This time, there were no surprises. Hubertus landed smoothly in her office, the transition from the portal seamless. He straightened, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeves, and looked up to see her standing behind her desk, her usual air of detached professionalism intact.
She greeted him with a faint nod, and he returned the gesture.
“Here are your basics,” she began, her tone crisp. She placed two items on the desk, each glowing faintly with infernal energy. “A summoning scroll, tuned to your blood. Whoever uses it can summon you directly—no exceptions. And this,” she gestured to the small, translucent orb beside it, its rippling surface seeming to hold faint, shadowy movements within, “is your soul chamber. It collects and stores souls. You’ll find it indispensable as you climb the ranks of demonhood. Keep it safe. For now, you can ask Carl to store it in his spire until you have a residence of your own.”
Hubertus studied the soul chamber, its shifting interior bringing back the unsettling memory of his first encounter with such an artifact. The buzzing sound, the flickering light, the screaming face pressed against the orb’s surface—it had shaken him more than he’d cared to admit at the time. Now, holding one himself, the raw energy it radiated was unmistakable. It felt alive, a pulsing reminder of the chaos he was gradually learning to navigate.
“Understood,” he said, his tone steady as he took both items and placed them carefully in his satchel.
“Good,” the office lady replied, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Now, on to your trinket. Follow me.”
With a wave of her hand, a massive metal door materialized on the far wall. Its surface gleamed ominously, etched with deep grooves and ancient symbols that pulsed faintly with an unsettling light. It looked less like a door and more like a vault, as if it were meant to seal away something dangerous—or something powerful.
Hubertus raised an eyebrow but kept his thoughts to himself as she led the way. The door swung open soundlessly, revealing a dim staircase spiraling downward into darkness.
She didn’t hesitate, descending the steps as if she had done so countless times before. Hubertus followed, his eyes narrowing as the oppressive shadows seemed to thicken with every step. The air grew cooler, the faint scent of sulfur and something metallic brushing against his senses.
His fingers brushed against the strap of his satchel, where the soul chamber rested. Whatever lay at the bottom of these stairs, he could feel it too—a faint hum, resonating in his chest. A whisper of power, beckoning him forward.
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As they walked past rows of shelves filled with infernal artifacts, the office lady came to a halt before an unassuming wooden door. There was nothing remarkable about it—no glowing runes, no ominous etchings, just plain, weathered wood. Hubertus frowned slightly. For all the drama of descending into the depths, this seemed anticlimactic.
She opened the door, and he followed her inside.
The room stretched endlessly, its walls lined with shelves that seemed to hum with latent power. The air buzzed faintly, and Hubertus could feel it resonate deep within him. Row upon row of items lay before him—each one radiating an aura of power, mystery, or danger.
“You may choose one,” the office lady said, her voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber. “Your trinket awaits.”
Hubertus stepped forward, his eyes scanning the items. Strange amulets, glowing stones, and weapons of various shapes and sizes seemed to call out to him, each tempting in its own way. Before he could decide, a sudden tug deep within him stopped him in his tracks.
The Overlord’s presence stirred, a faint but unmistakable pull guiding him to the farthest row of shelves. Hubertus moved instinctively, as though he had no choice in the matter. The closer he got, the more intense the sensation became, until he finally came to a halt before a single, nondescript object.
A toothbrush.
Hubertus stared at it, dumbfounded. The buzzing inside him had stopped. This was the trinket the Overlord had chosen for him?
A toothbrush?! His thoughts screamed in disbelief. This was the “mighty” trinket? What was he supposed to do with it? Brush his teeth? Was it some kind of cosmic joke? He half-expected the next item he found to be a bar of soap.
Still, the Overlord’s influence was undeniable. Whatever this toothbrush’s purpose was, it had to be significant—didn’t it?
Hubertus sighed, taking the toothbrush and turning back to the office lady. Her face betrayed no emotion as she nodded approvingly. “Now that we have this out of the way,” she said as they exited the room, “it’s time to discuss your involvement with the Order of Flames.”
They returned to her office, where she gestured for Hubertus to sit.
“We’ve ransacked the church,” she began, her voice sharp and clinical, “and uncovered evidence that the Order of Flames is collaborating with the Church of Solomon. Their goal seems to be weakening the Abyss, though their true motives remain unclear.”
Hubertus raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “And what does this have to do with me?”
“The investigation is yours,” she said simply. “Feral offered you this job, and it’s time to prove your worth. As a member of the Order of Flames, thanks to your… unique transformation,” her gaze flickered briefly to his chest, “you are in a position to gather intelligence from within.”
Hubertus nodded slowly. The weight of the Overlord’s presence lingered faintly within him, a reminder of the pact he had made and the expectations placed upon him. Whatever the Order of Flames and the Church of Solomon were planning, he would uncover it—and he would prove his value to the Abyss.