After Grot's departure, the skeletal remains also eagerly exited the residence.

The drawbacks of a loose organizational structure became evident at this juncture. Without strict regulations, the powerful members disregarded the opinions of the others.

Moreover, being creatures of the dark realm, they had always acted ruthlessly.

The room fell into an immediate silence, the atmosphere from the recent confrontation hanging heavy in the air.

Viscount Bernard shook his head, acknowledging that these were the principles of the Dark Covenant: aside from their respected leader, members could only earn respect through sheer strength.

"I fear the enthusiasm for further bartering has waned," Viscount Bernard announced, his voice echoing hollowly through the chamber. He paused, taking in the faces around him, some stoic, others uneasy. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he lifted his head, revealing a chilling determination in his eyes.

"In five days, on the 14th of May," he declared, his words carrying the weight of a death knell, "the gateway to the abyss shall cleave open."

A jolt passed through Morgen, disguised as Amy's assistant. His widened eyes darted across the room, searching for confirmation in the stunned expressions of the others. Open the abyss portal? His mind reeled with the horrifying implication – an invasion of Green City orchestrated by the very people gathered before him.

Bernard, oblivious to the turmoil he'd ignited, continued, his voice laced with a seductive fervor. "The whispers of the abyss hold an irresistible allure for the unique individuals of Green City, for the powerful thirsting for more. Once the portal unfolds, our forsaken streets will become the very heart of the Dark Covenant's dominion!"

He drew a sharp breath, his gaze sweeping across the room like a predator assessing its prey. "Within the abyss, I have summoned demons of immeasurable power. Though they may not vanquish those of extraordinary might..." A malevolent smile twisted his lips. "They will grant us the time we need. The time to strike, the time to claim our rightful place!"

His sunken eyes, fueled by an ambition bordering on madness, seemed to burn with an unholy light. "The gods above will crumble, and the abyss will rise, consuming all within its grasp! Darkness shall reign supreme!"

Excitement crackled in the air, electric and unsettling, like the first rumble of a distant storm. After months of meticulous planning and whispers in shadowed corners, they were finally on the precipice of reaping their bloody harvest. The prospect of seizing a city, a vibrant hub buzzing with extraordinary beings, intoxicated them with a potent mix of exhilaration and audacious greed.

Morgen, hidden amongst the throng, studied Viscount Bernard. The man's animated demeanor, his eyes gleaming with a feverish light, sent a shiver down Morgen's spine. Was it truly necessary, he thought, for a mere Crimson Mage Tower – a Level beta plus entity, powerful, yes, but not untouchable – to warrant such an elaborate, costly plan?

First, they'd bartered their souls to an evil god, acquiring an artifact-dampening weapon of dubious origin. Now, they were planning to rip open the very fabric of reality, tearing a portal to the abyss, a gaping wound that would bleed demonic chaos into their world for months. All to distract the defenders of Green City? Was the Crimson Mage Tower so irresistible, so coveted, that it warranted unleashing such a cataclysm?

Doubt gnawed at Morgen's mind, suspicion coiling around his heart like a serpent. He needed to know more, to unravel the true threads of this twisted tapestry. But information, like sunlight in the abyss, was scarce, shrouded in whispers and half-truths. The pressure mounted, a suffocating weight pressing against him. He had to act, and fast, before the storm they were conjuring swallowed them all whole.

Five days. A stark countdown carved in the stone of reality, each tick echoing in Morgen's mind like a death knell. He had to act. No escape this time. Not for him, not for Green City.

A spark of steel ignited in his eyes, replacing the simmering doubt. His original plan, cobbled together on scraps of information, wouldn't suffice. He needed a new strategy, a gamble that hinged on a razor's edge. Their advantage, their only hope, lay in the shadows themselves.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

The Dark Covenant, cloaked in their own secrets, had unwittingly revealed their hand. The Crimson Mage Tower, seemingly vulnerable, remained hidden, a silent observer. This knowledge was their weapon, a double-edged blade they had to wield with cunning and precision.

Morgen felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders like a shroud. Yet he would not back down. The outcome might hinge on him, on his ability to exploit the shadows, turn their weapons against them. Five days. Five chances to defy the darkness.

Acknowledging this, Morgen couldn't help but glance gratefully at Amy. He owed his fortunate circumstances to the blasphemer who had been graced by the goddess of luck.

At times, he couldn't shake the notion that the blasphemer truly possessed divine favor, so consistently was his path blessed by good fortune.

