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A captivating figure, with his sun-kissed blonde hair cascading in waves and his eyes like emeralds reflecting the world around him, stood elegantly at the window, a blend of human and elven grace apparent in his bearing. His tall frame emphasized his noble stature, and he possessed an air of intrigue as he observed the approaching figure through the windowpane.

The man outside, draped in robes that exuded an air of sophistication, carried himself with impeccable poise as he surveyed the architectural details of the building's façade. His familiarity with the premises was unmistakable; he navigated the surroundings with the assuredness of someone who had been there before. Yet, it was palpable that this place was far from ordinary, reserved for those who walked the corridors of power rather than the average populace.

Within these opulent walls resided the first prince of the Southern Empire, and his residence was nothing short of an opulent masterpiece, standing as a testament to the boundless wealth and influence wielded by its inhabitants. This lavish manor, situated distantly from even the exclusive abodes of high society, epitomized grandeur. The flags of the Southern Empire fluttered majestically, bearing the sigil of the south – a verdant tree etched against a rich brown backdrop, an emblem that radiated pride and heritage.

Unperturbed by the prince's scrutiny, the visiting man met his gaze with an unspoken acknowledgment. It was clear that he was well aware of being observed, his confidence and awareness intermingling in the air between them.

Breaking away from the window, the prince retreated to his intricately carved wooden desk. Seated regally, he began preparations for the imminent meeting with the guest.

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The room's atmosphere shifted as Arbious, a figure both enigmatic and unsettling, crossed the threshold. Clad in robes that bore a stark combination of black and red, every aspect of his presence seemed designed to send a shiver down the prince's spine. The guards, stationed as sentinels outside the prince's sanctum, yielded to his approach by swinging open the door, unwittingly granting passage to an aura of discomfort. Arbious, unhesitating, strode across the chamber on a crimson carpet, his boots sweeping across its luxurious fibers with an almost mocking gesture of superiority over the prince himself.

Witnessing this blatant display of disregard, Prince Franz clenched his teeth in silent frustration, his impulse to retort held in check by the gravity of the situation.

"Apologies for the delay, Prince Franz. A minor issue arose, delaying the delivery of the gold coins," Arbious announced, his voice carrying an air of detached nonchalance as he settled into his designated seat, a silent assertion of his status.

"Please, Franz will suffice. No need to subject yourself to those common appellations," Franz replied, a veneer of familiarity between them coloring his words. "After all, are we not friends?"

Arbious's response was measured, the subtlety of his tone resonating with a certain ambiguity that only heightened the tension in the room. "Indeed, we are..."

"Seven hundred thousand gold coins were our agreed terms, were they not?" Franz questioned, an attempt to move past the discord Arbious had sown with his entrance.

"Adjust it to five hundred thousand," came the unexpected retort, like a sudden gust of wind that extinguished the flame of expectations.

"What? Utterly preposterous, that is the Devil's Bargain!" Franz retorted, his chair scraping against the floor as he rose to his feet, his features flushed with an unmistakable blend of anger and incredulity.

Arbious's gaze remained unflinching, his next words laced with a calculated venom. "Compose yourself, Prince. It would not bode well for you if our dealings were to be laid bare, would it?"

The weight of Arbious's insinuation hung in the air, each word poisoning Franz's thoughts and threatening to unravel the web of secrets he had meticulously woven.

The demise of the estate intended for Arbious wasn't a mere natural occurrence; it had been ruthlessly orchestrated as an assassination. The architect of this covert scheme was none other than the prince himself. Motivated by his mounting debts from illicit gambling in forbidden casinos, he hatched a plan to relinquish the estate's ownership and transfer its deeds to a wealthy noble buyer.

"Very well, five hundred thousand gold coins," Prince Franz conceded, his breath slightly labored as he awaited Arbious's response. The tension in the air was palpable, and he could almost feel the weight of the next move that Arbious held in his hands. The prince, despite his regal status, was acutely aware of his disadvantage in these negotiations compared to the cunning and control that Arbious wielded.

Franz's heart raced, his anxiety, almost tangible. He was keenly aware of Arbious's shrewdness, akin to a cunning demon, while he himself was merely a prince burdened by his entitlement. This weight of this knowledge made the prince almost hesitant to counteroffer, knowing Arbious, he would never win against him.

The figure of five hundred thousand gold coins hung in the air, a concession that both parties had ultimately settled upon.

"As the sun sets, my men will deliver the agreed-upon sum to this very manor," Arbious declared, his words laced with an air of assertiveness that brooked no dissent. "However, the rights to the estate must be transferred to my control immediately. I require the royal seal and all associated deeds without delay. Do we understand each other?"

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Franz's eyes bore a mixture of suspicion and resignation as he reached into his desk, retrieving the documents that carried the fate of the estate. "Indeed. The documents bear my father's signature; they are yours to claim."

Before Arbious could lay hands on the documents, Franz interjected, his voice a blend of caution and urgency. "I trust that our transaction shall remain securely veiled from the prying eyes of the public."

Arbious met Franz's gaze with an inscrutable expression, his response measured and deliberate. "You have my word. Not a word of our arrangement shall escape my lips."

"Do not attempt to deceive me," Franz retorted with a swift severity, the exchange a testament to the treacherous waters they navigated.

