Hubertus was stunned—500 souls for the other ingredients needed to complete the elixir of transmorph? No wonder most demons settled for the simpler, albeit flawed, transformation offered by consuming the stone directly. The cost of perfection was always exorbitant.
He leaned back, his fingers tracing the surface of the gleaming black stone in his palm as he browsed through a lengthy infernal ledger of spells, ingredients, and enchanted items. The parchment crackled faintly with every page he turned, a faint glow emanating from the runes that recorded each transaction. There had to be something worthwhile here—some way to make this stone work for him without depleting his resources entirely.
Selling the stone was an option. It would fetch 10 souls in its current state. However, the thought gave him pause. If he needed to acquire another stone later for the elixir, the cost would double—20 souls just to regain what he had sold. A foolish move unless he was desperate, and desperation didn’t suit a man of his ambitions.
The more profitable route would be to sell it for a higher price, but that presented another hurdle. Infernal trade laws were notoriously strict. To sell at a premium, he would need a license as an Infernal Broker—a title that came with steep taxes and obligations to the Abyssal Treasury. Even in Hell, bureaucracy reigned supreme. Still, the thought of the added profit tugged at him. If he played it right, he could make enough to fund the elixir and still walk away with power to spare.
Hubertus smirked, an idea forming. Perhaps Carl, with his knowledge of infernal dealings, could prove useful. If Carl had the broker’s license, he might be able to sell the stone on Hubertus’ behalf—no strings attached. Of course, Carl would likely expect a cut, but it would still be cheaper than paying the Abyssal taxes himself.
Hubertus snapped the ledger shut with a wave of his hand, sending it back into the Hive. The faint hum of the spire’s energy pulsed around him, a constant reminder of the Hive’s presence in his every move. Calculations, risks, and opportunities swirled in his mind like an alchemist’s brew. He wasn’t one to rush decisions, but one thing was certain: this stone was far too valuable to waste on an impulse.
He grinned, a spark of determination in his eye. He’d speak with Carl. If the demon wanted to prove his usefulness, now was the time.
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A strange buzzing sound rang in Hubertus’ mind, an insistent hum that seemed to vibrate through the very marrow of his bones. Bewildered, he froze, clutching the stone in his palm. What is the meaning of this? His thoughts churned. Was this something the Hive did?
Determined to find answers, Hubertus made his way through the spiraling corridors of Carl’s spire. The obsidian walls shimmered faintly with infernal runes, their glow pulsing like the heartbeat of the Hive itself. After navigating the twisting paths, he found Carl in the training chamber, his fiery horns faintly flickering as he honed his claws against a whetstone.
Carl glanced up as Hubertus entered, his smirk widening at the sight of the clearly agitated fledgling. “Something on your mind, Hubertus?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
Hubertus wasted no time. “There’s this… buzzing in my head,” he said, his tone clipped. “What is it? Is this something the Hive does?”
Carl leaned back, folding his muscular arms across his chest. His smirk grew into a full grin. “Ah, that. It’s not the Hive—it’s a call,” he explained, his tone nonchalant, as if discussing the weather. “Someone’s trying to reach you. All you have to do is say, ‘Answer the call.’”
Hubertus frowned, the buzzing growing louder, more insistent. “That’s it? Just… answer it?”
Carl’s grin turned devilish. “That’s it. Go on, fledgling. Don’t keep them waiting.”
Skeptical but eager to stop the infernal hum, Hubertus closed his eyes and muttered, “Answer the call.”
The buzzing ceased instantly, replaced by the clear, melodic tone of a female voice.
“Well, finally,” the voice said, laced with mock impatience. Hubertus recognized it immediately—the office lady. He could practically see her smirk through the tone of her words.
“I’m calling to inform you,” she began, her voice as smooth as polished steel, “that you are now officially obligated to receive your fledgling packet. This includes your standard trinket, your soul chamber, and a summoning scroll. All essentials for a new demon of your… rank.” Her tone made it clear she didn’t think much of his rank.
Hubertus felt a surge of excitement ripple through him. Finally, the first tangible step toward becoming a fully fledged demon. His thoughts raced as he considered the possibilities. The trinket—what could it be? Was it something valuable, a tool of immense power, or perhaps a symbol of his budding status? His curiosity burned almost as brightly as his ambition.
The office lady’s voice rang in his mind once more, smooth and efficient. “I will summon you when the packet is ready for you to receive. Are you prepared?”
“Absolutely,” Hubertus replied without hesitation, his tone sharp with anticipation.
Almost immediately, the air around him warped, the runes embedded in the walls of Carl’s spire flaring to life. A portal tore itself open before him, swirling with dark energy tinged in fiery reds and molten gold. Hubertus took a deep breath, steeling himself. Not another surprise like last time, he thought and stepped through.