CHAPTER 37

DEATH LORD'S CONTRACT

Mark’s white horse thundered across the endless snowy grasslands, its hooves kicking up frost with each gallop. Triska clung tightly to him as they raced forward, her arms wrapped around his waist.

In the distance, a dark figure emerged, barely visible against the horizon. As they drew closer, it became clear—it was a person, but their identity was impossible to tell. A long black cloak shrouded their body completely, revealing no skin or clothing underneath. A hood covered their head and a red demon mask with gleaming white teeth curved into a chilling smile. Two horns jutted from the mask, adding to the eerie appearance. The figure raised a gloved hand, motioning for them to stop.

“Mark,” the figure called in a deep, bone-chilling voice that resonated like a growl. “At last, we meet.”

Mark pulled the horse to a halt and dismounted. Triska slid off behind him, her eyes darting nervously toward the stranger.

“Who are you?” Mark asked, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His voice was steady, but he was clearly ready for a fight. “And how do you know me?”

The figure chuckled. “You’ve slain an Elder Dragon and the Chancellor of a realm. Word spreads quickly when you make waves like that.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. “And you are?”

“Call me the Death Lord,” the man replied. “I have a business proposition for you.”

“What kind of proposition?”

“There’s an artifact hidden in ruins to the west: a gemstone. It’s heavily guarded by monsters. I need someone… capable… to retrieve it for me.”

Mark smirked, unimpressed. “Sounds like work. But before we get into that, what’s your real name?”

“I go by many names. But Death Lord will do for now.”

“Right,” Mark said dryly, suppressing a laugh. “Sounds really scary. Look, I don’t usually turn down jobs, but you seem… off. So, no thanks.”

The Death Lord raised his hand, and suddenly Triska’s body jerked forward, as though pulled by invisible strings.

“Mark!” she cried, her boots skidding across the snow.

“Vinculum magicus, rumpere, libertas mea!” Mark shouted, but his incantation fizzled out, useless. Triska kept sliding toward the Death Lord, her arms flailing as she struggled.

Desperate, she summoned a ball of fire in her hand and hurled it at him. But with a flick of his wrist, the Death Lord conjured an invisible shield. The flames dispersed harmlessly against it. When she was close enough, he grabbed her by the throat with one gloved hand, lifting her off the ground.

“Let her go!” Mark roared, unsheathing his glowing spirit sword. Its green light pulsed with power as he charged forward, leaping high into the air for a downward strike.

The Death Lord raised his other hand, and another invisible shield appeared. The blade struck the barrier with a loud crack and rebounded, sending Mark sprawling backward onto the snowy ground.

“Impossible!” Mark growled, scrambling to his feet. “This sword cuts through any magic!”

“Not mine,” the Death Lord said. He tightened his grip on Triska’s throat, her face contorting in pain. “Now, shall we discuss the terms of our contract, or should I snap her pretty neck and move on?”

“You’re clearly stronger than both me and Triska. Why not just do the job yourself?”

The Death Lord’s grip on Triska’s throat loosened slightly as he replied. “I’m a busy man, Mark. Too many tasks, not enough time. I delegate. And I need competent people like you to handle the things I can’t.” He paused for a few seconds. “Four hundred gold coins. That’s your reward.”

“And what’s to stop us from taking the job and then keeping the artifact, or just running off?”

A cold chuckle rumbled from behind the Death Lord’s mask. “The artifact would be worthless in your hands. As for running off…” Before Mark could react, the Death Lord flicked his free hand. A small needle shot through the air, striking Mark in the neck.

“Ah! What the—” Mark yanked the needle out, glaring. “What did you just do to me?”

“A poison. You’ve got three days to return here with the artifact. Without my antidote, you’ll die. Don’t bother trying to find a cure on your own—you’ll waste what little time you have.”

Mark ground his teeth. “Fine,” he spat. “I’ll find your damn artifact.”

Satisfied, the Death Lord tossed Triska to the snowy ground with a thud and turned to leave.

But Triska wasn’t done. Springing to her feet, she conjured two blazing fireballs and hurled them at his back without warning.

The Death Lord didn’t even flinch. Still walking, he raised a hand. The fireballs froze mid-air, turning to solid ice before shattering into thousands of glittering shards. Without breaking his stride or looking back, he lifted the shards with a casual flick of his hand, molding them into a gleaming ice sword.

The sword shot forward, speeding toward Triska like an arrow.

“Look out!” Mark yelled, tackling her to the ground just in time. The icy blade soared over them but didn’t stop there. As it passed overhead, it shattered into dozens of sharp fragments, each shard hovering menacingly above them, their pointed tips aimed straight down.

Mark and Triska lay frozen, staring at the deadly shards as they hovered, trembling, inches from their skin.

“No more games,” the Death Lord said coldly. With a wave of his hand, the ice dissolved into water, splashing onto their faces. “Do your job,” he ordered before vanishing into the snowy horizon.