"It offers me no personal advantage for your departure. I'd rather embrace your suggestion and foster a friendship."

"Friends, is it?"

Franz gazes at the deeds, pondering his course of action. Speaking almost in a murmur, as if sharing his inner thoughts, he addresses his conscience. "This land once belonged to my own uncle... To strip him and his family of such wealth... It feels inherently wrong..."

Arbious can't help but emit a soft chuckle, regarding Franz with an amused expression. "Such concerns seem rather belated at this juncture, wouldn't you agree?"

With his decision clear, Franz releases his grip on the deeds, sliding the papers in Arbious's direction. "You've bested me, demon," he mutters, his vexation evident in response to Arbious's artful yet truthful demeanor.

In a graceful motion, Arbious takes hold of the documents before him, meticulously confirming their authenticity. As he swiftly peruses the papers, ensuring the accuracy of his name and titles for the impending transition.

While observing this, Franz's gaze remains fixed on Arbious, curiosity compelling him to inquire further. "What drives a being of your stature to covet such an extensive estate? What motives underlie this acquisition? Surely, merely obtaining a title can't be the sole aim."

Arbious's crimson eyes lift from the documents, deciphering the prince's countenance like an unsealed tome. "I fail to grasp why this concerns you."

"As a prince, it is within my purview to comprehend the actions of my subjects."

"A prince in title alone, devoid of merit."

The prince had never experienced condescension before, but in the presence of Arbious, he felt an embodiment of power, as if he were in the presence of a God. He could sense the arcane energies emanating from him—an ominous and malevolent aura, though he couldn't quite pinpoint its nature.

"Are the arrangements to your satisfaction, then? Are the documents..."

Abruptly, Arbious rose from his seat, clutching the documents, his gaze looking down upon Franz.

"The documents are entirely acceptable," he responded. "I shall depart, and as agreed, the gold will find its way to you."

Franz rose to meet his gaze, only for Arbious to continue his discourse.

"I hope I don't have to say this but given your history—eliminating your uncle to settle debts—I feel compelled to emphasize. If you or your associates even contemplate an action against me, I will ensure your head decorates a spike, displayed prominently upon a gatehouse."

"Hopefully not on the Dorma Rhode," Franz retorted, attempting to pass off Arbious's warning as jest.

However, Arbious's grave stare didn't falter, leading Franz to slowly comprehend the unwavering sincerity behind the threat.

"Rest assured... I harbor no intentions contrary to your interests," Franz said, his tone attempting to soothe the tension.

"Very well. Let's keep it that way. I find you useful, though only as a means to an end. If you fail in your role, let's hope it never reaches that point."

With documents in hand, Arbious departed, leaving Franz standing in his place as he made his way to the door. The guards, positioned to maintain a watchful presence, quivered in fear as Arbious approached.

This was a result of Arbious's burgeoning powers. At times during the day, his abilities would surge beyond containment, causing hints of a malevolent and chaotic aura to escape his control. This erratic energy often incited panic and fear. His aura had grown too potent to be subdued through conventional means, prompting him to enchant his garments to help manage it. Still, even this wasn't always sufficient.

Finally gone, their brief conversation concluded. The guards lay unconscious, overwhelmed by the fear that Arbious exuded. Even the prince himself felt his legs weaken.

"If it weren't for this," Franz murmured, his thoughts retracing the protective amulets gifted to him by the mage guild in anticipation of this very encounter. He had requested them himself, after delving into knowledge about Arbious and his potent Aura. It marked the first instance in his life where he had discreetly adorned himself with defensive magical artifacts, driven by fear for his own survival, a prudential step taken prior to the pivotal meeting. Yet, as he discreetly adjusted his sleeve to inspect the fate of these talismans, he found himself rendered speechless. All three of the talismans he had received had turned an ominous pitch-black hue.

When a talisman reached this state, it indicated that it had absorbed the maximum amount of negative energy from the surroundings. Franz possessed three separate talismans, layered one after the other, and all were now saturated with darkness.

"What in the world..."

Franz spoke to himself, struggling to comprehend the significance of what he was witnessing. Throughout history, no one had managed to turn a talisman black, but to have all three do so simultaneously? This hinted at an evil beyond imagination.

The talismans yielded to the immense strain upon them, crumbling into dust carried away by the wind before him. Not a trace remained of their existence.

Franz had suspected Arbious might be a demon, yet the extent of his power remained a mystery. Even his father, consumed by uncontrollable anger, could scarcely tinge a single talisman gray, and his father was a highly accomplished druid. But Arbious had maintained his composure and still managed to darken them all.

"If his power is truly of this magnitude, I must avoid any action that would displease him..."

Drawing close to a window, Franz focused his gaze on the ground below, watching as Arbious strode out of the manor—proud, self-assured, and enigmatic.

"Provoking his wrath... it could spell the downfall of our entire nation... He must truly be the Demon God... No human alive can possess such power. The moniker is no mere chance, I'm certain of it," he murmurs under his breath. "Yet I must exercise restraint... Not at this juncture... Not after the deal we've struck... If he truly embodies the Demon God, he likely foresees every move I could make to raise an alarm... My options are shackled... Patience is my sole recourse."