne’s armrest, and he extended three clawed fingers.

A gesture that somehow managed to feel both casual and monumental.

“Your fifth and final trial will not be confined to a single battlefield or a simple objective,” Dreknar began, his voice dropping into a tone that carried absolute authority.

“It is a multi-part gauntlet that will reshape both the tower and the world outside. Complete it, and you will have demonstrated mastery over conquest, creation, and transformation. You will be worthy of my blessing and everything it entails.”

The demon god lowered one finger.

“Part one: You will take the army you’ve accumulated, your soul-bound collection, and you will conquer the foundation. The first thirty floors of the tower will fall under your dominion.

You will establish control so absolute that those floors become sealed under your name, accessible to you and those you permit, closed to all others.”

Dreknar’s expression hardened. “This is conquest on a scale that will announce to every power in this world that you are no longer a rising threat. You will be an established force. A kingdom unto yourself.”

Jack’s hand clenched again, but this time the motion was controlled.

His mind immediately began calculating the scope of what that meant. The demons he’d encountered on those lower levels, the creatures, the environmental hazards, the political structures that existed in the tower’s depths.

It was achievable, but it would require time, strategy, and a willingness to commit atrocities on a scale that would make what he’d already done look like the work of an amateur.

“Part two,” Dreknar continued, lowering a second finger, “is about retribution and creation intertwined. There exists a lost, extinct lineage that was wiped from existence a long time ago.

The Dark Elves.

A race of unparalleled beauty and power, corrupted deliberately by those who feared them, then systematically hunted to extinction.” The demon god’s smile became something that transcended predatory. It became almost joyful in its cruelty. “You are going to resurrect them.”

“And more importantly,” Dreknar said, each word dropping like a stone into still water, “you are going to use the very Council that banished you, that sent you to die on that wasteland, as the raw materials to do it.

Warp their flesh.

Corrupt their souls.

Twist their high-elven purity into the foundation of your new dark race. They will become the first of the Dark Elves, bound to you, transformed beyond recognition, serving you for eternity as monuments to their own betrayal.”

Jack’s jaw tightened. His teeth clenched together hard enough to make his temples throb.

The Elven Council.

He would turn them into something older, strip away everything they were, and rebuild them according to his design.

The satisfaction that thought brought was profoundly intense in his head.

“And the third part?” Jack asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dreknar lowered his final finger slowly, drawing out the moment with the particular cruelty of a being who understood the power of anticipation.