Mark and Triska climbed onto their horse and galloped west through the biting cold. Hours passed before they reached a tiny village of fewer than thirty people. The snow swirled, and the wind howled, making the streets eerily empty. They stopped in front of the largest building, a sturdy two-story wooden house with a thatched roof and smoke curling from its chimney. After dismounting, Mark knocked on the door.

A rotund old man answered, peering out at them with curious eyes. “Foreigners,” he said warmly. “Welcome to our little village. I’m Cedomir, the mayor. What brings you here?”

“Is there an inn or tavern where we can stay?” Mark asked, brushing snow off his armor.

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Cedomir shook his head. “No inns here, I’m afraid. We don’t see many visitors, and we’re a small community. But we welcome outsiders. You can stay with me. There’s an empty room upstairs—my wife passed last year, and my son left over a decade ago.”

“Thank you,” Mark said with a grateful smile.

Cedomir stepped aside and motioned them in. “I was just finishing dinner. Come, sit and eat.”

He led them into a cozy dining room with a wooden table and a few mismatched chairs. Mark and Triska sat down as the old man ladled steaming hot soup into bowls and placed them on the table.

Triska took a spoonful and her face lit up. “This is amazing,” she said, nudging Mark. “You have to try it.”

Mark took a sip. The soup was salty, hot, and exactly what he needed after the long, freezing ride. “It’s delicious,” he said to Cedomir.

The old man beamed. “Good to know someone appreciates my cooking. Been a while since I’ve had company.” He paused, his expression growing serious. “So, what brings two armed strangers to our quiet little corner of the world?”

“We’re looking for some ruins nearby,” Triska replied. “Do you know anything about them?”

Cedomir’s spoon froze mid-air. “Ah, those ruins…” he muttered, setting the spoon down. “They’re just a few hours west of here, but no one in their right mind goes there. The place is cursed. Ghosts and monsters roam the grounds. Folks who’ve tried exploring them—well, they never come back.” He sighed. “I hoped that wasn’t why you’d come.”

Mark gave a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We can take care of ourselves.”

Cedomir shook his head sadly. “I’ve heard that before.”

After they finished their meal, the mayor led them upstairs to a small room with a single bed. “This used to be my son’s room,” he explained. “I suppose sharing a bed won’t bother you—you look like a couple.”

Triska’s cheeks turned red. “We’re not—uh…” she stammered.

“It’ll do,” Mark interjected quickly.

Cedomir chuckled, then nodded. “Call me if you need anything,” he said before closing the door behind him.

Mark and Triska exchanged a glance, the faint blush lingering on her face. The room was simple, but it was warm, and for now, it was enough.

“What do you think about the mission?” Triska asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Mark unbuckled his armor, tossing it aside, and stood in his undershirt and pants. “I don’t trust him. Death Lord? Hiding his face? Crazy powerful sorcerer? Yeah, he screams trouble. But it’s not like we’ve got much of a choice.”

“His magic is incredible,” Triska said. “Even the Grandmasters of the Orders would struggle against him. I can’t help but wonder—what’s his story?”

Mark shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t care. I just hope once we give him the artifact, he takes it and fucks off. The guy’s bad news.”

Triska stretched out on the single bed. “So… we’re sharing this bed, huh?”

Mark chuckled as he glanced over. “You’ve already seen me naked. Don’t worry—I’m a gentleman. I’ll take the floor.”

“You don’t have to. We can sleep together.” She paused, cheeks flushing slightly, before adding quickly, “I mean sleep, not fuck.”

Mark laughed. “Fine by me. Wouldn’t do anything on this creaky old bed anyway. Don’t want to wake up the old man.”

Triska laughed too, her blush deepening. She sat up and crossed the room toward him, her eyes meeting his. “We’re both adults. Let’s cut the pretense. I don’t know if it’s because I need a rebound after… everything with Sokolov, or because you’re so damn hot, but I’m attracted to you. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt the tension between us.”

Mark smiled. “I felt it,” he admitted. “I just didn’t want to rush things. After what happened with Sokolov, I thought you might need time—”

“Mark,” she interrupted, placing a hand on his chest. “I can make my own decisions. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need protecting. I know what I want.”

For a moment, the room fell silent. Then Mark stepped closer, pulling her into his arms and kissing her deeply. Triska melted into the kiss, her arms wrapping around him as his hand slid down to her firm ass. The heat between them grew as their lips stayed locked, passion overtaking them.

Finally, Triska broke the kiss, her breathing heavy. “That’s enough for now,” she said. “You were right—we don’t want to wake the old man. And maybe… taking it slow is a good idea.”

Mark nodded. “You’re worth the wait.”

They climbed into the small bed together, her head resting on his chest. As the warmth of their shared space pushed away the chill, Mark drifted off to sleep with Triska cuddled tightly against him.

