Lorian quickly got up from his bed.
Cold sweat covered his face.
Was it Ghost?
No.
He realized it was the same voice from the Primordial Black, the one that had offered him the demonic pact.
But this time, it was not in his head.
The words seemed to originate from the very air around him.
The air in the room was now carrying a strange, intoxicating scent—like fresh ink on a new banknoteor the crisp tang of unmined gold.
Lorian could feel it in his soul—it was a smell of wealth, of power, of things yet to be acquired.
"Yo man, did not imagine you to be one to be scared so easily," the familiar voice said, this time in a strange familiar tone that was not theirs previously.
It came from the other side of the bed.
Lorian turned his head; his eyes had widened.
There, leaning back against the wooden bedpost with a casual, almost lazy grace, was a figure.
It was the figure of a man, and yet it seemed not to be.
He was clad in what appeared to be a hoodie and a tailored jacket.
The fabric was a deep, midnight blue that seemed to drink all light.
Strange yet simple pattern of intricate, glowing circuits of golden energy was drawn on it, which seemed to be pulsing just beneath the surface.
A large, flamboyant chain was draped around his neck, not of gold or silver, but of a shimmering, liquid metal that flowed and reformed continuously, as if it was alive.
The rhythmic clicking sound that had first drawn Lorian's attention now made sense.
An unnervingly confident and sharp grin was on his handsome face.
His eyes were darker than the darkest black hole, and his pupil was a golden infinity symbol.
This was Azal'gul.
The voice, the power, the deal—it all had a form now.
However, his demonic form somehow did not create a sense of terror in Lorian, but rather of an infinitely sophisticated and yet primordial game of passion.
"Yo, you got good flow, Prince. That was a masterclass," Azal'gul said in a rhythmic baritone voice, which was cool and collected. "They threw a diss track at you, and you just dropped a whole album on 'em."
Lorian stared, his mouth dry. "You... you're here."
"Right where I need to be, fam," Azal'gul said.
He sat down, crossing one leg over the other.
"You thought the connection was just a whisper in your brain?
Nah, that's amateur hour.
We're partners in this. A two-man crew. And every player needs a good hype man."
He gestured with a long, slender hand, and the golden rings on his fingers were clicking together softly.
"Yo, Lorian, peep this. Check your own flow, fam.
You were running so hot, thinking you were the GOAT, yeah?
But you couldn't even lock down your own biz in your past life, nah.
And now you think you're going to master this game? The one with centuries of moves and schemes, where the players are born with the hustle in their veins?
You thought that future intel was a cheat code, didn't you?
But the real world drop-kicked you.
Hit different, didn't it?
Made you want to go ghost and hit that bed all day, yeah?"
Lorian sighed, "So you are here to tease and taunt me. Yes, I forgot, you are a demon after all!"
Azal'Gul smirked, "See, man.
This isn't a solo track, fam; this is a joint venture.
Our fates are tied, for good or bad, for life or cash.
And I'm not about to be a sleeping partner who's just chilling after the initial investment.
Nah, I'm here to ride or die, so don't be sleeping on me.
You were running too hot, thinking you're the GOAT, but you aren't even on the charts yet.
The pirate play? That was on you, my dude.
You tried to bite off more than you could chew, and you got a bitter taste.
That reality check from your pops? That was the real talk you needed.
You were about to run this whole game into the ground, just like you did in your past life, and we aren't about to have that on my watch."
"Yes, yes, got it!" Lorian sulked.
"Don't act so sad, boy." Azal'Gul jumped and placed himself in front of Lorian, who was still digesting the prior event of getting humbled by his lord father.
"Look at the play you just ran.
All of your enemies have made attempts to set you up and put you in a no-win spot, right?
They are thinking they were giving you a leash.
But unintentionally, due to your foolish act, you are now going to take it, Lorian.
You are going to take that leash, and you are going to just spin it into a golden chain."
"They've set me up to fail," Lorian said, his voice quiet with a hint of fatigue. "I'm meant to fail and die."
Azal'gul let out a low chuckle, a sound like a small chest of coins being poured onto a velvet cloth.
"Fail? Nah, that's not in the contract, my dude.
They just gave you a mandate.
A purpose.
You got the authority to build your own game.
A small budget, a few ships… They call that a test; I call it seed money.
Now you can make a legitimate public spend, generate those coins, and start rolling the Mystic.
This is where the real hustle begins."
He leaned forward, his infinity-symbol eyes boring into Lorian's.
"So, what's the first move, Lorian?
We got a city to save, a legacy to build, and some serious profit to stack."
Lorian took a deep breath. "First move, you say? Of course, going to sleep! A tired, exhausted mind can hardly conjure a good plan!"
Azal'Gul shrugged his shoulder, "Well, you are not wrong! So let's catch you tomorrow?"
"Wait!" Lorian stopped the Demon before it would vanish. "Why are you dressed such and talking this way? Like, I remember our meeting in Primordial Black, and you were more collected, suave, and composed…but now…"
Suddenly Azal'Gul's face became collected and composed, unlike the jovial trickster persona he had moments ago.
He spoke in the old manner, "When you entered my domain, I had glimpsed your memories, and in it, what specifically picked my interest was the entertainment in your past life, especially the thing called Rap Song.
I loved those and the persona.
So I decided to adopt it while with you.
Mostly for fun, and also—
To constantly remind you of your past world, lest you forget about being fully absorbed in this world.
For you know that dual memory is going to be your real trump card!"