Hubertus was panting, his form flickering faintly as he caught his breath in the shadows of a narrow alley. The dagger pulsed faintly in his grasp, the crimson runes etched into its surface glowing softly. Finally, he had secured the artifact. All he had to do now was deliver it. Simple enough, or so it seemed.
His mind raced as he considered the next steps. Catching a cab and heading to the piano man's residence would be easy. He adjusted his grip on the dagger, feeling its dark energy thrumming against his palm like a heartbeat. Best to keep moving, he thought. The last thing he needed was to linger too long in one place.
Before he could take a step toward the nearest gas station to call for a cab, a sudden pressure filled his mind. It wasn’t painful, but it was impossible to ignore—a weight, a presence, like a storm brewing within his very thoughts.
The Overlord.
Hubertus froze, his breath catching as an image began to form in his mind. It wasn’t like a voice or a command; it was a vision, vivid and unshakable. The dagger floated before him, its crimson runes blazing brighter than before. And next to it… a toothbrush.
The toothbrush? Hubertus blinked, his grip tightening on the dagger as the vision lingered. What was the meaning of this? The Overlord’s will was vast, incomprehensible, but this? This made no sense.
The image burned into his mind, the toothbrush shimmering with an otherworldly glow. The Overlord’s presence receded as quickly as it had arrived, leaving only the faint echo of its power and the unsettling implications of the vision.
Hubertus stared at the dagger in his hand, his other reaching instinctively for the toothbrush tucked away in his coat. It was just a trinket—or so he’d thought. Could it be? The Overlord rarely acted without purpose. If this was a message, it had to mean something.
He hesitated, the weight of both items suddenly feeling far greater than before. What was he supposed to do with them? Deliver the dagger as planned? Or was there another purpose—one he hadn’t yet understood?
For the first time since the heist, doubt crept into Hubertus’s mind. What if the Overlord’s vision wasn’t a command to deliver the dagger… but to use it?
Hubertus pulled the toothbrush from his coat, holding it up alongside the dagger. He hesitated for a moment, then began brushing the dagger’s surface with slow, deliberate strokes. At first, nothing happened. The dagger remained cold, its dark energy thrumming faintly beneath the runes.
But then, something shifted.
The dark energy began to recede, swirling like smoke as it was drawn toward the toothbrush. The bristles vibrated faintly, emitting a strange hum that grew steadily louder. Hubertus froze as the toothbrush began to change, reshaping itself before his eyes. Its form elongated, its texture darkened, and in a matter of moments, it had transformed into an exact replica of the dagger—complete with the pulsating dark energy.
The original dagger, now stripped of its power, seemed ordinary. Its runes no longer glowed, its surface dulled to a mundane blackened steel. The second dagger, however, pulsed in his hand, radiating an energy that seemed almost alive.
Hubertus smirked, tucking both daggers into his coat. Two daggers, two options. The original dagger for the contract, the replica for himself. This might prove useful.
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He made his way to the nearest gas station, called a cab, and directed it to the location the piano man had given him. As the cab arrived, Hubertus slipped into the back seat, still in his human form. The driver gave him a glance but said nothing as Hubertus settled in, giving the mortal no reason to suspect anything unusual.
The ride was uneventful, and when they arrived, Hubertus reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled bill. He handed it over to the driver with a brief nod. “Keep the change,” he said curtly, stepping out of the cab.
The driver pocketed the cash, giving a quick glance at the quiet, moonlit clearing. He seemed uneasy but said nothing, driving off into the night. Hubertus watched the red taillights fade into the distance before turning his attention to the waiting piano man.
The mortal’s nervous energy was palpable. His left eye gleamed unnaturally, his hands fidgeting as Hubertus approached. He looked up, startled by the sound of footsteps, but his expression shifted to one of relief when he recognized his summoner.
“You… you have it?” the man asked, his voice jittery, his eyes darting back and forth as if expecting someone—or something—else.
Hubertus studied him for a moment, his crimson eyes narrowing. The man’s anxiety felt out of place. Why was he so nervous? Hubertus’s mind flicked back to the other demon at the museum. Did this mortal know more than he’d let on?
“I have it,” Hubertus said smoothly, withdrawing the original dagger from his coat. He held it out, letting the moonlight catch on its now-ordinary surface. “But it wasn’t as easy as you made it seem. There was another demon.”
The piano man jerked back, his body stiffening. “A-another demon?” he stammered, his voice cracking. He tried to feign surprise, but Hubertus wasn’t fooled. His eyes flickered with recognition, betraying him.
Hubertus’s lips curled into a slow smirk. “You didn’t tell me I’d have company,” he said, his tone laced with quiet accusation.
“I… I didn’t know!” the man sputtered, his words spilling out in a rush. His hands trembled as he reached for the dagger, his fingers brushing against its dull surface. “The contract was clear. Just… just get the dagger!”
Hubertus released the blade, letting it fall into the man’s trembling hands. The act was deliberate, calculated. The contract had been fulfilled; there was no point in jeopardizing his standing by withholding the artifact.
“Contract complete,” Hubertus said, his voice calm but edged with menace. “But know this: if you’ve been keeping secrets, mortal, you’d best tread carefully. I don’t take kindly to deception.”
The piano man clutched the original dagger, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulled it closer to his chest. Hubertus watched him carefully, his sharp eyes noting every nervous tick and twitch. Then, with a faint crackle, the contract scroll materialized between them, floating in the air, its edges glowing faintly with embers.
Hubertus’s eyes narrowed as he observed the parchment. The runes inscribed on it began to shimmer and shift, the words rearranging themselves as the agreement completed. A pulse of energy surged through the air as the scroll curled inward, its edges blackening before bursting into flames. The ashes swirled and dissolved into nothingness.
Then it happened.
A strange warmth spread through Hubertus, starting in his chest and radiating outward. His hands tingled, and for a moment, his fingers twitched involuntarily. His mind filled with a sharp clarity, as though a door had been opened to a room he’d never noticed before. He could hear the distant echo of keys being struck—a melody both foreign and familiar. Knowledge that wasn’t his own, skills he hadn’t earned, now embedded themselves into his very being.
The piano man stepped back, exhaling heavily as the glowing remnants of the scroll faded. “It’s done,” he said, his voice hoarse, his glassy eye glinting faintly in the moonlight. “The ability is yours.”
Hubertus flexed his fingers experimentally, the phantom sensation of piano keys beneath them lingering in his mind. He could feel it—the knowledge, the precision, the mastery of an instrument he’d never touched.
His lips curled into a slow smirk. “Efficient,” he remarked, his voice cool. “You mortals do know how to seal a deal.”
The man nodded quickly, still clutching the dagger as if it might shield him from Hubertus’s scrutiny. “You’ve upheld your part, and so have I,” he said nervously. “We’re… done here.”
Hubertus tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light. “For now,” he said, his tone casual but laced with subtle menace. Turning on his heel, he walked away, leaving the mortal to stew in his anxiety. The weight of the new ability settled within him, a reminder that while the contract was fulfilled, the story was far from over.