At dawn, as the first rays of sunlight painted the sky, Mark and Triska stirred awake. They mounted Mark’s white horse and set off west, heading straight for the ruins. The chill in the air bit at their faces as they rode, the wind howling like a restless spirit. After hours of riding, the ruins came into view: crumbling marble columns and the shattered remains of an ancient temple, all cloaked in a thick blanket of snow.

As they drew closer, the duo dismounted.

“Stay here,” Mark said, patting the horse's neck. Together, he and Triska ventured into the eerie silence of the ruins.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled beneath their feet. Two massive beasts burst forth from the snow, towering above them like nightmares come to life. They resembled giant praying mantises, their sharp forelegs glinting menacingly in the pale light. One of them swung a foreleg at a nearby column, sending the massive structure hurtling toward them.

“Down!” Triska shouted, shoving Mark to the ground just as the column soared overhead and shattered behind them with a deafening crash.

Mark scrambled to his feet, drawing his sword. “Let’s take these bastards out!”

Without hesitation, he charged the nearest monster. The beast slashed at him with its foreleg, but Mark ducked just in time, feeling the wind from the swing brush his head. He drove his sword into one of its hind legs, the blade slicing through the green, sinewy flesh. Dark blood oozed out as the mantis recoiled, thrashing wildly. Mark yanked his sword free and jumped back to dodge another deadly strike. Rolling to his left, he narrowly avoided a foreleg that could’ve skewered him like a kebab.

Meanwhile, Triska squared off against the second mantis. It lashed out, but an invisible energy shield shimmered into existence just before impact, stopping the foreleg cold. Triska gritted her teeth, sweat beading on her brow as the effort of maintaining the shield took its toll. She conjured an ice orb and hurled it at the beast, freezing one of its forelegs instantly. The leg shattered into a thousand icy shards, and the mantis screeched in agony.

The wounded creature lunged again, swinging its remaining foreleg. Triska dove to the side, dodging the strike by inches. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a fire orb and launched it at the mantis’s flank. Flames engulfed the creature, the acrid smell of burning flesh filling the air.

Mark, meanwhile, was wrestling with his own monster. As the mantis swiped at him again, he grabbed hold of its foreleg and scrambled up, using it like a ladder. Climbing onto the beast’s back, he drove his sword deep into its flesh. The creature bucked and thrashed, trying to shake him off.

“Fuck!” Mark growled, gripping the hilt of his sword for dear life. He yanked the blade free and inched toward the monster’s head, each step precarious as it twisted and writhed beneath him. Reaching its head, Mark plunged his sword straight into its skull, twisting the blade for good measure. “Die, you fucking monster!”

With a final, guttural screech, the mantis collapsed, its massive body hitting the ground with a thunderous crash. Mark tumbled off, landing with a loud thud. “Ouch,” he muttered, groaning as he stood and yanked his bloodied sword from the creature’s head.

Triska, meanwhile, was still locked in battle. With a move of her hand, she lifted snow from the ground and shaped it into a swirling column. With a quick conjuring of ice magic, the snow solidified into a towering pillar of ice. Leaping onto the column, Triska faced the mantis head-on. She summoned two sharp ice shards and flung them into its glowing eyes. The monster screeched in blind fury, thrashing wildly.

Without missing a beat, Triska conjured a fire bolt and hurled it at the creature’s face. Flames erupted, consuming its head as it stumbled back, screeching in pain. Finally, the mantis collapsed, its fall shaking the earth beneath her feet.

Triska hopped off the ice column, landing gracefully beside Mark. She smirked. “Looks like you beat me to it.”

“Magic’s flashy, but nothing beats a good old-fashioned sword,” Mark replied with a grin, resting his blade on his shoulder.

They stood there for a moment, catching their breath as the wind carried away the scent of blood and burnt flesh.

As Mark and Triska ventured further into the crumbling ruins of the ancient temple, they came across a sloping ramp that disappeared into the darkness below.

“Bet that’s where the artifact is,” Mark said. “But I’m guessing there’s more trouble waiting for us down there.”

Triska shot him a playful wink. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

Without another word, they started down the ramp. At the bottom, they were met with a massive stone door, smooth and featureless, with no handles or hinges in sight.

“Well, this is a problem…” Mark muttered, crossing his arms. “Got any magic to blast it open or something?”

Triska frowned, examining the door. “I don’t know. Maybe—”

Before she could finish, a deep, resonating sound filled the air. Mark had rested his hand on the door, and suddenly it flared with a blinding, golden light. Both he and Triska shielded their eyes as the strange hum grew louder. When the light faded and they cautiously opened their eyes, the stone door was gone.

“Well, that’s convenient,” Mark quipped, flashing a lopsided grin.

“How the hell did that happen?” Triska asked, still staring at the empty doorway.

“Who cares?” Mark shrugged, stepping forward. “Let’s grab this fucking artifact already. I’m on borrowed time here—poisoned, remember?”

Triska rolled her eyes but followed him into the shadowy underground chamber, her steps echoing on the stone floor.