But the title bestowed upon this blasphemer was truly...

As Viscount Bernard, his eyes ablaze, left the gathering, the assembled members of the Dark Covenant dispersed.

The meeting concluded inconclusively due to the skeleton's erratic behavior.

Despite participating in the assembly, Morgen managed to detect subtle vulnerabilities amidst the Dark Covenant's formidable strength.

His venture into enemy territory had yielded considerable rewards.

"Mr. Amy, kindly wait a moment."

Just as Morgen prepared to follow Amy out of the residence, Viscount Bernard, seemingly noticing his presence, abruptly halted their departure.

Morgen froze in his steps, a flicker of coldness in his eyes as his body tensed, ready for confrontation.

Fortunately, Viscount Bernard's next words proved otherwise.

"I wish to have a conversation with you."

The two enigmatic figures cloaked in darkness cast inquisitive glances at Morgen and Amy before turning away.

The opulent room was momentarily occupied by only three individuals.

Morgen remained silent as he followed Amy, his demeanor composed while his magic subtly flowed into his spell models.

Viscount Bernard approached with a genial smile.

Scrutinizing Morgen, he inquired, "I have not yet had the pleasure of learning your name."

Morgen's heart skipped a beat.

"My apologies, I am Eno of the vampire clan. It is an honor to make your acquaintance, esteemed Viscount Bernard," he replied with a courteous smile.

Viscount Bernard nodded slightly, his expression one of amiable curiosity.

"Eno, I believe I have encountered your name before. You are a promising young man."

Shifting his attention to Amy, he asked, "Mr. Amy, why has the Knight's Temple suddenly begun pursuing you? Was your identity revealed by the Dark Covenant?

Amy narrowed his eyes and nodded.

"Viscount Bernard, I inadvertently displayed my shadow priest abilities, which were discovered by a bishop. Subsequently, the White Knights investigated and unmasked my true nature. Hence..."

He left the rest of his explanation to Viscount Bernard's imagination.

Viscount Bernard acknowledged his words with a nod and expressed his regret. "That is unfortunate indeed. Perhaps you should have sought our support..."

"Thank you for your concern. All is well. I have achieved my goal of eternal life, for which I am indebted to the pursuit."

"Mr. Amy's resilience is commendable," Viscount Bernard declared.

"I believe we should not dwell on the past. Instead, I find myself intrigued by the twelve magic scrolls. Perhaps under your illustrious guidance, Viscount Bernard, we shall have the privilege of witnessing the radiance of an artifact."

"Mr. Amy, I assure you, you will not be disappointed. The artifact shall undoubtedly grace your presence. I pledge that upon my honor."

Morgen observed their conversation with detached indifference.

Both men were seasoned masters, exchanging pleasantries, testing boundaries, clarifying intentions, and offering enticements—an intricate dance of diplomacy.

To the uninitiated, their words appeared innocuous enough.

After several rounds of veiled probing, the two exchanged a few more remarks. Finally, Viscount Bernard turned to Morgen and uttered a cryptic statement.

"Mr. Eno, the power within your bloodline is truly formidable."

"I owe my abilities to Mr. Amy's tutelage," Morgen replied, his chest puffed out, his expression unchanged.

Viscount Bernard, who had been studying Morgen intently, couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. He concluded with a smile, "The Dark Covenant would welcome a talent such as Mr. Eno to our ranks. Your membership would be an honor."

"I am humbled by your invitation," Morgen replied with a bow.

With that exchange, the two took their leave.

After Morgen's departure, Viscount Bernard's shadow stirred as if it possessed life.

Moments later, a chilling voice emanated from the depths of the shadow.

"What a potent bloodline. Viscount Bernard, is this mere vampire lineage capable of producing such extraordinary power?"

The voice resonated hollowly, as if from a desolate cavern, sending shivers down one's spine.

Viscount Bernard turned to face the writhing shadow on the ornate carpet beneath the warm glow of the magical lantern, his expression impassive.

"No, it matters not. A vampire is of no consequence to us.

What we seek are the twelve magic scrolls.

"Yet the scrolls remain in that person's possession..." The shadow contorted violently, its grotesque forms shifting across the floor.

"Enough. The twelve magic scrolls must not be lost. They are a sacred offering from the abyss for our venerated lord. By any means necessary, we shall acquire them, regardless of who stands in our way."

Upon hearing the mention of "venerated lord," the shadow trembled uncontrollably.

"As you command, my master, all for the lord..."